Ode to Oprah

Oprah.

I am completely fascinated with, in total awe of, and humbly enamored by everything that is Oprah Winfrey.

I cried during each of the last 5 episodes leading up to the show finale. Yes, I shed tears over an afternoon talk show host's retirement bonanza. And I am not even the least bit embarrassed.

Because ... I'm a fan.

No. I am not that fan who has written Oprah countless letters over the span of 25 years (because, duuuh, I'm only 24). I've never sent her an email or requested a written transcript of her show (tell me they're not still wasting paper on those things). Never have I bargained my soul to the Harpo gods in exchange for seats to a taping. I, unfortunately, cannot even boast by saying I've seen every Oprah episode.

Although I did Tweet her once.

My behavior may fall short of fanatical when it comes to the Big O, however, I assure you that my adoration and respect for her is as deeply rooted as that tree in Mississippi under which Ms. Winfrey was conceived.

Oprah - a perfectly and beautifully concocted phenomenon.

Beyond her ability to connect with people is her ability to make you examine your own imperfections. Through the years, her colorful guests have been like a catalogue of songs; millions of melodies and lyrics telling uniquely different - but yet relatable - stories.

I always find it quite curious when a person has an "Oprah? She's no big deal" kind of attitude.

When someone acts aloof about Oprah, I find myself plunging into a never-ending diatribe about her hundreds of philanthropic endeavors and how I would've never read Eckhart Tolle’s “A New Earth” without her Book Club and about how incredibly moved I was by the "You Get A Car! You Get A Car!" episode which aired the day before my birthday and about how her sophistication inspired me to choose her as the woman I admired most in the media when I competed for Georgia's Junior Miss in high school...

One hour at a time, Oprah reminded us to maximize our full potentials, she reinforced the importance of finding strength amidst pain, and she convinced men across the world to trade excess weight for longer penises. Mmmm...SCORE!

She shared with us her less than perfect past - her struggle with weight, broken home and childhood - and proved how yesteryear’s shame is merely a stepping stone to tomorrow's triumphs.

The human spirit, Oprah showed us, is as complicated as quantum physics yet as simple as saying, "I need you."

Many attribute her success to impeccable timing. "Right place, right time" gets some credit; her intrinsic giftedness to excel fueled by God's graces gets the rest.

I relish in the beauty that one of my most precious role models is a self-made billionaire whose ethnic background and gender are identical to mine. I am even prouder that those same physical characteristics with which I closely identify weren't deal breakers but instead were history makers.

Oprah ... everything she is is everything she wasn't supposed to be.

So I thank you, Oprah, for fulfilling your life's purpose and for picking up some of the slack for the rest of us, too.

I Just Don't Clique

I've always felt that groups were dangerous.

As an elementary school kid, I was certainly always a part of a "clique" of friends. These cliques were of the utmost importance because to be accepted meant that your existence was relevant. Donning the freshest (90's) names like "Sister Posse 2000," every pig-tailed, corn-rowed, balloon suit, British Knight wearing little girl wanted to join our crew. But we were brutally selective about who we let in. Carry a cuter lunch box, have longer hair, or get more attention from the teacher on a particular day...then your odds for acceptance, at least for some time period, were slim. And when the leaders of the vicious pack (with humility and shame, I hereby admit my role as one of those leaders) relinquished some of their vanity, other desperate little innocents earned their passage into our screwed up sorority of insecure, prepubescent brats.

Then I became a middle schooler. And that's where the story of my days as a cliquester ends. Retrospectively, I attribute my journey into "solodom" to many milestones - the sudden death of my Daddy, feeling nerdy because of my academic excellence, the craters and hills also known as the acne on my forehead, my pot belly and size 8 shoe as a 12 year old, second child syndrome...should I continue?

I didn't think so.

Was I maturing into my Virgo tendencies of shying away from crowds, or was I blessed with Divine wisdom beyond my scope of adolescent comprehension? I like to think a little of the former and a lot of the latter ;-) Whatever the case, I began looking at cliques of friends as battle grounds for inevitable destruction. For the most part, I was right.

