Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Last week I had an interview with a representative from Slip & Slide Records. Slip & Slide Records is based in Florida and is the home to popular artist like Rick Ross, Plies, Trina, and now Jagged Edge. The position I was interviewing for was an administrative assistant position. I was very excited and confident about the interview. I had been an intern for Def Jam/ Disturbing Da Peace while in college so my experience and references were solid for the job. The morning of my interview I woke up at 5am to get in a good workout, since I had to be there at 9am. I arrived 30 minutes early just in case there were any forms to fill out or prescreening I’d have to do prior to my interview. I knocked on the door and was greeted by a man (more like a boy) standing at 5’2, weighting 100 pounds in his coca cola pajamas (WTH). His first words to me were; damn I thought you were my probation officer. My response was: Um no, my name is Lola I am here for the 9am interview. He said, oh yeah, why da fuck you here so early. I thought to myself, gee I don’t know, isn’t that what most people do when they want the job, they get to the interview early (this is not looking good) He invited me in and told me to excuse himself because he had to detox from weed before he met with his probation officer and that he had only had an hour of sleep cause he be out here in dees streets (OMG, he can’t be serious, but he was). Confused about what I had just walk myself into I took a seat and asked him if he needed an extra copy of my resume and he said no because basically this job was all about how he vibes with a bitch (I’m assuming I was the bitch in which he was trying to vibe with…help me Jesus). Against his better judgment he started to look at my resume and said; you worked wit (not with) a nigga that play ball. I kept quiet, and just nodded my head, because if I had opened my mouth I’m sure a huge laugh would have came out along with who gave you a job you stupid stupid boy (lol). He went on to explain how bitches at the club don’t fuck with athletes because dem niggas is corny. I was so shocked by his statement that I asked him if he were serious, and if he could watch his language. Apparently he was serious and lost for words, because he said I wasn’t a good fit for the job because I was on some ole corporate shit and Slip& Slide Records only deal with real mutha fuckas that’s about business and gon hustle in dees streets and make shit happen. He went on to say that he works in “Black Hollywood”, and sometimes that means making sure artist is straight, no bull shit (I promise these were this idiots exact words he said to me)I was so lost throughout the whole interview process. Who knew I would need my sister to translate hood vocabulary (lol) in order to be successful in an interview, for a job I have experience in. Never the less I totally agreed with him that I was not the bitch (as he put it) for the job and left.
I was furious when I left the interview. I had been up since 5am only to be greeted by foolishness. What’s worse is this boy (Aaron Lucas) feels like he was not out of line in any way. I'm sure that he thinks the way he conducted himself with me that morning was how all black people conduct themselves in professional settings, well unless you’re an athlete, and then you’re corny (lol).
I went to Star Bucks and ordered a cup of coffee. As I sat at Star Bucks, drinking my cup of coffee I couldn’t believe what I experienced, I mean America has a Black president and then we have Aaron Lucas the CEO of ignorance (tragic just tragic). Still upset I went home and wrote a letter to Ted Lucas (not sure if they’re related) CEO and founder of Slip &Slide Records and expressed how his employee’s behavior was rude, disrespectful and unprofessional. I knew my letter wasn’t going to change much but I was pissed and had to do something, I wasted my entire morning. Shockingly, someone from Ted Lucas office read the letter and must have comforted Mr. Aaron Lucas about his behavior, because the next thing I know I started to receive text messages from Aaron calling me a bitch ass hoe, who needed to go find God and mutha fuckin pray (lol), followed by some girl calling saying she was going to beat my ass (all of this was coming from a man on probation, lol). At this point all I could do is laugh and go find God and pray without using profanity (lol). FYI if I come up missing because Aaron has figured out how to conjugate verbs, form complete sentences and successful read my blog, please know that he and his ghetto girl friend have found me and have killed me (lol).
