It’s no secret that Princess So Fabulous happens to be the greatest niece ever. It’s no secret that I love, love, love that little girl either. Sometimes I look at her and ask how it’s possible to love a child that much, a child that isn’t yours by birth. And how is it possible that a child who isn’t mine is soooo much like me? Scary,huh? Whateva.

A couple of months ago, we were at her house talking about books and writing. The Princess wanted to read part of one of my novels-in-progress so I found a suitable passage for her. How come that little chick was EDITING my work?? Seriously.

“Aunt Jackie, is she actually SAYING this part or is she just THINKING it? Well, if it’s just her THOUGHTS, should it be in italics? Is it supposed to be in quotation marks? Aunt Jackie, is this supposed to be a sound? Is that really what it sounds like? Aunt Jackie, I think you spelled his name two different ways in this chapter. Aunt Jackie….”

Cute huh? Ya’ll know she asked how much people earned for editing stories.

Anywho, the Princess is a very creative, artsy fartsy soul in her own right. She’s quite the artist. Her original artwork can be found covering refrigerators all along the East Coast and as far west as Missouri. She has quite the portfolio – from her own original abstract designs to capturing landscapes, Sponge Bob, and a variety of other images. She writes poetry also - I read one of her original compositions at my book release party last year. She also dabbles in writing short stories and “social commentary” as evidenced by her award-winning essay entitled, “If I were President for a Day” which included a mandatory parent-child hour every day.

So, my laptop and I were at her house this past weekend. Princess So Fabulous got a laptop for Christmas so there we were, two writers pounding out our stories while the rest of the world slept. Me on one end of the futon typing furiously, her on the other end mulling over what happens next. Now, when I’m at home, I tend to flit from one thing to the other…multitasking. Seriously. I’m working on a poem or writing a scene for a novel, checking email, flipping through a magazine, chatting with someone on google talk, etc.

Imagine my surprise when Princess So Fabulous did the same things. She was in the middle of writing a scene when she grabbed her “planner” (yep – a dayplanner) and jotted down her cousin’s phone number. She then grabbed a book and read a few pages, called her dad (he was out of town), drew a sketch of a dress, and then went right back to writing her book.

The Princess has started stories (books) in the past but she tends to leave whatever she’s working on wherever it is that she happens to be working on it. My sister-in-law is a cleaning fanatic so needless to say, many stories, poems, and art work/supplies have been tossed. When the Princess told me she was starting another book, we had “the talk” about being sure that she put her work away, that she always put it in the same place in her room so she could find it. It’s not a problem now that she has the laptop since she’s capturing it all in MS Word.

So the Princess calls me yesterday. She’s quite the avid reader (Chica was reading on a 8th grade level in 4th grade. I was beyond impressed) so she’d been back to the library for more books. Do you know what she checked out? Three books on writing:

- “So You Want to be a Writer: how to Write, Get Published and Maybe Even Make it Big”
- “The Market Guide for Young Writers: Where & How to Sell What You Write”
- “Young Author’s Guide to Publishers”

Wow. She has truly stepped it up. She was excited because these books were about how a kid could become a writer. She took a quiz from the first book, “What’s Your Genre?” and it says she has talent for observing her world and writing fiction and short stories. She says that’s her “primary genre” and that if I took the quiz, my “primary genre” would probably be “poetry”. She’s probably right.

I gave her a book for Christmas called “Little Divas”. I picked it primarily because one of the characters has the same name and it’s spelled the same way which is unusual. She finished reading the book and was telling me how the author did such a good job of describing things – what the characters looked like, what they were wearing, what they were doing. She says she’s going back into her book and do more of that.

One of the books talks about a place kids can send their story for review so she’s anxious to finish this story and send it in. We talked about what to do if she got ideas for another story or book while she’s trying to finish this first one. So she’s going to create a story portfolio for her ideas and a document to track possible character names she wants to use.. One of her reference books talked about the importance of “developing a writing routine” so she’s going to start writing early in the morning before her cousins wake up and maybe late at night…at least 15 minutes She says she’s going to get up early this morning, get a bottle of water, a bowl of fruit, open her curtains and spend 15 minutes writing. Where am I? Sitting on my sofa, curtains open, a bottle of water to my left, munching on pineapples and a bagel while blogging and adding more words to my first novel. Told ya’ll that was my girl.

