Sweet, Sweet Dreams

I guess you’ve become my late night confidante.

Don’t worry. I won’t get too crazy on you. But it is proven that after the sunset, I relax a little more than usual.

What’s on my mind?

Ummm…I’m glad I went to the doctor. My body feels so much better now. I needed this time to heal.

I’m grateful for my friends. Yo, seriously, if there were a best friends ever contest I’d have a whole team of women to nominate. I love the way they love me.

Tonight I was talking to Kim about her ex and I told her, “Regardless of your stank attitude, your spoiled nature, your gameplaying and nut crunching, I know you loved that man very well. You sat up there and worked with him through his insecurities. You tolerated his mood swings. You hacked away at his heart and got him to trust you. You loved him. You were so patient with him. Girl…To him I bet you’ll always be an angel and he thinks you’re too good for him.”

But then I noticed a pattern. All of Kim’s ex boyfriends have treated her as if she was the keys to a brand new mercedes. People are naturally stunned by her. She shines. But then again, all of her boyfriends have fallen by the wayside for one reason or another, but every last one of them wanted to marry her.

This is the longest she’s been single- ever. Even when we first met as teens she was in a long term, serious relationship. I remember one time I was messing with her about how she knows how to hold on to a man and she said, “Girl, the funny thing is, I don’t even do anything. I don’t try to make it work, it just does. I just have fun.”

How did I get to this part of the story?

I don’t know. Anyway. I feel like I’m in my prime. I’m going to be 28 this summer. 28. Kim turned 28 last week and Tamara is next in April. Old ladies.

I have this persona that I wear when I am out among men. I realize that I fake it too. If any of these men were to actually try to talk to me I would freak out. The idea of physical or emotional intimacy with a man makes me gag. Men still scare me. Damn.. When I just re read that sentence it made me think, “Damn she sounds like a straight up lesbian.”

Let’s clear that up. I’m not. I’m not even bi. I guess right now I’m not hetero either so I’m nothing.

We’ll see how long that lasts.

One on one conversations with them cause my heart to ache but I can handle groups because I just aim and shoot as they attack. How are there gonna be 8 guys in a room, and almost every one of them takes a turn trying to get your number. All in front of each other? I don’t get that. I just ignore those comments.

Today I went to the barber shop. Not the same one I went to the first time, he did a good job, but I wanted to see if someone else could do better. I tried another barber in the same neighborhood.

So you know I walk in all bold and just confident. I walk up to the barber and describe my haircut and ask him if he thinks he can do it.

I’m flipping through magazines and I’m asking everyone questions as if I come in there everyday. They ask me what I do and I reply with a sly smile, “World adventurer!”

They laugh. ~rolls eyes~

I sit and entertain them until my haircut is done then I leave, thankfully with no one hanging on my car, following me out to get my number. I was blocking the whole night. Shooting them down. I don’t want to talk to none of ya’ll. I’m not into that right now. Yeah brotha…you fine.

But I’m not interested in that right now. I know I came in here all captivating, but it was just to add a little spice to your day. And it’s fun for me too. Brings some life into mundane situations. It’s just another interesting experience with a crazy girl. Why not just enjoy the memory of the experience? Everything shouldn’t be…duplicated. Let’s be daring and see if we run into each other again. Don’t push. I’ll ask for your number if I want it.

But no thanks. I’m still healing. It would be great to have someone to rub my booty a lil bit but I think it would be better to have someone who cares about me instead of some random one night stand.

I have to make some changes. I can’t keep dancing in this same circle. I regressed and acted like I was 18 with a pussy pass, handing it out to everyone. Get a little freedom and go buck wild. Now it’s time to get some control over myself. The type of success I envision will only come through discipline. I need more of it.

I’m going to challenge myself daily just to keep my creative juices flowing. I want to develop good habits. I think that I will go a step further and pledge to try to somehow, replace all of my bad habits with good ones.