Later that week my god brother was in town for a basketball tournament. I went to his game and watched the teams get ready to play. Mostly all the boys on the teams were black. There was a white boy here and there, but for the most part all Black boys, with big dreams of being an NBA star. As I watched the teams play against each other I noticed the majority of these boys had tattoos. Not just one tattoo, but several tattoos. Tattoos in places that tattoos shouldn’t be and most of these kids weren’t even old enough to drive. Tattoos down the backs and across their necks, tragedy. Who’s paying for this mess?!?! I mean tattoos run about $30 or $40 and those are the small ones. Only a few of those boys will have a chance at the NBA, and the rest will become Aaron Lucas, angry, an addict, and very very lost if we as a culture don’t do something soon and fast.
Our generation of men to come is in trouble. I’m not saying it’s entertainments, or teachers or parents fault. What I am saying is, Houston we have a problem and we’ve got to fix it. To my friend that empathies with what I’ve written, find a way to stop the death of the Black Man and Woman. It doesn’t take much, volunteer at a school or your local church. Our children need to see our positive faces.
Til Next Time
Sunday, April 10, 2011
A few days ago I wrote in my journal; Dear God , Who are you? Growing up and practically living at my father’s church, attending Sunday school classes, vacation bible school and memorizing bible verses and Easter speeches, you’d think I know exactly who God is. Last year my friend Crystal and I read the book “Eat, Pray, Love”. The author of the book had her first conversation with God on her bathroom floor, leading her to Italy, India, and Indonesia,only to become a bestselling author having her godly experience be put on the big screen last year. It’s amazing White people go to India or some estrange place that’s far away from their fast pace lives to find God. Only to return back to their fast pace world, adopting a kid from every culture across the globe, starting a foundation for the poor black kids in the inner cities, building a meditation room in their over price home, practicing yoga religiously, and just enjoying their holy new life. While Black people find God at the nearest store front church, no longer enjoying casual coloring, social drinking, or any of the worldly things they use to know and love. Only to be confined to an assigned church bench, making commitments to all church committees, singing “Jesus is on the main line, tell him what you want”. When they really want to know why they gave up good wine for witnessing and casual coloring with sexy single men/women for flirting with old farts on the Deacon/Mission board(lol). I already know, I’m going to catch a lot of hell for this, please pray for me(lol).
My friend Jai asked me if I wanted to be her groupie minus coloring, for the Lil Wayne concert/after party this past weekend. ( its our inside joke, sense I’ve always tagging along with her for every industry event). I’m usually down for any industry event but 3000 people at the Compound night club after a Lil Wayne concert sounded dangerous and like a lot of nonproductive networking for my music career. Instead I stayed home and watch reruns of NFL Access on the NFL channel (its’ my thing, plus the draft is drawing near). As I got ready to call it a night I thought about my life and how I actively participated in making every decision that has placed me where I am today. I thought about how I didn’t want to be a 30 years old woman with $1.93 in my bank account working as a nanny for a good friend, or single woman waiting for love (Shaun Phillips). To sum it all up I didn’t want to be miserable anymore. Without tears streaming down my face I simply said: Dear God, whoever you are, I don't want to be a prisoner to my worry and fear anymore.
The next morning I woke up and decided to go to the gym and not church (my grandmother is going to kill me, lol). I listen to the new Mary, Mary and burned 1000 calories. After the gym I had a slice of pizza (I won a free slice from some contest I entered awhile back), and relaxed at Star Bucks in midtown. As I sat at the StarBucks people watching I closed my eyes and asked: God, who are you? I sat there a little longer and heard… I am life. I did jump out my seat as if I saw a burning bush, I just sat in my seat and embraced him…life. Pleased by hearing God’s voice I smiled and began to laugh. I didn’t have to go to India or even to church to get my answers. All I had to do was sit still and right there is a Starbucks chair I got to know God and
Many people have definition for God and who he is to them. Liz from “Eat, Pray, Love said ; God dwells in me as me. My grandmother says God, is the almighty, who kick your ass if aint doing right (lol). I say God is life, and I choose to experience him (life) with pure enjoyment, loving every bit of it, no longer being a prisoner of worry fear and/or doubt.