Oh, one other thing we have in common – she’s got that “I know how the book starts and how I want it to end” thing like me too. It’s just the stuff in the middle that trips us up.

Make it stop. Please. Make it stop.

As the whole world knows by now, ATL’s #7 was in Richmond, VA last Thursday for a hearing related to his indictment on dog-fighting charges. Why, oh why oh why were people lined up downtown for BLOCKS starting as early as 9am when he wasn’t due in court until 3pm? OK, back it up for a minute. Why were they lined up anyway?? I’m not talking about the protestors. I’m not talking about all the folks jocking for one of the 300 seats available in the courtroom. I’m talking about people who took a day off work to stand outside in the frigging heat and humidity for H-O-U-R-S just to get a glimpse of him?? The court session started at 3pm; Vick strolled up to the courthouse about 5 minutes before show time so trust me, all they got was “a glimpse”.

Why is it that the local news kept interrupting perfectly sappy soap operas, and reruns of Ellen and Oprah every 20-30 minutes with “Breaking News Coverage of the Mich.ael Vi.ck saga”? What frigging breaking news? This is how it played out all afternoon…

First report: “Mich.ael Vi.ck made his appearance at 2:55pm. He entered the courthouse without acknowledging the crowd gathered outside. Let’s go to ‘Reba Reporter’ who was inside the courtroom. Reba…

“Thanks Mr-news-anschor. I was indeed inside the courtroom where I sat next to Vi.ck’s uncle. Mr. Uncle says that he is here to support his nephew. During the arraignment, Vi.ck looked around the courtroom several times, making eye contact with his mother, other family members. He didn’t smile, he just made eye contact. Back to you Mr-News-Anchor.” ‘Thank you ‘Reba Reporter’. There you have it folks. Mich.ael Vi.ck in court today under federal indictment on dog-fighting charges. He’s not smiling, his mood is somber. Stay tuned for breaking coverage.”

Second report: “In a strong voice, Mich.ael Vi.ck entered a plea of not guilty. The three others charged also entered pleas of not guilty. Stay tuned for more breaking coverage.”

Third report: “In a clear, strong voice Mich.ael Vi.ck entered a plea of not guilty. His lawyers have gathered outside the courthouse with Vi.ck’s mother. Let’s go to them live.”
Head Lawyer: “This is just the beginning. We caution everyone, including the media to wait until the trial before passing judgment. This is just the first step towards that trial. Mich.ael is inside completing some paperwork. I would like to read a statement from Mich.ael: ‘blah blah blah…not guilty…blah blah blah…apologize to my mother and the Fal.cons team and fans…blah blah blah…clear my good name…blah blah blah.’ At this time I’d like to introduce the entire legal team…him, him, him, him, oh and him and me.”

Reporter: “Mich.ael Vi.ck has entered a plea of not guilty. He vows to clear his name. Stay tuned for breaking coverage in the continuing saga of Mich.ael Vi.ck and allegations of dog fighting.”

Fourth report: “Mich.ael Vi.ck left the courthouse amid boos from protestors. He entered a plea of not guilty as did the other defendants in this case. Stay tuned for breaking coverage.”

OK…all evening long. U-G-H. What frigging breaking news? Dude was actually in court for what? 20-30 minutes? The rest of that time was spent filing paperwork, and trying to wait out the crowds. I’m sure you heard by now that the trial date has been set for November. Lawd! How much more of this will we have to deal with until then? If they were actually REPORTING something, I might be able to take it but this? *sigh*

Friday morning I was rushing around, trying to get packed so I didn’t listen to the news. I personally wanted a break from “the continuing saga”. I gassed up the car, popped in some CDs and drove to my hometown to pick up D before heading back north to BigBro#4’s house. I get to my mom’s, pick up our tiny, tiny weekly paper and what do I find? A pic of Mr. Vi.ck. No biggie – he’s a VA native, it’s a VA paper, right?

