My Mistress is Called... (or, When Inspiration Fails You) /  by *nickels*

I was thinking about the nature of inspiration one day when the idea of a haiku series came to me. I thought about how powerful it is that so many of us wait for inspiration. We wait on her (I say her because all of the most powerful forces tend to be female. That, and English vocabulary lacks the fullness to describe the intangible quality of ephemeral forces.) So yes, I was fascinated by the fact that so many of us just sit and wait for inspiration to do begin the doing of things. I was also intrigued by the reality that so many of us not only want to be inspired but also want to inspire others. I mean we sometimes refuse to work, or find an excuse not to make because "I'm not inspired. I don't have inspiration!"

I get it. To be in the zone of inspiration. To have things just manifest out of you, in your head, or in your hands, wherever your creation tools are (pencil, hammer, whatever you use to make great works).

It's euphoric. It's orgasmic. It feels otherworldly.

When you're in it, really in the thick of it, everything else in the world disappears. Fuck time. Fuck obligations. Fuck manners. Inspiration has you and the moment feels like your levitating in a space between times.

But what about those times when you aren't in this magical realm? When she's not visited you? When it's a regular day, but you still are tasked with creating? You are still a vessel, are you not? You still have the urge to create, do you not?

I imagine that Inspiration waits for us who dote on her, she wants us to work for her (attention). Much like work begets work, work seduces a visitation from Inspiration. I imagine that she wants the craftsmen who desire her presence to be so skilled so they can speak on it! #GameRecognizeGameSis.

So, while we wait for her to bless us, and don't act like you won't, because you will---we all love to be inspired and we all love to inspire, I challenge you to keep working. So that when she comes, it's glorious.

Yes, I do realize the double entendre. Your point?)

***

My Mistress is Called


My mistress is called.
In faith, she calls me her muse.
But in truth, she's mine.

She's Inspiration.
Yes, Inspiration itself,
she is my mistress.

I call my mistress
my all-consuming ruler
Then I wait. Nothing.


Now, in her absence,
steadily I move, for she
rewards all efforts

Inspiration comes.
and she sits and laughs at me.
I am enchanted.


My hands, too slow and
ill-equipped to document
this visitation.

But still, I persist.
Inspiration, she's fleeting.
What to say? Do? Write?

Hurry before she...
Inspiration leaves. I'm left
hollowed out by her.


Capricious she is.
Time? Is lost doting on her.
Effort... she rewards.

In her absence, work.
Tis my discipline she loves.
Discipline draws her.

So, I work, I must
An opus will bring her near
She is my mistress



PHOTO CREDIT - Antonio Mora is a beast. Technique: Double exposure. More on his work here.

Definition of mistress:

1:  a woman who has power, authority, or ownership; a tutor who has achieved mastery in some field.

Definition of inspiration:

1:  a : divine influence, power, or action on a person, intellect, or emotions
2 :  the act of drawing in; specifically --- the drawing of air into the lungs

Why Reading is Fundamental - Monologue Prep /  by *nickels*

Do you're research. Do you're research. Do you're research.

When you pull a monologue from a play, read the damn play. [Full Stop]

Been using that same piece for a hot minute and still haven't read it? Read the damn play. [Full Stop]

You're in rehearsals and you keep being surprised by new text. READ THE DAMN PLAY! Read! Read the damn script. Ain't no half-steppin! Do not pass go unless you've READ IT ALL.
Yes, I know you're brilliant. I know your imagination is full that you can create all the imagined circumstances you want. But there's absolutely no feeling like being anchored in a history -- a history that is freely given to you. It boggles the mind the number of times I used to fly solo in my early auditioning days before I got "it" --- that reading the whole damn thing is a good thing! It's like going on a road trip and having a map, the GPS, and unlimited roaming. It'll be damn near impossible to get lost. You have so much information to pull from. Ruminate on. Luxuriate in. (I love ending sentences with prepositions.)

It's hard, even for me, and I LOVE TO READ. You know what I do when I move to a knew city? Find a grocery store, get a transportation pass, and find the closest library. That is me in a nutshell. And with all that passion for reading, sometimes reading the full play still gets to me, which is crazy because reading is a pretty chill activity. Sit. Look. Repeat. (Eat or drink if you want to.)
It's funny that I find myself in my current predicament. I need to read some text, quite a few tragedies. But... I don't want to be depressed. I know, I know, of all the reasons for not reading (like.. you know... actually not being able to read, this one feels weak as hell.) But dagnabit, I'm already going through a lot. So, to willingly read a script that will depress me feeds the procrastination beast within me because I don't want to make  myself go somewhere (in my mind) that I don't want to be. I DON'T WANNA! So what must I tell myself?

 It's just a story. It isn't real. Nothing in the story is currently happening. Fascinating isn't it? The power of storytelling? That something imagined can have such an impact! That very (continual) epiphany makes me want to be a storyteller more. So all I have to do is read it. Even though the text will take me on a wild ride of emotions.