Starting with…smoking. Naw…Yeah… Naw…Not yet….Yeah. Damn. Naw… Not yet…. We’ll think of another one.

Anyway…my 4 year old son had his Black History Month program tonite. I wish I could have been there.

Maybe I’ll start with: replace negative thoughts immediately with positive ones. Damn…that’s going to be a challenge. Let’s see if I can handle a whole day without freaking out or cussing at someone or assuming someone is out to hurt me.

Oh Lord…that’s a bigger task than I even thought.

Excuse me…um… Oh Lord. I can handle that! I’m ready to grow!

And God… Could you give my sons a hug for me tonight? Make their sleep extra sweet and their dreams of me giving them all the love they need. Take care of them.

Hey God.

The decision I’m about to make will impact my life in a major way. Please, give me peace one way or the other. I really want to do this your way. I’m trying to get back in the game.

Take A Look At Me Now

R&B usually doesn’t appeal to me. I mean…it’s a bunch of sad love songs. I have had no love or love lost in so many years that I didn’t identify with any of the music and it actually annoyed me more than anything.

Until today.

Today I was driving down Richmond with a heavy heart. So much is going on and I feel like JB is missing. I miss sharing my highs and lows with him. I kinda see why he thinks we should give each other space. Things were getting way too heavy on both our parts and the distance was killing it. And he drives me crazy. And I drive him crazy too.

I guess…I just miss his friendship. From the moment I met him I wanted to be his friend and we finally got a chance to get to know each other. He was way more *shivers* than I thought he’d be. He was way more cool. Quirky. Cute. Wise. Romantic even. And did I mention that he is so fuckin FINE? Damn…

I pray everyday that I can stop thinking about him.

So today as I was driving and my heart was hurting I turned on the radio because I was tired of meditating on that shit. What I heard brought me to tears and broke my heart all over again.

They played —

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Alicia Keyes – Fallin

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Phil Collins – Against All Odds

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Sade- No Ordinary Love

They played all of them bitches in a row!




I thought that I was going to dieeeeeeeee!

Whoever has the magic pill to get over this, please send it ASAP.

Developing The Skillset For Success

I spoke to Senator Ob.ama yesterday.

But let me back up a minute…

This past week was a stressful one for me because I knew that I had to make a move. I honestly haven’t really gotten any breaks for the entire month and a half that I’ve been in Houston and I was begining to feel like I made another mistake. I came here for a specific purpose, never thinking that things could blow up in my face, hoping for a chance to lay a good foundation so that I will be able to take care of my boys.

This is a lonely road to take but what else can I do?

I’ve been getting all kinds of criticisms. I try to shake them off but words mean so much to me. I dwell on the things people say and try to correct them if necessary. But I know that sometimes people say things that are meant to break your spirit. I recognize those evil intentions and I am now able to throw their words into the wind.

I got a job offer to work in housing for one of the colleges here. It would mean a great salary and benefits and IMMEDIATE HOUSING for free. I was never excited about it because though it sounded great, I didn’t have peace about it. But I didn’t let anyone know about that.

After completing all the testing, interviews and application process I was sure that I would be moving into my new place by this weekend. I went ahead and told Kia that I was leaving and packed up my car, eager to be able to live and breathe in my own spot.

To my utter surprise I received a phone call on Thursday morning informing me that all of my testing did not clear me for the position and it would be offered to someone else. I sat, stunned in my room. My heart ached under the pressure. JB is gone. My kids are crying to me that they want to be with me. My Babby Daddy is acting immature again. I couldn’t take the physical pressure of working at the Restaurant and I had to leave. My heart is breaking everyday. I have no one to love on me.

This is a lonely road.

I didn’t eat anything for the entire day. I’d think about eating and I’d stand up to go get something but then…I knew I couldn’t. It wasnt worth the effort.