Oh but why is it that I find my tiny ass hometown might just be caught up in this mess? For real. It’s been alleged that Mr.Man may have actually been in my hometown…with his crew…and their animals…at a d.o.g.f.i.g.h.t.!!!! What? What?? When? Where? For real?? Oh and “Barney Fife” is M-A-D ‘bout that stuff, for real. It appears that, while our tiny little slice of country here on the backside of Southside VA may have been named in the indictments, the Feds ain’t called nobody, ain’t reached out to nobody, ain’t said “Boo!” to nobody. Apparently, the powers-that-be in my hometown heard about it the same way the rest of the world did – by reading the indictment. Oohhwee! “Barney Fife” is H-O-T. Why weren’t they told? Hmm…I’on know. Prolly cause ya’ll ain’t really ready for primetime. I mean, your star officer with the great arrest record DID just kill the best drug dog you had by leaving him in a hot a** squad car overnight right in the midst of a major drug roundup. I’m just saying.

Bottom line, I don’t know if he’s guilty or not. I am willing to wait until he’s actually on trial including the presentation of evidence and the refuting thereof. What I do know is regardless of how this plays out, his life will NEVER be the same. That may actually be a good thing in the long run. We’ll just have to wait and see.

What I also know is I miss the days when the biggest news story in VA was about the funds running out for displaced families in Battery Park (how long HAS it been?) or when the former-governor-once-US-presidential-candidate-now-city-mayor was taking money back from the schools, closing down the arts center project and giving the elderly fits about their real estate taxes. (I swear I think Dude is straight s-e-n-i-l-e. He gets the “sitchoazzdown” award…)

Ahhhh yes…that sweet Virginia Breeze.

** Today happens to be my Mom’s birthday. Happy Bday Mommy-Swammy!! You know how I created a silly theme song for Princess So Fabulous? Well, my Mom has one too and I’m gonna call her in a little while and sing it to her - loud & off-key. **

The other day as I was bumbling around in the house, I caught a news story about a photojournalist who was traveling the country working with homeless children. They were provided with disposable cameras and asked to go out and take pictures of the things they dream about…what they hope for, what they want to be, whatever speaks to them.

There were pictures of homes of course. But not huge, sprawling mansions. We’re talking simple homes, what used to be considered “starter homes” some years ago. Clothing – again, not designer labels but just clean clothes, ordinary clothes – clothes that would belong to them. There were other things like the little girl who took a picture of a teddy bear. Everyone thought it was because she wanted her own teddy bear, her own toys but the little girl said she wanted to work to save animals. And the young boy who took a picture of Lincoln’s statue because he said he wanted justice. It was a very touching segment, much too short but very touching nonetheless.

I was talking to someone recently about dreaming and this program came to mind. As much as I enjoyed the program, it left me sad in some ways. No child born in this country should have to dream of something as “ordinary” as a home with running water, with glass in the windows. No child should have to dream of eating regular meals – even if it’s fast food. Or of having clothes that fit, that are cleaned. They should be dreaming of becoming president, of starring on Broadway, of finding the cure for some disease, of being a fireman, a police officer, a nurse, a dancer.

This program reminded me how important it is to encourage others to dream. To dream big, in bright colors and then to seek those dreams out, to build them. It reminded me how important it is to be careful when handling someone else’s dream. In some cases, that’s all people have – their dreams. Not necessarily to become more fired up by someone else’s dream than they are but certainly to encourage them, to support them, to be their cheering section. I know that you have to be careful about those who you share your dreams with. People who don’t have enough strength or desire to create their own dream may not treat your dream with respect.

Sometimes we’re so busy trying to live, to make ends meet, to get through the day that we forget about dreaming. We forget to stretch ourselves, to hope for something bigger than we can see. We forget to give the little kid inside us a huge box of crayons, a smorgasbord of paints and let them color the mural of our imagination with the dream that lives inside our hearts, inside our spirits.