But it's just a story. Have you ever woken up from a bad dream where someone betrayed you, hurt you, did you epically dirty? And you end up walking around that entire morning pissed about something that never happened? Pissed at someone who didn't actually do anything to you? Pissed at something happening in your subconscious? Angry at the world about your life... you know... that DREAM life that didn't happen? Or have you ever watched a TV show or movie and by the end, was so angered/hurt by a character's actions and so you stop being able to like the actor who played that character? An actor who in day-to-day life didn't actually do anything? BUT YOU'RE STILL MAD? 

It's just a story.

So yes, I need to get over myself because I have some reading to do. When you're sharing a part of a story (read:the monologue), it behooves you know know the entire story. Ain't no half-stepping. You want to elicit the reaction from the audience and move them. You want to have the story somehow resonate with our very real human experiences of love, loss, lust, longing and so on and so forth. You want to see life. Share that. The power is in the details.


The Ease of Persistence /  by *nickels*


Persistence. Persistence, much like patience, is a virtue that is known well but not (always) well attended. And it makes sense if you think about it. It's not the most exciting one, to persist. Persisting sounds like effort, to push against something, something hard, dangerous, crude, unyielding. But recently, dawned on me that persistence doesn't have to be heavy-handed. It doesn't have to be hard. It can simply be ...to continue. Just continue. As in, wake up, do, sleep, repeat. Just continue. You don't have to push against anything or anyone. You just have to continue. Continue to be. Continue to do. Persist. And so, I will. *
*
#persist #persistence #continue #wordoftheday #blogger #newblog #justdoit #virtue #nigerianblogger #goals

How To Win Friends Doing Petty Things /  by *nickels*

I have a friend. She's smart, learn-ed, with a Masters degrees to boot. She's also funny, generous, and extremely open-minded. She's the kinda friend that you confess your sins too because she's not gonna give you the side-eye right away. By all intents and purposes, she is a paragon of empathy and intellect. God bless her because this kind of homie is hard to come by. 

 And yet, we still argue about petty sh*t. 

 Define petty- "of little importance; trivial."

 What were we arguing about, you ask? Picture it, USA, 20-something-something---
(Lights up on a cafe. Two friends are hanging out having a grand ole time.)

FRIEND
Irregardless of the situation, she really shouldn't have done that. Don't you agree?

ME
 ...Irregardless is not a word.

FRIEND
Yes it is.

ME
No it's not.

FRIEND
Yes, it is.

ME
No, it's not.

FRIEND
... Yes it is!

ME
Just because you yell it doesn't make it true.

FRIEND
Just because you went to Harvard---

ME
While I didn't actually walk away in all my Viola Davis-esque glory, this exchange regarding "irregardless" went on until I, being the non-petty one, dropped it. That's right, we argued about bullsh*t that does not matter. Was I still mildy ticked that she didn't take my advice? Yes. Doesn't she know I'm trying to save her from herself? Doesn't she know how smart I am? Doesn't she see my degrees dagnabit? Why won't she stop being basic? Imma take the high road and drop it. .... Irregardless is still not a word. (Yes, I know what's she's trying to say, I'm not a stickler for language to the point where I don't acknowledge simple context. I'm also not here for supporting the patriarchy and the forced use of one way of the English language. I really didn't think the argument was going to go this far. But the bear was poked... what can you do? We had to wait for the food to come out in order for the white flags (read: table napkins) before a truce could be formed.)

 A fight like this shouldn't end a friendship. Luckily, ours didn't. But, there are friendships that have been lost over seemingly simple things... inconsequential things... petty things or, the little things. 

 Why should the little things matter? Little things, or a lack of respect for the little things denotes a lack of respect for the person who cares about those little things. As in, you don't care enough to do something little... simple... petty. As in, I sacrificed a whole lot of shit for you, and you didn't respect me enough... to do something simple that would have meant the world to me. Yes... friendships (and other great loves) have been lost over petty shit. No matter how shaky or solid the foundation.

 So, make sure you care about the little things. It's the bare minimum you could do. The basic. The petty

 But for when you *want* to practice your petty game read below. (Yes this is petty. So. What).

                                Petty Practice

  • Whether irregardless is a word. (It's not).
  • What other people chose to spend *their* money on.
  • If tomatoes, avocados, or cucumbers are fruits.
  • Can you clean this up? Why haven't you cleaned this up?
  • What did you do all day... instead of cleaning up?
  • What do you want to eat for dinner?
  • What do you want to watch/go see?
  • Other people's mom's cooking.

The Best (Basic) Chicken Recipe /  by *nickels*

"Sh*t happens. Life happens. Chicken happens." I had to whisper those very words to myself over and over again after consuming a very sad piece of chicken the other night. How did this happen? Why did this happen? Why was it happening to me? Bad chicken shouldn't happen to good people. I'm a good person right? I've made mistakes, but this chicken... no, that was cruel.


And I tried not to dwell. When life gives you bad chicken make chicken salad? Pot pie? Tears? What do I do with this? Like... of all the proteins to mess up... you picked chicken? Really!?? Like you have to go out of your way to fuck up chicken, not poultry, but chicken! 

