Happy Creative Beginnings Month! I realize the month is almost over but there’s still time to think about and/or start a new creative endeavor. It’s the perfect time to take a cooking class, learn to paint or write that book you’ve been talking about forever. And you don’t even have to leave home to learn a new skill if you don’t want to. Just head online where you can learn practically anything you dream of.
I’m a pretty creative chick but sometimes I too need a little motivation. Over the years I have discovered great authors who never fail to get my juices flowing. If a motivational push is what you need, try two of my all-time favorite authors.
Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés
If you haven’t read Women Who Run with the Wolves, please stop what you’re doing and buy a copy now. Yes, purchase a copy. Do not borrow one from the library. You need to own this book. Get a bunch of highlighters and some sharpened pencils while you’re at it. Dr. Estés is storyteller and this well-crafted book is filled with stories of the wild woman told through myths and fairy tales. We are all wild women at heart and this book will allow you to regain the wild woman hiding inside you.
I have been reading Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy’s work for years. I dare you to read any of her books and not feel like you can conquer the world. I’m not sure if it’s her wild woman spirit, or the vibrant colors and drawings in her books that motivate me, but whatever it is, I always feel energized and alive after reading her work.
I’m having one of those weeks. You know the type of week that starts off on a sour note and you find yourself in a funky mood for the rest of the week. Yeah, that kind of week.
After dropping my son off at school on Monday, while stopped at a red light, a young man ran into the back of my car. I don’t mean tapped it — I’m talking slammed into it. I mean fucked (excuse my French) up my bumper, lights and trunk. Okay, stuff happens. But what’s really got me pissed is this dude took off. It all happened so fast that I didn’t have time to write down his license plate or snap or picture or anything.
After he ran off, I was so pissed. Both at myself and at him. I admonished myself for not snapping a picture and for not taking off after him. Of course, taking off after him would not have been a smart move. Not in this trigger-crazy world we live in.
Now, I have to pay the price for his irresponsibility. When you work for someone else and you have issues, you go to work and do the best you can. You don’t have the option of not working. One of the perks of working for yourself is choosing not to work. But sometimes we don’t have that option, so we have to keep it moving—no matter how funky we feel.
This week was not a week for me to take time off to stew in my own depressed juices. I have deadlines to meet. But it’s been difficult getting motivated to write, even with deadlines looming. It’s taken me until today to at least not feel like crying. I’m still not at 100% but I’m hoping to make it through the week and hopefully after getting some rest this weekend I will stop beating myself up over an incident that I had no control over. At least I learned my lesson. If I ever get in an accident again, I’m not getting out of my car without my phone ready to snap a picture, or at least with a pen and paper handy.
I’m sure you’ve heard by now about “comedian” Larry Wilmore’s White Correspondents Association Dinner debacle. The Nightly Show host rounded out the evening with an excruciatingly long 20-minute, racially laced diatribe, ultimately ending his set by referring to President Obama an “my nigga”.
Although many have said that Wilmore’s use of the term was endearing and not offensive. I beg to differ. I feel it was, not only offensive, but disrespectful and as Al Sharpton said, “in bad taste.”
Even if we remove the last statement, Wilmore entire set was cringe worthy. I just rewatched it and my initial impression hasn’t wavered—he’s not funny. He set the tone for the night with his “negro night” joke and then proceeded to drone on in his nasally, slow-cadenced voice. His over emphasis on blackness, I thought was a bit much. Wait, scratch that, I don’t mind racial jokes per se—but damn it, I need the jokes to be funny.
As the cameras panned the crowd, to me most looked bored. Wilmore’s jokes received lukewarm reception, groans and boos. Not to mention blank, awkward stares and nervous giggles. Wolf Blitzer was looking all kinds of pissed off. You know under his breath he was probably calling Wilmore the N-word—and not the one meant as a term of endearment. Don Lemon giving him the finger was the best part of the entire tirade.
From Bill Clinton stripper jokes to Bernie Sanders old folk jokes, this guy sucked big time. Add to that his Ted Cruz Zodiac Killer set, well, it wasn’t my cup of tea.
He should have sensed that he was bombing. Didn’t he have a backup set of jokes he could have whipped out?
Now I read that he says his jokes “didn’t fit the room.” Duh! As far as his controversial final remarks, he says he doesn’t know if he would take it back if he had to replay the scenario.
My problem with Wilmore’s statement is two-fold. First, let’s say a white comedian or speaker had said it. Mind you, with the same perceived terms of endearment. Would the people who are supporting Wilmore have a problem with it? I don’t think so. People would be up in arms. But, you can’t have it both ways. If you expect white people to respect the president, you can disrespect him in a public forum.
Second, let’s keep it “100”, Wilmore and President Obama aren’t homeboys hanging on the block. In that situation, okay maybe it would be okay. If he whispered it in the president’s ear when he was finished with his set, okay, that’s cool. But for me personally, I thought it was unprofessional, disrespectful and certainly the wrong forum to make that statement. And it’s not just because of the sea of white faces watching from within the room and from the comfort of their own homes. I would feel the same way if the crowd was largely black.
guess my main issue is his lack of respect and the fact that they don’t have the type of relationship that warrants throwing around nigga the way Wilmore did. Just because you’re black does not give you the right to get comfy with me. I would get highly offended if some random black person called me their nigga. Nigga please, you don’t know me like that.
Myra Faye Turner, Writer