I sat on my bed wondering if the pain in my chest was caused by physical complications moreso than the devastating feeling of being unsuccessful no matter how much effort I put out. Could I be dieing?

My phone rang and I cringed. Uhh… A 713 number. No one I know here calls with anything good to say.

“Hi, Ms. Tee?” a woman’s voice says timidly.

“Yes, this is Ms. Tee.”

“Hi, this is, Juanita, the publisher of the newspaper.”

“Hello, how are you?”

“Would you be free tomorrow morning at 10 am to come in and do a staff interview?”


“Great. I’m sending everyone a link to your online portfolio and oh yeah…after the interview I want you to participate in a live teleconference with Senator Bar.ack Oba.ma. He’s invited the Black press to a teleconference. Have a few questions prepared just in case you get a chance to jump in.”

“Sure. Great.”

Uh oh.. I don’t really know anything about this dude. He’s supposed to be running for President. I read about his life but I wasn’t feeling confident about my ability to understand politics and convey a strong message so I did what I usually do when I’m not knowledgable about a topic; I called my smartest friends.

First up was Yolanda, you may know her from her blog. She is a political firestorm and I always learn something when I speak to her or read her blog.

She gave me some direction on how to prepare myself for the interview.

Then I called my ex boyfriend Bernard because he’s the force behind my K.I.S.S. guide to understanding world issues. He laughed as we practiced pronouncing the Senator’s name because I couldn’t get that right to save my life. We came up with a few questions to ask and I worded them the best way I could and emailed them to my phone.

The next morning I went in, prepared but still emotionally distraught.

The entire staff came into the conference room and I sat in the hot seat while they questioned me about my work ethic, my attitudes concerning work relationships and my past experience. IT was a very comfortable interrogation and I felt peace after it was done.

The staff left me to myself as they deliberated and Juanita came back out and ushered me into a back office to participate in the conference.

I was a little nervous as I listened to the Senator answer all of the questions posed. I began to notice that there was a rythm to the process. At any press junket you have to be aggressive and my first two tries to jump in and be heard over the other reporters who were trying to get their questions in weren’t aggressive enough.

Suddenly, there was a noise on the line and everyone got quiet. The moderator asked that everyone mute their phones so they could figure out who was causing the problem. During this moment of silence I heard a man ask, “Is the Senator still listening?”

The Senator replied, “Yes, I’m still here.”

Still silence.

I jumped in quickly. “Hello this is Ms. Tee in Houston, Texas. Senator, how are you? We want to know if you plan to target the Black vote and if so, have you developed a strategy that won’t polarize your white supporters?”

“Hmmm…” The Senator replied, “That’s a good question…”

He then went on to explain some his goals but he didn’t answer the second half of my question so I interjected. “But Senator, what about polarizing your white supporters?”

“That’s enough for today!” the moderator cut in. “Thank you all for your participation.”

The Senator reminded everyone that when he visits their city, he will be sure to give each one of us a 10-15 minute one on one interview.

After the interview, Juanita took me to lunch at Joe’s Crab Shack. She pulled out the first feature story that I wrote for her and at a glance I could see scribbles all over it. I was shocked.

“Now, I noticed a few things about your writing that needs development. In newspaper writing there’s a rythm that you have overlooked. When you are writing your transitions, quotes are stand alone paragraphs. You use the active voice but you should be using the past tense. Also, the lead needs to be redone because it’s dated since you described the cold weather and it’s warm out right now.”

Damn… I was secretly happy to hear all of this. Understand that I love correction if it is presented in a positive way. I’m all about learning and growing as a writer.

“Also,” Juanita continued. “After you did your feature I contacted the people that you interviewed and asked them about how you presented yourself, your line of questioning and your performance.”

Whoa! I didn’t know I was being watched.

“They offered both positive and negative feedback,” she said. “I don’t know how you will take this but they said that you looked a bit too HIP. One source said that they felt like they were being interviewed by a staff writer for Rolling Stone magazine.”