If you mess up chicken, I want to hold you, comfort you, speak life into your being. I want to nurture you before someone else meets you and your sad-abusive-cooking ways. If you fuck up chicken, everyone else you encounter will look at you like... "but how though?" A well-trained therapist may ask you "but why though?"



It's not my favorite animal protein by I really appreciate it. Why? Because it's very hard to feel bad/sad/mad/hurt/depressed/ guilty while eating chicken. For me anyway. Chicken is important to Nigerians, chicken (or an adjacent poultry cousin, big ups to hen. If you've never had hen prepared by a Nigerian... shurrup and go getcho life). Even when the chicken is straight up fried, I struggle to feel negatively. Negative health factors? What are those?! In my mind, I'm eating lean meat. End of story. Instead, my mind thinks "well, you could be eating red meat and that's way worse, so you are all the way good!" And thirdly, of many points, Chicken is also one of the more inexpensive proteins to consume. Even at my leanest of days/paychecks, drumsticks are here to save the day. Hello!

Chicken is the every man meat. Every culture cooks it. Every market sells it out. And there are so many ways to cook it. You know that scene where Bubba talks to Forrest Gump about all the ways to make shrimp? It's a lie. That scene is supposed to be for all the ways there is to make chicken. 

So, to prevent future travesties, below is a simple preparation method. I did not say best, I said simplest! Note - you'll need a consistent heat source, salt, pepper, oil, a solid cooking vessel (ovenproof skillet or baking tray, and your favorite cut of chicken.  Start with a thigh--no don't be flashy. START WITH A THIGH - it's got the most fat, is the most tender, and thus, will taste the best. Let's go.


BASIC AF BAKED CHICKEN

  • Heat oven to something hot (not boiling. Something like 400° F.)
  • Remove chicken out of packaging and clean in sink (with water, not soap). Throw away packaging. 
  • Grease ovenproof skillet or baking sheet with oil. 
  • Season dem tighs with salt and pepper (and whatever else you want).
  • Put deliciousness in oven, skin-side down, and let cook until brown/crisp (about 10-12 minutes... so the first portion of a 30-min sitcom). Rotate to other side.
  • Cut off oven
  • Transfer chicken to mouth
  • (PS. It's okay to let Pinterest be your guide. Here are some of my faves)


3 Ways To Be The Perfect Aunt /  by *nickels*

 Folx is birthin' babies. Left. Right. Front. Back... someone in my life is either with with child or has recently produced one, the closest of which being one of my dear sisters. And with a nugget (my term of affection for a baby) comes responsibility. Lots of it. So...if I've birthed NO babies, why do I find myself in a position of quasi-shephardship? 
Why is this my problem?
This should not make me anxious.  I am, after all, the oldest of a large tribe (oldest of six. I'm Nigerian - this is normal for us). I should be used to it by now. But, something about rearing the next generation and the weight of this added (read: unrequested) responsibility got to me. Fortunately, I've instituted a few practices to ease the anxiety AND win the competition of best muthaf*ckin aunt--yes, it is a thing. 

  • Staring Game: perfect your staring game. Whether the child likes you or naw, staring works. And by work, I mean they are instantly transfixed and captivated by your giganticness. Add repetitive laughter, neck rolls/pops, and one-word syllabic sounds that start with consonants, and the object of your attention will laugh uproariously. 
    BONUS POINTS if this laugh happens in front of the parents. 






  • Pass It. Knowing when to pass the progeny to a grandparent, aunt/uncle, or whomever... is considered respected, is gold. You'll be deemed loving not needy. Warm not suffocating. Responsible not power-hungry. You'll avoid the nappie changes and cries that sound like hell, while still creating enough memories to embarrass your niece/nephew. BONUS POINTS if you avoid a blowout.

  • Food: Have food (and water) in the form the child can consume. And make it bland as f**k. One need not be blamed for a pepper-induced screaming fit. BONUS POINTS if you remember to pack stuff for yourself. 

    Basically, be there and be present. In the end, it's not all *on* you. The fallback/blame is reserved for the parents (then maybe the grandparents or godparents, in that order... I think.) 

    Happy rearing.

    -N

    About Me /  by *nickels*

    About:

    Hi There! I'm Nickclette Izuegbu (pronounced 'ee-ZWAY-boo') and I love to create! I was born and raised in Houston, TX, or as I like to call it, Little Nigeria. Howdy!  The eldest of six, I spent a lot of time wrangling youngsters, tutoring, finding quiet places to read,  and getting used to lots of different personalities. Although I've always had a sneaking suspicion that performing was something I wanted to get do, it wasn't until I attended Harvard University that I became entranced by the dramatic arts. It was there where I also got the chance to study abroad in London for a semester studying theater. I was hooked. After graduating with a BA in Social Anthropology and a Secondary Field in Dramatic Arts, I headed to Philadelphia to to try my hand in its cultural expansive artistic community. I couldn't have wished for a better place to begin developing my artistic voice.