To my friend whose unsure of who God is, ask him and he’ll tell you just who he is too you. You’ll know it’s him. Hopefully you wont freak out but just smile and accept him for who he is too you.
Til Next Time
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
As a big dreamer, I always want every audition or tryout to be my big break. I want every place I sing to be the place that I am discovered and Lola (the super star) is born unto the world. So far every audition/ tryout and performance has been just what they are, just another audition/ tryout, and just another performance. A few weeks ago I had gotten word that a band was looking additional singer. Being the ambitious kind of dreamer that I am, I auditioned and got the call that the band wanted me as their additional singer. My first day of practice, I quickly realized that I had just joined yet another band. The name of this band is called “Fast Company” specializing in performing songs from the 70’s and 80’s (i.e. old school), taking their dance moves very seriously all the way down to know which foot to start on when rocking from side to side ( its, right foot first). At first I wanted to quit, thinking that it would be a waste of time. But then I thought about all the great things that I wasn’t doing with my life and figured joining the band wasn’t a bad idea. I’ve come to accept the old school band for what it is and just enjoy being part of music. Plus it has become the great escape from my nanny job and living situation. It is what it is nothing more nothing less.
On the way home from practice last week I got a text from my favorite St Louis love. He was in town and wanted to know if we could hangout. Tired of having dinner with me, myself, a crying toddler, and a baby that shits worse than a grown man I didn’t hesitate responding, YES!. Our date of flirting and fun was set for Friday night. He didn’t have much planned but a movie and then back to his place, which was fine with me, anything to keep me away from the hollering baby, and that way too hyper two year old. I was excited about seeing him since we hadn’t seen each other in a while. We met in New Orleans a while back. He and I were staying in the same hotel and discovered after three hours of talking we had a lot in common. I had just broken up with the Titan for the first time and he was seeing someone in St. Louis. As fate would have it we found each other on facebook and kept in touch. I was very excited about our date, because I remembered the great chemistry/ connection we had when we first met.
When we met up for the movies he said I looked like a freshman looking for my dorm. I am about fours older than him so I took his foolish statement as a compliment, it was a very bad compliment, but it was compliment (I guess). After the movie I pulled out my blackberry to check my messages and he turns and says to me; a wise man (who’s never wrong) told me to never trust a woman with a blackberry. Shocked by his remark, I thought to myself (did I just become no good whore, based on my choice of phone purchase, this not going well at all). When we got to his house I attempted to engage in conversation, asking how he and his family were doing. In a sad and pathetic way he tells me, he and his family are fine (blah, blah, blah) boring talk. I was lost for words the whole night, thinking to myself, who is this grumpy old man and where is my exciting youthful lover I met in New Orleans!!! I couldn’t figure out why the change from positive to extremely negative, I thought about just packing my things and leaving but I needed a break from my house of baby poop, and midnight feedings (lol). So I stopped talking and started kissing. The kissing was about the nicest thing out of his mouth. We ended the night in an exhausting make out session, followed by the best sleep a girl could have ever asked for.
I really wanted my St. Louis lover to be the love of my life but he’s not, he’s just a guy that relieved me of fondling myself and giving me a goodnight sleep. I even wanted the band to be this great ambitious young group of musicians ready to take on the world but its just a group of old schoolers enjoying music while passing the time. I want both the band and my St. Louis love to be so much more than what they are, but they’re not. They’re just two situations to help me pass time while I wait for my big break and Shaun Phillips and I appreciate their company.
To my friend that wishes things are more than what they are, trust me, I know the feeling. But sometimes it is what it is, nothing more and nothing less. Appreciate the little things for what they are and continue to hope for the best.
Til Next Time