Today, I’m gonna spend a little time dreaming a dream. Just let my imagination take me wherever it wants to go. Just turn the canvas of my life into my personal dreamscape, even if only for a few minutes. Let myself get lost in the dreams that live inside my heart, let myself connect with the dreams that make my soul sing. Remind myself that as long as I’m breathing, it’s not too late to build a dream…or to simply dream a new dream.

Here’s to dreams and the reality of them in our lives. Dream a little dream!

“When I move, you move….just like that.” ~ Ludacris

I’m not a big rap fan but every now and then, a song hits me just right. So it was a few years ago when Luda dropped this song. And I got all caught up in the chorus – “When I move, you move…just like that.” I remembered journaling about it, and sharing those same thoughts with some folks. I was mulling over some things at the time, praying AND actually listening and that chorus is what God dropped in my spirit at the time: “When I move, you move…just like that.”. I thought to myself, “Naw. God? Gone rap on me? No way.” When my pastor used that same sermon to illustrate God speaking to us about two weeks later, I laughed so hard at how God brought it back around.

On my last birthday, I told a friend I was considering moving. At the time, I was speaking of a physical move. Not sure if I was going to live the Richmond area, or the state. I was (am?) ready for a move. Time to “trade up” as far as houses and neighborhoods are concerned. So I was mulling over moving as far north as maybe Philadelphia (though knowing me, I’d stop at the Maryland border), or as far south as Georgia. Then the job thing happened and I let that slide.

It’s on my mind again so, I’m trying to work it out logically, be somewhat strategic. After all, not change ain’t always growth and not all movement is progress. I’ve been driving through local neighborhoods that I like, checking out the houses, researching what houses are selling for in my neighborhood, what they’re renting for. One of my friends finds it hard to believe that I’ll drop in on a model home or open house considering that I don’t have a job at the moment. Um, do they KNOW I don’t have a job? Besides, I don’t have a “job” at the moment but a sistah always has a plan. At any rate, this physical move won’t happen for at least 6-12 months at the earliest unless G-O-D shows up & shows out once again. I realize that, whether I sell my house or rent it out, there’s some work that needs to be done. If that’s the case, I’d much rather be here to keep an eye on it than to be miles away. Another friend sends me job listings from the DC area with a note that says, “You can always stay at your brother’s Mon-Thursday and go home on the weekend or you can catch the commuter van from Richmond every day”. *sigh* I could. To either of those options. We’ll see. We might need to “see” sooner rather than later cause a funny thing happens with your bank account(s) when there’s no steady income…the balance only moves one way. *gulp*

Physical relocation isn’t the only “moving” I’m working on. I got sidetracked as far as some sideline business moves were concerned. Passed on a couple of editing jobs. Let a couple of writing opps slip through my fingers. Let some kind of mental block come between me and my next poetry collection. I’m chipping away at that right now. I know which poetry collection I want(ed) to be next but I got stuck for a minute…just a little emotional residue that I need to work through. If that doesn’t work, I do have another collection ready for public consumption – well, except for the layout and a darn cover. Another friend called me a couple of weeks ago with an idea for a non-fiction book that I’m working on. I sat down last week and looked at the material I have on hand for that particular book. It’s more than I thought. Big surprise right? Another project to work through. That makes the fourth piece of non-fiction in the mix right now.
AND I think I found my muse again – or should I say my muse has come back home renewed and ready to roll as evidenced by a few scenes that I hammered out this weekend for my first novel. This story is coming to me in individual scenes like pieces of a puzzle so then I’ll have to figure out how to connect them. It’s wild. BUT…it’s working and that’s what matters most. I found this really cool shareware novel writing software online. It lets you do a character chart (I actually cut/pasted one of my favorite charts into theirs), a storyboard, story notes, chapters, POV for each chapter/scene, tracks word count per chapter and per project. And if you put in your start date, anticipated finish date, and your intended word count, it will calculate the number of words you need to write daily to meet your goal. There’s also a feature that lets you search for commonly overused words (ex. Words ending in “-ly”) and you can add your own to the mix. Cool deal huh? And I’ve not had a problem with it on my laptop. So for those of you who’re sending me those threatening emails, calling me, or trying to stare me down in the middle of Target – chill! I’m working on it.