    I am recent graduate of The University of Texas at Austin, where I received my M.F.A. in Acting. During my journey at UT, my passion for writing exploded along with my desire to create and produce my own plays, television shows, and films.  This passion arose from a hunger to create stories that would always allow me to continually work and develop pieces of art that would speak truthfully from my experiences experiences. And thus, EaseWayCreative was born.

    When I'm not performing, I enjoy reading memoirs and comics, going for long walks anywhere, cooking or laughing. I've always been a bit of a vagabond and a nomad (I swear, I move at least once a year). To collaborate, cast, or work with a really interesting actor-writer-producer-anthropologist-teacher, feel free to contact me at nizuegbu@gmail.com or connect via social media @easewaysays. Let's get creating! 

    Artists Code /  by *nickels*

    So here we are. I'm learning how to code. A combination of things that lead me to this point:

    1. I want to be able to make this (late into my life without the need of others) and make money from these things
    2. I like learning new things especially language
    3. I'm a nerd/smart and creative and coding that let's you do both 
    4. Ego? Curiousity? Just 'cause to keep my brain sharp.
    Step 1: "Summer school" which is me teaching myself a bunch of stuff
    Step 2: Bootcamp
    Step 3: Get a Job doing it

    This sounds so foolish it might almost work.

    PS. Things that are happenings 
    1. I get really excited when something clicks
    2. I re-read a lot. You know when you've read a page and you've forgotten what you've read OR... when you're eyes cross over and you tell yourself "wait a minute... what?" That's happening... a lot. 
    How humbling it all is. 

    Theater Hell aka the Student Matinees /  by *nickels*

    The student matinee.

    Correction.

    The. Dreaded. Student. Matinee.

    The Lord is my shepherd I shall not .... There are so many things surrounding a student matinee that go against protocol or standard practices that it's now wonder that so many fear it. Who the hell wants to wake up early in the morning, after an exhausting two-show day that ended just short of midnight for the uncharted waters of the ... 5-18 demographic?! You know, the same demographic that makes folks not want to become a substitute teacher? Not all of us are born with Sister Mary Clarence gumption... or want to have to tap into that "check-a-kid-that-should-have-had-corporal-punishment" strength.


    Unlike the geriatric early bird performance (big-ups to AARP), or the rambunctious Friday evening post-work-week crowd aka one shot/two shots/ three shots/ a dollar, or even the appreciative family midday Saturday audience - an early morning student performance is. the. realest.

    Bus line wraps around the theater as. It's gonna be an epic performance.
    Ask any actor if they're excited for their student matinee and you'll see their eyes glaze over  with apprehension as they mentally go through the following questions:
    • Will they cooperate? 
    • Will they understand it? 
    • Will they talk back? 
    • Will they fall asleep? 
    • Will they use their phones? 
    Even though the same questions exist for a "regular audience" (let's be honest, they can be mad disrespectful as well), there's something about this younger demographic that gives people ulcers.

    How do I feel about student matinees?  I. Love. Them.

    In my experience, most are experiencing live theater for the first time. For them it's still an exciting novelty. Seeing them react to the show and spit responses to the ensemble is thrilling. They're... still innocent. Receptive and Responsive. Honest and Untamed. They don't yet feel the social pressures of donors and benefactors. Feeling them embrace to the enormity of an epic show in an epic space is humbling. I'm always reminded of my own feelings of awe. Whether it's during the first table-read, aka, the first day of school, or during the tech rehearsals that transform a barren space into a bustling new worlds (both "on-stage" and "off-stage), or even experiencing the lights dim before a show begins, that feeling *never* goes away.

    It's magic. It's fascinating. It's everything.

    And hearing my young audiences respond to the show, sometimes with the most... worldly of vocabularies (note the euphemism) is eye-opening and inspiring. Student matinees remind me of the birth of my passion for theater and live performance. That's where my desire to be a storyteller came to be. Seeing students have their first taste of what I had excites and rejuvenates me.

    Yes, we've got our fair share of nappers -- can you blame them, it's dark and cold in there. And yes, we've got whisperers and live reactions. But dammit, I like performing for the little rascals. They live. THEY MUTHAF*CKIN LIVE. What more would you ask for?

    So I promise, never to be afraid, of the matinee. Why? It's gon' be lit.



    PS. Hearing a bunch of teenagers lose it over a kiss, or the lights going down is hilarious. I forget that those things were once unchartered territory for as well.

    Every Thought You've Had While in Church - Black Edition /  by *nickels*

    I enjoy attending a good worship service. I do so with an open mind but I also know to engage/question what I hear. I can commune with others and get centered for the week. 

    However, being the human that I am, I... at times, my mind runs a mile a minute. Here is one such marathon than recently occurred.

    *   *   *   *  
    Okay! 

    Okay! 

    I see you fam. 

    Man, the fashion in church is on point today. I...really feel like a bum. I should really start to try dress up more for the Lordt. Or at least moe makeup. But wait,I'm not here for a fashion show. That's vanity. But if I care enough to put on makeup for an interview or an audition, I should care enough for the Lordt. I'm a bad person. Wait, if I've acknowledged my shortcomings, doesn't that mean I'm a good person?