I remembered the outfit I wore to that day. It was my “I’m so fly outfit” my favorite jeans, a funky t-shirt from my last job and a green jacket with my signature cap.” I thought I was cute.

Now I know that I have to change my wardrobe a bit since I’m making the transition from magazines to news. Too bad I gave away all of my suits, except one, after I spent the night at the shelter.

We continued to talk and she outlined my salary and expectations for the position of reporter. She’s training me to become the editor but I still have so much to learn. The great thing about it is, she’s willing to teach me.

“You have aggression and talent and I’m sure we can turn you into a great news reporter,” she told me.

I sat back and thought about everything she said as I took bites of my shrimp scampi. I’m not a news reporter. I’m a magazine feature writer but aint nothing wrong with developing a new skillset. If I try hard enough, who knows where this could lead. I have heard nothing but great things about this woman. But the woman DOES do her homework. She even contacted the publisher I worked for in Miami. When she told me I was floored as I remembered how I loved that job but couldn’t stay because the pay wasn’t enough for me to support my two sons without help from their father.

“She had nothing but great things to say about you,” Juanita told me. “She said that you were quick, bright and aggressive. When I asked her if she would rehire you she said that she would do so in in a minute.”


I knew I had worked hard for her, like I usually do. But I never thought my work was appreciated.

As we were about to leave, she reminded me to make the corrections ot my first article and to have the Ob.ama story in by Monday morning to run in next week’s paper.”

“Is there an angle I’m pursuing?” I asked her.

“None in particular. Just listen to the tape and choose the most pertinent questions with background information to include in your story.”

Oh shit…

This is a going to be a front page headline and my first introduction as a news writer to the city of Houston. I have to make this one good.


When I left I hurried out to meet up with Girl7 who I met at the restaurant. This chick is an artsy fitness instructor who lives by the motto, “I do what I want to do.”

This strains me because she reminds me so much of me and…Damn I’m self absorbed.

After kicking it with her for a few hours downtown, I made the 35 minute trek back to Kia’s house to ask her if I could stay with her for a little while longer until I got enough money to move.

Then I relaxed and fell into a deep sleep.

A sleep so sound that I had no idea Kia had a house full of people this morning.

Man…I have to go write this story now.

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Wish me luck!


I sorta got a treat yesterday.

I was up early talking on the phone with Tamara and guess who called? Anna! I was so excited. These two women are my two bestfriends from childhood and I love it when we can arrange a conference call because it reminds me of the old days.

To my utter surprise and dismay, the conversation went on for almost an hour and I couldn’t even participate. Anna and Tamara talked about their fiance’s and how their daughters are relating to them. They discussed in detail the highs and lows of allowing someone else to help you raise your child. For the most part they praised the men for taking such an interest in their children and truly stepping in as Daddy.

The the conversation flowed to their impending weddings. Both ladies will be married this year.

“What colors did you choose?”

“How big is your wedding party?”

“How did you come up with that date?”

Just to participate in the conversation I asked them, “Do you feel like your fiance is your soulmate or just some man you chose?”

Anna chimed in first, “At first I looked at him as some man that I might choose. When I looked at it that way, I was looking for negative traits in him so I could cut him loose. The more I looked, the more I realized that he was right for me. Now I know he’s my soulmate.”

“Same with AJ. No matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t get away from him. You remember me trying to see other people? All that drama. He cares about me. I can see it everyday.”

~rolls eyes~


Whatever. It’s just…a year ago we were ALL single together.

You know how you would sit around and wonder who was gonna be the first and the last to get married?


I guess…I’m hoping…

God’s just saving the best for last.

What a day…What a day…


I had such a beautiful day…

I woke up this morning praising God and feeling a peace in my heart that I hadn’t felt in a long time. I kept thanking Him over and over again for another day and another chance to start again.