It appears to be raining words in my world. Yippee! Yep, the muse is back and I intend to ply him with really good music, rich conversation, and a few other things I’m too shy to mention here. *snicker*

There’s more MOVEMENT but um, I need to MOVE…not talk about MOVING so, I’m out. For now.

And if you happen to see Princess So Fabulous, DO NOT mention that her Aunt is thinking about moving. I am NOT ready for that inquistion.

You asked. Here it is…part two of that poem I posted last week. Enjoy! Oh, enjoy the music too…one of my all-time favorites.

mind strokes - pt. ii

he covers me
my hands roam over his skin
he becomes love’s braille under my fingertips
as i seek to memorize every ridge, every indentation
he gazes at me, seeing through to my soul
and i find myself shy
he pulls me closer, into a realm of tenderness
i’ve never known before
and i find myself oddly rooted to this spot,
connected to him in ways i never imagined
yet floating
as the brilliance of us outshines the sun
his eyes ask all the right questions,
my body supplying each and every answer
i sing new poetry into his ear
his name becomes my mantra

heaven only knows
and right now heaven ain’t sayin’
as we tease and please
each other’s ears
are we serious
or are we just playin’?
nervous laughs hide
anxious sighs
as we prick and pry
the contours of our conscious
shying away from
a truth only heaven would know
we wish for only a clue
maybe it’s within our rainbow
that appears only when
your words are near my heart
when
your words are near my soul
when
your words are near me right now
when
your words are so loving….
when your words love me
when my words love you
when I love…your words

thunder rolls overhead
a deep bass playing along the
‘what if’ melody in her mind
though she loves to dance
fear keeps her rooted to the spot
wanting….to want…it real
she remains…unsure
rain drenches the ground
and she muses aloud how good it would be
if this water could become truth serum
flowing between them
revealing truths they don’t know…
or are too shy to speak
and still…she wonders…if he wonders….
heaven only knows
and no matter how much pretty poetry
is birthed between them
right now….
heaven just ain’t talking
and so, she curls up near the window
letting the cool breeze and stray raindrops
cool her anxious brow
as she tells herself to stay in the moment
while dreaming of cool brown skin, deep chocolate dimples
flagging a smile that speaks what words cannot
she prays that
nothing gets lost in translation

the thunder she hears
is only the base line of his heart
its rhythm dances to the beat
of unconditional commitment
that soothes and massages clarity
his kisses are filled with truth serum
that allows trust to run barefoot
through a field of jasmine and lavender
as the “what if” melody smoothly
transitions to a harmony of surrender
soon shyness giggles with boldness
her windows embrace rays of sunshine
poetic dreams from her brow kiss reality
fantasies from her muse abuse passion
wonders from her mind become known
true, heaven only knows but so does she
as heaven is just beneath her feet
the moment he curls up next to her.

Copyright 2007 ~ Mentally Stimulated

“Somebody” out there is looking at this particular blog, hearing Beyonce and is ready to either write me off or host an intervention. Relax - I like the song AND it fits the topic. Now if I show up with a gift box of all her CDs/videos, THEN you can start the intervention. Anywho, intervention notwithstanding, I love the sentiment of this song.

You’ve heard the saying that “LOVE IS BLIND” before right? Do you believe it? I don’t. Love ain’t blind. For the record, it ain’t cripple or crazy either…no matter how much we twist ourselves and our emotions around some nonsense that we’ve labeled “Love”.

Love isn’t blind. It sees everything - with better than 20/20 vision. It just happens to see it through a filter that lets it weed out what’s truly important and what isn’t. On the surface, it’s easy to love someone when things are going smoothly; the real test comes when “life” shows up in any agitated form. You find out a lot about a person when life shifts a bit under their feet or yours.

Perfection in and of itself is an illusion. Who defines perfection? Is there some agency that sets the standards and does random quality checks to be sure everything is up to snuff? No? Exactly. It’s subjective, meaning you have to define it for yourself. Personally, I’ll take the one who, flaws and all, is perfect for me.