    "Nix, You is Good. You is Kind. You is Important." - Auntie Viola
    Okay! I see lesbians in the house living their lives all Christian and what not. I see you. I see you 2017. And, coming through in the rear, we've got several effeminate male couples. (That's a pun. I'm so clever. Who can I share this joke with in here. Wait, can I talk about homosexuality at in a black church? Or is that reserved for Unitarian churches? Or is that Universalist churches? Am I the only one who thinks of these things?) 

     So, black churches are being open *and* saving souls. Gon' head. When did I start saying 'gon head? It's time to leave the South. Thank God for AC. How much does it cost to keep the AC running in the place? Is this church considered a mega-church? What constitutes a mega-church? Multiple serves in one day? Streaming those services online? Why didn't I just watch it online today? You see/hear me Lordt? I'm being a responsible adult. Look at me taking a shower, going to church, praising the Lordt and shit. I mean, stuff. Nikki, stop swearing already.

     The Lordt knows my heart.


    It's so cute to see so many black people in one space just being happy... and free... and not feeling like someone is gonna die. Fuck. I just bummed myself out. Okay, wait, let me find a happy place. 

     There are a lot of families in this church. Will I ever have kids? Do all these kids have fathers? Why did I just think that? But where is their father? Is he watching football? Is he atheist? Is he at work? Is he dead?

     I miss my dad.

     I'm glad my mom is still alive.

     My mom is crazy. Okay not crazy-crazy... just Nigerian.

     How many choirs does this church need to have? I should join a ministry. But folks is nosy? When did I start saying "folks is"? Whatever, fuck the patriarchy and colonialism, people know what I mean. It's not lost on me that I'm in a church worshipping while also thinking "fuck the patriarchy and colonialism." I'm a complex person. I like me. Oh, this is my SONG! Does the choir *really* have to stay for all the day's services? Are they annoyed that they've already heard this sermon today? You know, pastors are great actors. This is like a standup set. I need to work on my stand-up set later. I also need to work on some monologues when I get home.


    When does the pastor get home? Or, does he go out to eat? Do people feed him? Does his wife go too?  Are they still happy? Like for real, for real? Maybe? I hope so. Are they in counseling? Should all couples go to counseling?

     Why do pastor's at bigger churches have a secret service team? Do they get paid? What's the job title, deacon? Or is that just what they called them on that TV show "Amen." That was a good show. (Humming the theme song. Realizes people can here me. Pulls out phone to read lyrics.) This still counts as getting the Word right?

    How come some churches feel like tourist attractions? How come churches spend money on things like crucifix-like obelisks? Couldn't that money have gone to a shelter... or several shelters? I'm pretty sure it could have. I mean at least at the Vatican, there is space in that mug so theoretically, it could house people. But a giant statue, that just seams odd?

    Ooop, the sermon is starting, where's my pen? 



    -Fin

    Let's not even get started with trying to figure out the leaving situation. Folks stay leaving before the sermon is over. It's like cue the "let's save someone" music and people want to be the rush.

    I can't.

    Also...

    I love us.

    You Betta Work: Grind & Consistency /  by *nickels*

    In the immortal words of all that is holy, in the name of Rihanna and Rupaul, Patrón Saints of living your best life according to your own rules, on this spring day in the year of our Lord two thousand seventeen - "Work!" The work is important. The doing of said work is important. You must do it. The process will be dirty. There's something about it. Learn to do it, because it doesn't matter how tired you are.   

    An Excerpt from the Book of Work - Rihanna

    I been work, work, work, work, work, work
    You see me I be work, work, work, work, work, work
    You see me do me dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt
    There's something 'bout that work, work, work, work, work, work
    When you a gon' learn, learn, learn, learn, learn, learn
    Me na care if me tired, tired, tired, tired, tired, tired

    The Work, the manifestation of hours of thought and arduous process, is amazing. The DOING of work, however, is a completely different beast altogether. And we know this to be true, because a lot of people stay dreamers. We've all been there.

    The doing of the work, the process of creating, the making of the thing, requires two things: Grind and Consistency. Grind and Consistency. Grind and Consistency. After graduation, gone are the days of forced milestones of paper deadlines, popped quizzes, blitzed exams. Nope. I don't have a handler a la Britney Spears so if I want to achieve/manifest anything of merit, I have to do that work my GotDam self.

    Excerpt cont'd

     There's something 'bout that work, 
    work, work, work, work, work 
    When you a gon' learn, 
    learn, learn, learn, learn, learn
    Me na care if me tired, 
    tired, tired, tired, tired, tired

    Not gon' lie though, when you're juggling a "day-job" and a 5-minute Snapchat curiousity turns into a 5-hour "Living Single" binge, the vortex of distraction becomes real. It's happened to me. Yes, I was embarrassed. Yes, I did judge myself. Yes, I then proceeded to watch another youtube clip. I'M NOT PERFECT! NO, I'M NOT BEING SENSITIVE. YES, YOU ARE BEING HARD ON ME. Okay. I'm done.