I got dressed in no time flat. I wanted to be early for my first full day of work. When I got there it was just me and the production manager. She’s a sweet older woman who has been working at the paper since it started. I said goodmorning and sang her name the way I love to do. Then I walked into my office.

My office.

I closed the door.

Closed the door.

I looked around.

Around the whole room.

And I said, “Wow. This is my first time having my own office.”

What a great company! I’m just a staff reporter. I can’t believe it. I make more money than I did at the magazine.

I’m going to work so hard!

I sat down and touched my computer for the first time. The screen lit up and I realized– Wow. It’s a Mac. I’ve never used one before.

I grinned.


I can’t wait to learn how to use it!

I looked at my list of priorities and decided on a project. Before I could really dig in, Juanita, my publisher pops her head in asking to see me about my O.Bam.a story.

Oh no..

I wasn’t confident about that story. I had a rough weekend and I was so nervous about showing her that I can do it that I completely blanked out– all weekend long.

I had so much on my mind.

But fuck it. I can take it.

“First, I want you to tell me where you were going with this piece. What was your strategy?” she asked me.

“Ok. I decided to go with a general lede and then give some background information and current news then post the quotes in a Q&A style with sub heads.”

She looked at my paper. I could see all the marks on it and I winced.

“I can see where you were going but you were inconsistent,” she said as she examined my paragraphs. “Too many fragmented quotes. The attribution shouldn’t cut a quote in half like that when the latter half of the sentence can’t stand alone. I need you to write transitions for all of these long quotes. The sub head can stay but it isn’t enough.”

I sat taking notes furiously.

“Now as far as your lede.” she stopped and looked at me.

I smiled.

“What was the big news here? What was the meat of the story?”

“Um.. Ob.ama answered questions from the press?”

“What about the information that he presented? Is there something there that we’ve never heard before?”

“The bill?”

“Yes. So if we wanted to we could emphasize that in the lead and then mention that he shared the information with members of the Black Press. Or…. What else do you see when you look at this story? What is he doing?”

“Reaching out to our community.”

“Yes. This past weekend alone he has participated in two seperate events for African Americans.”

“He’s courting our community. He’s trying to show us that he is available and will represent us. He wants our vote,” I said.

“Now that’s an idea for a lede because it is active. We dont report what happened because we’re not a daily. We report what’s next. What’s next for Ob.ama? What’s next in Houston?”

I understood. I spent 5 hours re-writing that piece and she still had to sit through 2 of them with me. She was very patient with me and I appreciate that. I was half expecting her to smirk and sit me in a corner while she whispered about me to the other staff members.

But I don’t think she’s like that.

She teaches. She knows I don’t understand everything but I’m a quick learner so she says she will work with me until I do. Everyone there says she’s more than fair. They love her to death but admit, she’s hard.

After one of our re-writing sessions I said to her, “You’re like a Mama to your company.”

She laughed and said, “I try to be what others weren’t to me. When I was younger I wanted someone to teach me so badly. I just knew I could do great things but everyone I approached got all crazy. They didn’t want to help. But I know what that was. That was insecurity. Anytime you have a person with a little something and they’re not willing to share the information necessary to help pull another sister up then they’re just afraid of losing their spot.”

“I agree,” I told her. “But I believe the pie in the sky is big enough for everyone to get a big piece.”

“Me too,” she said. “But everyone doesn’t believe that.”

I know.

I ended the day by helping with the proofing of the paper. Two of my stories are going on the front page, BELOW the fold, but it’s a good start.

I got off work at 7 and then treated myself to dinner. I can’t keep eating fast food because it’s cheap. Then I took a short nap and woke up hungry again, just as my phone rang. It was Kim. While we chatted I put on my shoes and walked outside after thinking, “I want something to munch on.”

Why was there a barbecue going on?

God is always right on time.

I got me a great burger and hung out a little with the white people before heading up to lay down and write this.

Oh, Mr. President

My emotions were all over the place today. Lord, help me, I’m a Cancer. I can’t help it.