We’re all flawed in some way or another. It doesn’t mean we’re not capable of loving someone else, or that we ourselves aren’t capable or deserving of love. Don’t be so quick to say “LOVE IS BLIND”. Love isn’t about asking anyone to give up their common sense or turn a blind eye to behaviors or traits that fly in the face of what’s good for them. Too often we’re in such a rush to lay claim to Love that we turn a blind eye to things that should be automatic red flags for us. You need to know that is NOT Love. While Love does require compromise, you need to know that Love will not ask you to compromise yourself to that degree. You can call it “love” but trust and believe, LOVE - real, authentic LOVE - will not answer.

I hear people say “Love is Blind” in various scenarios – where the two people are of different races/ethnicities, maybe different religious beliefs, or maybe where their physical presences don’t seem to “match up” in someone else’s eyes. Or where one (or maybe both) people have some behaviors or traits that others see as questionable.

From a racial/ethnicity perspective, Love isn’t blind and you shouldn’t be either. I remember saying that, when I interact with people, I don’t see color. That’s not true – I “see” it, but I don’t let it define the interaction. NOT acknowledging something so important opens the door for issues. NOT acknowledging differences in things like race, ethnicity, religion, etc. negates a large part of who the other person is, a large part of what makes them the way they are. You’re tossing out a lifetime of history, culture and experiences by turning a “blind” eye to those things.

When I was younger and walking around mumbling about “Love is Blind”, it simply meant that I had no clue who I was or what I was worth and so, I dealt with a lot of unnecessary bs (is there such a thing as “necessary” bs?), settling for emotional crumbs trying not to see what was staring me in the face. I had to get my vision straight or continue letting myself be treated poorly…in the name of love.

That blurred vision caused me some emotional pain but, like Granny always said, “Just keep on living Baby, life will sho’ nuff teach you”. And it did. I found myself “stuck” in some “relationships” that, while emotionally painful to live through, proved to be great laboratories - a place to experiment, find out what worked, what didn’t, what hurt, what burned, what felt right. What I learned is that, every relationship has it’s ups and downs but Bullshyt? That’s completely optional.

So, for a man who gives good conversation, I’m blind to stuff like whether the cap is on or off the toothpaste or that the toilet seat is up. For a man who knows quiet on my part doesn’t mean something’s wrong with “us” but rather that some thing’s on my mind that I need to process…him standing in the door of the refrigerator “letting all the cold air out” doesn’t matter. A man who’ll let my Peabo Bryson CD’s rest among his prized collection. Who isn’t suprised when the CD player rotates between Peabo, Fred Hammond, Norah Jones, Creed, Dixie Chicks, and Jill Scott cause I’m ecletic like that. Who knows that, while the gravy isn’t “pretty”, it’s edible AND actually tastes good. The one who offers you jellybeans and a backrub after a hard day? Who doesn’t see all those lit candles as a sign that you’re either holding a seance or you’re a pyromaniac. Who has learned to sleep through me singing in the shower at 5am? When you can share space - physically and otherwise - with someone who sees all those little pieces of your personality (and sometimes all at once) and they’re still there -holding your hand, providing a hug or an ear? That’s what’s up.

When they see you clearly - flaws and all - and they don’t flinch? That’s when “Love is Blind”. I’d give up my “sight” to be able to relax into something like that. Real talk.

Next time you find yourself saying “Love is Blind”, take it deeper. You might need to adjust your vision too.

I heard this song a while back. A friend sent me a copy of Joss Stone’s latest CD (”Introducing Joss Stone”) right before it dropped. I love her voice. But then that’s just me. I was IMMEDIATELY drawn to “Bruised but not Broken”. Took me a minute but I realized it spoke to me because I was indeed BRUISED…had convinced myself that I was also BROKEN…but thankfully, that (being BROKEN) was a falsand thankfully NOT BROKEN. (Yes I did try to load a copy of it for you but it just didn’t want to cooperate. Sorry!)