    And while the things I wanna do (writing, performing, producing, teaching), are enjoyable things for me, it can be easy to fall prey to feelings of tedium because... well consistency. Consistency in work is what leads to results. Continued results manifests legacy. And legacy is what we're all after. We're all fighting time and wanting to leave "proof" of our existence. A footnote that we were here. That we did something with our gifts. Yes it's ego, but ego can lead to good things. Using something your naturally good at, or were nurtured into cultivating, and exploiting the shit out of it is good. (Exploit: to make full use of and derive benefit from.) You used it to be fucking useful, used it for the greater good, because hell, we're here ain't we? Might as well do something with yourself.

    So. Get. To. Work...work...work...work...work...work... right after I finish watching this Rihanna video. I promise. 

    PS. If you read the lyrics to the song, Drake, being very drake-onion, was still trying to distract Rihanna from her work in this video. 

    Gumbo Is Not A Rich Man's Dish /  by *nickels*


    Gumbo is not a rich man's dish. It's not even a poor man's dish to be honest. Gumbo, is straight up, without a doubt, a dish for the family. This communal entity couldn't be anything other than a dish for the people. (We'll temporarily ignore the fact that gumbo was very likely a meal that was created from scraps left from a less than benevolent owner/master/community - if you get my drift). When you add up all the ingredients needed to produce a truly delectable pot, you are guaranteed to spend a fair amount. Granted, "fair amount" varies depending on one's income, but baseline costs do not match that of a spaghetti bolognese recipe. According to Gallup, "those with incomes of $75,000 or more per year are averaging $180 per week, compared with $144 for those with incomes of $30,000 to $74,999." Spending upwards of $75 for one meal...that *you* have to do the work for, is not in budget for the average American family.  

    Sure, gumbo, like fine wine, is made to get better with time. But, if you're anything like my family, you're lucky if the gumbo makes it to day 3. (Damn them heathens and their bigazz to-go-containers.) So yes, to make enough for a family to last a few days, it's a huge communal effort of epic proportions. 

    Picture it. A family. A large fictional family lives near a bayou. No. Lives near the woods. (Just go with it, I'm creating a mood here.) It's the middle of the summer. A Louisiana backdrop. The children are hungry. The adults are hungry. Everybody's hungry. Two days ago someone mentioned gumbo and ever since, the house has had dreams of succulent ingredients seasoning a pot of delicious broth. 

    The children are all sent out to gather ingredients to add to this imagined pot. It must feed the family for days. One person is sent to find crabs; the cleverest and sharpest kids of the bunch are tasked with this effort. Quick and nimble they are. Another is sent to get sausage. Yet another is off to the store for a thickening agent, most-likely cornmeal or flour. And yet another finds okra that's in season. As they return, one by one, they toss it in a humongous pot, a pot that was likely a source of great fear for the youngest child who was teased with tales of witches boiling misbehaving children in the pot. (I've got an avid imagination.)

    I was hungry when I wrote this. 
    Some of this is anthropologically sound and historically fact; the rest of this conjuring shall live in the realm of folklore because a good story is a good story - especially when it involves food.

    Every culture has some version of "throw-it-in-a-pot-and-add-water" food. How can a culture not? But those who fall at the bottom make do. I type this words with a reverence for their/our creativity and ingenuity. I'm one of 6 so feeding a large family when options are limited, is a laudable undertaking that I respect. That's what gumbo is. A dish intended for the family. A dish that requires contribution from everyone.

    All that to say, when someone is cooking for you, don't be an asshole. Help cut a veg, clean a dish, or purchase an herb or two. Food is love. Also, iPhones have a new "meal" emoji that looks kinda like gumbo so ... there's always that. 

    Jollof is Bae - Haiku #1 /  by *nickels*

    Jollof Haiku #1

     Birthdays and Weddings
    Celebrations and Goodbyes
    Jollof, you were there.

    Home. Every culture has a handful of culinary delights that evoke the most palpable, romantic images of home. Home-cooking is sacred. The term is uttered with a smile that's capsulized the experience of warmth, comfort and safety. It's in this place where we consumed during our highest of highs, lowest of lows, and on on our most average of days. Just the hint of fried onions, plantain, or tomatoes and chilis takes me to those largely communal spaces filled with laughter and tears, but ultimately support. 

    In college, I took an anthropology course on "Food & Culture." My final paper? A piece titled "Food & Sex." The research unearthed the similarities with how both are consumed, primally and to satisfy a need. No longer life imitating art imitating life. Rather, food begets sex begets food and so on. Fortunately, globalism allows us all to have a nuanced palette! ;)

    To accompany life's momentous events and rites of passage, we now have an expansive menu of solid requirements. For Nigerians (and those in the diaspora), that will always be Jollof Rice. Diaspora be damned, if you're having an event, somber or celebratory, if there's no jollof, you will be shamed. Publicly and privately. Nigerians don't do "nice-eties. They ... educate, ruthlessly with the sliver of the tongue leaving a mark so painful, you shan't make the same mistake - the lack of jollof rice - twice. Whether it's at a wedding of a cousin, of an uncle, who's brother is getting married, or I'm in London and the cafe down the street has take-away jollof, I'm getting my culinary jollies on, okay?! So while this simple haiku does have... "intense bits" ultimately, it's an acknowledgement of the love I have for home and a "happy place." #JollofIsBae.