I’m always eager to go to work because my last two jobs have been jobs that I LOVE to do. But when I got in I knew the task at hand was to develop a list of questions for both of the interviews I had scheduled that day. My publisher wanted to take a look at them.

So I thought hard and developed a list. One for a press conference with the President of Ethi.op.ia and the other with the founder of the Black Col.lege Expo.

The Black E.xpo was easy. Background, background, who does it benefit, what are your goals- blah blah

But the interview with the president would prove to be more difficult because I wanted some juice and not some puff piece. So I had to do some digging to find out who he was and how he operated. The whole reason that he was here was because the fossil is being displayed in Houston as the first stop in a nation wide tour.

The significance of the tour is, there are so many critics that say that the fossil should not be removed from it’s home because it could be destroyed or damaged during all of the travel. I read an article that said that all of the museums in the US are salivating over hosting this world treasure. But the Smithson refuses to host it. So you know that it’s serious when they turn it down.

If it’s really that dangerous, then why are we taking it on a tour?

That’s what I wanted to know…

As I formulated my questions I texted Bernard and asked his opinion. Bernard is so damn smart. He’s an Intelligence Officer in the military.

Bernard hit me back quickly with a fire ass question!

When I showed the Publisher my list we went through line by line and adjusted my questions to make them more succint.

My problem is- When I write questions, I write in the same way that I write the story. You are supposed to ask the question in the most simple way. If you are going to ask a complex question (like I do because I love to write complex sentences) put the most important part of the question upfront. Otherwise, the source can ignore the second half if they choose to.

And I have to stop writing questions like I write stories! No adverbs! Just straight up questions, remembering to cover the 5 W’s.

So back to the lecture at hand. The tour is coming to Houston of ALL places? Why? Why Houston? What’s the vested interest?

Maybe it’s the fact that the Hous.ton port is a large importer of coffee and Eth.io.pia is the largest exporter of coffee?


I don’t know.

But you know I had to ask.


So I made it to the press conference an hour early and sat outside and meditated on my life. When the time came for the media to go inside the conference room I walked in with the rest of the reporters and photographers after the secret service dogs sniffed my purse. Ewww…

He walked in surrounded by other Black men in suits and sat in chairs arranged directly in front of the audience.

When I heard, “Does anyone have any questions?” my hand shot up.

“In the midst of criticism from scientists about the dangers of traveling with the fossil, why did you choose to move forward with this tour?”

I questioned the president quite a few times and even stumped him with this question:

“If the majority of Eth.i.opian citizens are Christian and some scientists believe that the discovery of Lu.cy (the fossil) support the theory of evolution, what kind of debate have these significant findings inspired among your citizens?”

He just stared at me.

“What does Christianity have to do with L.ucy? She was never baptised?!” he replied.

Everyone breaks out in nervous laughter.

I sit back in my chair and smile. I’m in the front row, in the first seat near the aisle, directly in the middle, directly across from the president.

I have ONE MORE question to hit him with but…I decide not to.

I wanted to ask him, “How do the people of Et.hi.opia benefit financially from this tour?”

But he’s an older man. I didn’t want him to get too upset.

After my last question everyone stood up to leave and I couldn’t believe it but people came over to meet me and shake my hand. Everyone wanted to tell me, “You did a great job!” “Don’t apologize, you did exactly what you were supposed to do.” “Good job Sista,” one lady with a short cut said to me as she walked by.

Before I knew it, the TV cameras filming the press conference were on me and the cameraman was asking my name.

You know I hammed it up!

“I’m Ms. Tee,” I said cutely, staring intensely into the camera and giving them ALL of my charm.

I walked out smiling after collecting business cards. Then I spotted the Texas Senator. I wanted an interview so I stood on the sidelines trying to catch his eye.

There was a commotion as the president’s entourage began to file out of the room. I’m standing in the hallway so I stand to the side and smile at him as he walks by. “Thank you for visiting.” I say to him.