I heard that song, listened to the lyrics and knew there was a poem…or two…or ten…waiting to be born. I was sitting here, turning the concept over in my mind, asking myself “what if XYZ”, “what if 123?”. Before I knew it, I was staring at the poem below. I’ll probably “voice” it at some point for one of my poetry groups. And so, here it is…Poem 1 - Bruised but not Broken. Enjoy…..

It’s a RED ALERT DAY in VA cause ya girl is truly feeling herself to-day. I could tell you how that came to be but um, then you’d know too much. *wink*

Just know that the sun is shining, my spirit is light, and the thought of what is yet to unfold this day (and the next and so on and so on) is giving me butterflies.

Could be that I realized that sometimes I straddle the fence too much and too often. Comfortable. Neutral. Not ruffling feathers. That’s what I told myself. In reality? I wasn’t moving. I was stuck. Actually, I wasn’t so much “stuck” as I was holding myself back. It goes back to yesterday’s post about Fear cross-dressing as procrastination and its careless whispers. Somebody had a mini-breakthrough huh? Yea me! And all it took was a mini-breakdown. And someone who cares to get in my face in a way that was undeniable at a time when I was open and ready for it.

Anyway, I’m heading out to shake up the city (it’s 9:15am…I’ll be back by 9:30am. LOL). I leave you with a couple of songs that I like. I’d drop a little Chrisette Michelle in your ear but I don’t have time to hunt for it. If you don’t have her CD “I AM” and you’re looking for some good music, you need to pick it up.

Note for YOU re: “neutral”…my use of that word is pure coincidence. Don’t let it go to your head. Someone once told me that taking that first step might get rid of the butterflies I was feeling but um, their constant presence might be a good thing….I’m just saying….it might be….

** If you’re not familiar with Erro - Eric Roberson - you need to check him out. And if he’s EVER in your neck of the words, you need to see him live. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed at all. **

Hi. My name is Jackie and I’m a master procrastinator. I’m so good at it, I make you think I’m making progress even though I’m standing still. It’s part of my MO. It’s a nasty habit that I’m trying to break – to get out of my own way – so that I’m living my life out loud, not just inside my head. I know you’ve all heard the Marianne Williamson quote that talks about how our greatest fear isn’t that we’re inadequate but rather that we are great beyond measure. That rings so true for me. Even deeper than that is the fear I have that, I’m going to come to the end of my life and realize that I didn’t live the life I was intended simply because I kept getting in my own way. Procrastinating. Hemming and hawing….

Procrastination is a sultry thief. I can’t tell you how many times it’s curled up next to me, bringing me its false warmth, seductively dropping careless whispers in my ear. If I’m not careful, procrastination will convince me that I’m simply resting. That I’m in “planning mode”, researching…analyzing, weighing the pros and cons. I’m not. And I know this. I am in hiding. Generally from the very things I say that I want.

I’ve come to realize that procrastination is a cross-dresser of sorts. It’s FEAR that likes to dress up as something else from time to time. But no matter how fashionably you dress it, it’s still FEAR.

I know that procrastination is a thief and a liar. It will steal your peace of mind, your joy, it will smother your dream if you’re not careful. It will convince you that the peripheral BS that you’re engaged in is enough to be considered serious work on building your dream. It’s not. Not even close. It’s fluff, pure and simple. Procrastination is a cheat – it can and will cheat you of your dreams. In doing so, it also cheats the rest of the world. When you procrastinate, you hold up the line – there are people who waiting for you to play the position you were designed to play so that they can then fall into position. When you hesitate, you hold up the line and you force people to play positions they may not be truly suited for. At the very worst, you forfeit your dream, your gifts and talents.

Procrastination is a “Beautiful liar” – it will convince you that you are not ready, that you need more time, that you need to do more research, that you need more money. It will snuggle up to you and whisper “sweet nothings” in your ear all day and all night. I remind myself that a “sweet” nothing is still NOTHING. Yes, Procrastination will try to convince you that you aren’t qualified.

God doesn’t call the qualified – He qualifies those He calls.

Whose voice are YOU going to trust – God…or a “beautiful liar”?