    Serena Williams is Pregnant & Black Girl Magic Continues To Be A Thing /  by *nickels*

    Serena Williams is with-child and #blackgirlmagic continues to be a thing. Yes, ring the alarm. BLACK GIRL MAGIC IS A MUTHAF*CKIN THING. And not in the magical negro way. Or in the way that black women have always been superheroes without a capes a la "yes massa, I shall rear your children, bear your weight (forcibly), cook your meals, hide my crown and glory, and brace the whips and scorns of th'opressor's wrong. No, in the way that she was pursuing her purpose while creating life kinda way. 

    Yeah, she did the damn thing. She won the Australian Open when she was 8 weeks pregnant against her #blackgirlmagic sister Venus Williams while being 35 which many medical field would rudely consider a "geriatric pregnancy."

    Yeah she did the damn thing.

    So now we're at a quandary of sorts. On the one hand, I'm not okay with people thinking all of us are superhuman beings who can bear the weight of the world while slaying dragons that are imagined and real. On the other hand, I'm reassessing my goals and thinking that 

    A. There is nothing that I can't accomplish and B. What am I doing with my life? 

    I've got to get to work.

    Yeah, she did the damn thing.

    This, in my opinion is a glorious thing and I am oh so happy for her. And she's got a supportive (by all public accounts) partner in Rreddit co-founder) and they do cute things together like getting pedicures where fishies eat their feet, or going bowling, or walking on the page. Sigh. Le sigh. Le all the sighs. The romantic in me that watches J-LO movies and doesn't completely despise the move "Pretty Woman" is having all the feels and here for all the things. Not to mention, this means that Beyonce's twins and Serena's future nugget get to play and make future music videos about being the baddest!

    Serena Williams - Living Her Best Life

    Serena Williams - Still Living Her Best Life
    Serena Williams - Always Living Her Best Life

    Positive Triggers of WGN's Underground /  by *nickels*

    Underground. I watch for a lot of reasons. The acting. The storytelling. The costumes. The cinematography. The representation of it all. The presence of women (of color) in front of the screen. Aisha Hinds. Jurnee Smollett-Bell. Amirah Vann. Jasika Nicole. Dewanda Wise. Misha Green. And there's the AAW showrunner Misha Green too?!?! Talk about a body of work in your field having a team that is inspirational as fuck! I'm here for it. ALL. OF. IT.

    I've wanted to be an actor since I was about 6/7 years old. My first role? I played a slave that picked cotton in my elementary school's Black History Month play in the second grade. You couldn't tell me nothing! I was the best cotton picker in the world that day! I mean, in my mind, I was WORKING. (I'll elaborate on the (in)appropriateness of this performance later.) So yes, me watching UNDERGROUND is not surprising. I am an actress. I am a writer. I like creating and telling stories. And if I had to, as history has proven to women like myself over and over again, I will write these stories and surround myself with a badass team of like-minded folx. 

    That being said, watching Underground... is difficult. It has triggers! And while some of it I've experienced, I can't claim all of it as my own. Is that how triggers work I wonder? Must you have claim to the pain? To some degree yes. But seeing someone suffer at the hands of physical and psychological abuse is a difficult. Let alone a person who likes like me, and had I been born a few years earlier, I likely would have suffered the same abuse. When it comes to Underground sometimes I have to stop and check-in with Twitter at a later date because #toomuchtrauma. And all that trauma has been passed down.

    Not always proud of it, but sometimes I'm thankful that 'streaming' is a thing. And while all of this technological advances allows me to "skip past the discomfort," should be allowed to skip past it? What is the requirement to check? And does this mean I have privilege?

    So, I oft decide to dutifully watch because #theculture #representation #playcousins #masterclass in #writing, #acting, #storytelling. Those are positive triggers. Triggers to move forward and get to getting.


    A Tale of Two Shea (Moistures) /  by *nickels*

    Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Whether they are rocking a clean fade, locs, curls, or straight tresses, women care about their crown. It needs love. And money. Especially for black women who spend an estimated $7.5 billion on beauty AND spend 80% more on beauty products than their counter parts.

    While my maintenance needs are low, I still need lots of tender-loving care. After having to decide between groceries or a a relaxer my first year after college, I embraced my kinky-curls at the big chop fork in the road, let my hair roam freely while eating a homemade potato. Times were tough, but like Auntie Maya taught me, "still I rise. Despite the lack of attention "for my kind" in the beauty industry, I learned how to take care of my hair. Surprise Surprise. Fortunately, this all coincided with the proliferation and popularity of natural hair gurus and Youtube being their platform of choice. Companies like Shea Moisture, Aunt Jessie's, and Curls won big. Finally,ladies wanting to embrace their natural hair had an oasis in the desert of haircare options. 

    Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. On the 24th day of April, in the year of our like 2017, Shea Moisture made a faux pas. The released an ad that featured three (3) white women and (1) fair-skinned person of color. With a three (3) second tag at the end. I caught myself watching the ad thinking "Shea Moisture markets to white women?" "Shea Moisture markets to straight hair now?" "The biggest problem with dealing with hair is color?" 

    The nuance of the shade/attack is epic, and at first glance, if you're not in the know, you won't notice. Basically, you built your brand, and subsequent "come-up-ense," on the backs of black women and then said, bye Felicia. And then, to hide the what you did, you "threw us a bone" and included three (3) seconds of darker shade black women at the end. You know what that feels like, an afterthought. t.  

    Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. And #BlackTwitter responded in kind. I'm not one for a public dragging, and I'm bracing myself for the day where I will have to accept the critique and laugh at my misgivings, but the response was quick, cutting, and hysterical. Some hits include



    Fortunately, Shea Moisture listens to the customer and has pulled the ad and apologized. While it can't be unseen, I give them props for apologizing and taking ownership of the mistake They will not be defined by this moment, simply morphed by it. In the meantime, what are they going to do to the marketing team? Some shakeups need to happen. For this to have been okay-ed... the team is either all white, only has one black person, and said black person might have been male. 

    Jollof Rice Is King - The Kickstarter /  by *nickels*

    There's been so much drama over who makes the best jollof rice, Nigerians or Ghanaians. This is the ultimate competition to determine once and for all who is THE BEST. This iconic show-down WILL be filmed for all to see.

     The cast of the "Nneka The Uber Driver" is going to make jollof rice, simple as that. And we are going to have non-biased judges decide who makes the best jollof.

     All funds will go to making jollof rice and season 2 of "Nneka the Uber Driver." ("Nneka The Uber Driver" is a comedy web-series in its second season about a young Nigerian-American woman with a Harvard degree who ubers for living. Millennium dreams on a millennium budget.... And her mom ain't havin' that.

     Here's a link to the Kickstarter page to participate! We want you to come to the party too.

    Bastardizing Shakespeare - You Mad? /  by *nickels*

    It's the age of carefully curated posturing. Gut reactions are hard to come by. But mention Shakespeare and two camps immediately emerge: #TeamHolyGrail and #TeamWhatTheF*ck. You either love him or hate him. If you love for him, no doubt you had a great teacher who taught you how to enjoy the juiciness of his language. If you hate him, you probably couldn't get past the pomposity of #TeamHolyGrail and their uppity/non-approachable attitude. As a lover of language and a student of theater, I should fall into the first camp. For the most part I do. 

    But let's keep it all the way 100. Shakespeare was a badass and he probably hated all BS and any holier-than-thou tomfoolery. His characters critique the elite while uplifting the sensibility of the working class. Still, he was an artist and he was likely very sensitive about his sh*t. Yes, even us badasses  thirst for the approval of our peers and the tastemakers of our day. 

    Luckily, during his time, he got the co-sign from the tastemakers of his time. To the point where in 2017, if an actor "incorrectly" stresses a line of his text, they'll be met with the shadiest of side-eyes.

    I call shade. Shakespeare invented new words. Just. Because. He. Felt. Like. It. And with that example, you know what I say? When learning Shakespeare, bastardize it.

    Definition: Bastardize - to change by making alterations. (Admittedly, I'm playing it fast and loose with this definition.) If he made new words, take those words and play with them. Find fluidity within form. The dictionary must reflect the culture it catalogs and so you too can catalog your culture, your reality. When attempting to discover meaning in the text, let the imagery connect to *your* truth. 

    My first experiment in this bastardization will be Hamlet. I'm gonna have some FFFFUUUUHHHHNNNN henny!
    Bastardize it henny!

    Marriage Equality - The Irrelavance/Irony of Uncle Clarence Thomas Ruckus /  by *nickels*

    Clarence Thomas embraces slavery in opposition to marriage equality and I'm immediately reminded of Uncle Ruckus from The Boondocks. Although in Thomas's defense.... Uncle Ruckus would have never taken the job of Supreme Court Justice in the first place.

    Ruckus (L), Thomas (R). Wait, Thomas (L), Ruckus (R). Wait....

    Also, Clarence Thomas.... you don't understand the definition. Let me help you out.

    DIGNITY: the state of quality of being worthy of honor or respect.

    Uncle Ruckus Thomas, do you remember the 3/5 compromise? You know, the law that states that slaves are LESS THAN A WHOLE HUMAN? Slaves, prisoners in interment camps, those denied benefits my hold themselves with dignity but to given that by the state as a right is a completely different issue. You leaped from punchline to becoming completely irrelevant (for now anyway).

    For those who need help with Thomas' dignified slavery times, here's a (satirical) clip. Picture, America, Slavery, 1825....



     The Joys of Slavery In America