“You satisfied?” he asks gruffly without stopping to look me in my eye.

“Yes sir!” I say.

I then turn around and the media relations woman introduces me to the Senator. “Senator, thank you for your time,” I begin as my voice recorder starts rolling. “I’m Ms. Tee with the NEWS.”

Fashion Week in Houston

Why didn’t anyone tell me that Fashion Week was coming to Houston?

I’m on the phone with a snobby PR person, trying to secure credentials (which means RSVPing) for myself and our photographer and the photographer is so excited because he has always wanted to shoot a big time fashion show.

When I get to the event, which was held across the street from the Galleria, I have no idea what to expect. I’m not a fashion writer but I know I can at least do a pub piece on the event so I’m armed with a small bookbag, my recorder, a stack of business cards, a reporters notepad, a pen, some lip gloss and my inhaler, just in case.

I’m on the phone with my boys as I arrive. “Well, I have to go Boo Boo. I have an interview to do,” I explain.

“What’s an interview?” my Boo Boo asks.

“Well, you know how I tell you that I write stories for newspapers and magazines?”


“Well, before I can write the story I have to go talk to people and ask them questions. Asking people questions is called an interview. If I don’t interview people I can’t write a good story. That’s why I have to go now.”

“Ok, will you call me when you’re done, Mama?”

“Sure baby.”

I walk up to the registration desk and I am given my Media pass. I walk into the tent and I see four rows of tables set up with mirrors and a bunch of skinny women are sitting there getting their hair and makeup done. I look to my right and I pause. Damn, she looks familiar.

I walk up to the woman, “Are you Naomi Campbell?” I ask her.

She looks up at me, “Yes I am.”

“Wow,” I say. “I’m Ms. Tee with THE NEWS. Would you mind answering a few questions for our paper?”

“Ofcourse not,” she tells me and smiles.

I pull out my recorder and I ask her about the state of modeling and it’s transition since she first began. I ask her about how America’s Next Top Model is affecting the modeling industry and OFCOURSE I ask her, “What have you learned from your first criminal conviction?”

Naomi looked like a regular tall chick with a little bit of a sparkle. But once her hair and makeup were done she was just as glam as she usually is and began to strut her stuff.

SHe smiles and answers politely. She gives me all the time I want and I’m grateful. I’m sure to get a great story out of this interview.

My confidence is high as I wait for my photographer to show up. I spot another Black model and I interview her as well. She tells me that she was such an ugly baby that she can’t believe she’s a model now. I can’t believe I forgot to ask her how old she was! ~sigh~

I explore more of the tent and I find a room filled with people who are messing around with the clothes and there’s a table full of accessories that I go over and check out because I LOVE accessories. I interview the woman in charge and she explains that she is the head of a team of dressers. DRESSERS actually dress the models.

“They are models,” she explains. “They don’t have time to worry about buttons and clasps and whether their clothes fit right. Each model has her own dresser and they make sure that all of the pieces for their wardrobe are perfect.”

I peek down at the DRESSERS and see one of them putting tape inside a pair of heels.

I walk back out to the make up room and spot an interesting looking lady. Actually, when I was interviewing Naomi she was sitting right next to her and when I was done she placed a gentle hand on my arm and gave me a thumbs up and said, “You did a great job. You’re going to do well.”

I interviewed her and found out that she is a former model agent who managed her own agency in New York for 13 years AND she said she is the mother of Kadeem Hardison.

I don’t know…but it seems that the entertainment industry is a small world.

I see this basketball player but I don’t know who he is. I ask my photographer and he tells me that he plays for the Houston Rockets and he’s from Africa. He’s really tall and I wait around to ask him a couple of questions. He gives me some time and I apologize but I still can’t pronounce his name. BUT, he just built a hospital in his home country which will open on July 15th of this year.

After I walk around a bit more and I meet up with my photographer and show him all of the people that I had interviewed so he could get pictures, we both have a glass of wine and head out to the main part of the tent where there are so many people milling around and I tell him, “Keep your eyes open.”

Ofcourse we’re on the lookout for celebrities or anyone who might make a good story.

When you’re a journalist and you’re at a major event, there’s no time to play, your eyes are scanning the crowd like a vulture, just hoping for someone great to fall into your line of vision.

I give the photographer the heads up and I bump into Solange. I ask her a few quick questions and he gets a picture of her. She says she’s working on a line of toys inspired by her son who is now 2 and a half.

We finally make it to the room with the runway in it. All of the seats are filling fast as people pour into the room dressed to the HILT. Everyone wants to look like a star. I’m looking like blah. But I’m feeling like a SUPERSTAR!

I walk over to the runway and smile.

I stand up straight and do my EVA THE DIVA walk down the runway, just switching and smiling at the crowd. My photographer is LAUGHING at me and taking pictures of my baldheaded self as I work the runway dodging the other people who are hanging out on the floor.

We find our place with the other media on the media riser at the end of the runway. All of the photographers and journalists are mingling, exchanging pleasantries and being very friendly to each other. I’m slinging my business cards and laughing it up. Even though it would seem that we journalists are in competition because we work for different publications, there’s an unwritten bond that we have because we share a love for the same thing. When we look into each other’s eyes, it’s like… a secret code or something. That is why I will always have love for the magazine that I worked for and all of the people I met there.

We came from the same place. I can’t wait to see what happens with all of the writers I worked with.

The show starts and my photographer is so excited. “This is a big deal for Houston,” he tells me. “Everyone who’s anyone in Houston is right here. This show usually takes place in New York, London, Paris. NEVER in Houston! These shots are going to be amazing!”

I sit down on the floor and inhale. Damn… This is great!

The show starts and Naomi walks out strutting her stuff! Everyone gives her a standing ovation and the rest of the models walk out with serious expressions, turn and walk back down the runway. I’m looking at their outfits like, “Um…I would never wear that.”

But I guess it’s because I’m not a trendy person. I’m not into the latest fashions. It just…doesn’t matter to me. The one thing I can report is…almost all of the female models are wearing shoes with thick silver heels. The shoes were all different colors but all of the heels were metallic silver.


I’m so tired now and I have two stories that are due tomorrow afternoon. I transcribed the interviews today and I thought I would have time to knock one of them out but…I can’t think. I think I just want to sleep. Sleep.



Missing Miami

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It’s Friday night and the weather is beautiful in Houston. I have a story to finish but my head can’t get it together because I’m homesick. I wish I was back in Miami. I miss my Mama. I miss my sister. I miss my kids. I miss my cousins. Heck, I even miss my ol aggravating Baby Daddy. Naw…No I don’t.

I’m a long way from home but thankfully, I can visit Youtube and watch a few videos which remind me that home is never too far when you have the internet.

Check out these links. Pure comedy, pure mess, PURE MIAMI!

Disco Rick- The Nasty Dance

Yo Mama’s On Crack Rock

Poison Clan

Uncle Al

Miami Dolphins Rap

Welcome to Miami with Will Smith

Born and raised in the County of Dade

Trick Daddy- I’m a Thug

Rick Ross- Everyday I’m Hustlin

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Uncle Luke’s World

Benji Brown- You Da Daddy!


Pitbull- Culo

Miami Herald

Miami Heat

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Chef Creole- THE BEST FOOD!

Little Haiti

Cafe Iguana

WEDR 99 Jamz

Bayside Marketplace

Wet Willies on Ocean Drive

My old Highschool Miami Jackson Senior High

My old neighborhood LIBERTY CITY I’m a CITY GIRL!

Calle Ocho- The Cuban Festival

Goombay Festival

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Dade County Youth Fair

I miss you Miami!