The three things I dislike most about friend cliques are the inability to maintain privacy, disingenuousness amongst its members, and the sacrifice of individuality.

Let's be real - our human nature tells us to run our mouths by any means necessary. If something is told to us - especially in confidentiality - we feel it our civic duty to spread the word to others. In cliques, I find it extremely unbecoming that Friend 1 knows every detail about Friend 4 just because Friends 2 and 3 can't keep their mouths shut. If Friend 4 didn't directly inform Friend 1 of the matters, then Friend 4 prooobably didn't want Friend 1 in their business.

Then there's good ol' fashioned back stabbing. Back stabbing between friends happens within and outside of cliques, but somehow the cut seems much deeper when those IN your "circle" are working together against you. It defeats the purpose when your support group doubles as your group of harshest critics.

The biggest friend clique flaw is the omnipresent phenomenon of "group think." Losing your identity - your goals, morals, and standards - to satisfy the group's interests and agendas is a problem. Conforming rather than risk taking is cowardly. Stifling your potential to accommodate your friends' egos deprives you of your life's true purpose.

As little girls, the group got jealous if you had a better Barbie house; as adults, they're envious of your big brick house. The group think of grade school yesteryear is the same enabling group think of adulthood - an impediment causing full grown people to seek validation from barely qualified peers.

I recognize that some girls and women enjoy idealistic, "Sex And The City," "Waiting to Exhale" group friendships where like-minded counterparts uplift, praise, and genuinely support one another. Dating back to elementary and as recently as adulthood, that has yet to be my experience.

So I have fully graduated from feeling the need to be a part of a clique of friends.

I have some very dear, precious friends in my life. And while several of my friends loosely associate with one another, I value the privacy that I have with each of them on a personal level.

And if those friends ever feel compelled to share my secrets, at least they share them with people I don't have to see or talk to every day :-)

Beat That Meat!

Last September, I committed to getting back my fantasy bod, and I felt like my workout and eating routines were really paying off in December. Then, recently, I reached a crossroads.

Actually, it was more like a plateau.

Like Fergie, "I be working on my fitness," and I put a lot of thought into finding new challenges for my body --- interval and resistance training and lots of cardio. I find successful results in the gym, so I decided my workouts couldn't be the culprit.

I turned my focus to my diet.

I am NOT a dietician, but I eat relatively healthy. Lots of spinach, lean meats, fish, apples, prunes (I love prunes). 4 Subways are within a 1.5 mile radius of my house, so I "Eat Fresh, For Less" a LOT. Cannot lie, though...I allow myself several cheat sweets throughout the week but always in moderation. And definitely nothing my 60 minute cardio workouts can't keep under control.

Then a friend suggested I give up red meat. I don't eat red meat that often, so that sacrifice was a non-factor to me. But I am Black and from the south, so you know what that means - I eat a helluva lot of chicken.

Could chicken be the culprit!?! Yikes!

For 10 days at the beginning of March, I gave up meat. But I didn't notice a change in my weight, shape, or in how I felt. So I said, "Bring on the grilled chicken dish, with a side salad, sprinkled with low fat bacon bits!"

Then just like in the movies when a fairy godmother senses pending destruction, the Omnivore Gods were rallied and sent to stage an intervention in my life.

Within 5 days, I was bombarded with the following:

• www.meetyourmeat.com (recommended by my linesister, Crystal)
• Oprah's 7 Day Vegan Challenge
• Food, Inc. (foodincmovie.com)
• Erin Lanahan Method YouTube Vlog about Demystifying Workout and Eating Myths

Meetyourmeat.com graphically reveals the inhumane and shockingly unsanitary living conditions endured by pigs, chickens, and cows before they make it to our dinner plates.

Oprah's Vegan Challenge follows her staff as they give up all things animal for a week. Several Oprah staffers lost some major LBs doing this!

The Food, Inc. documentary exposes how profit - not consumer health - dictates most of the food and farming industry practices.

And my colleague and fitness guru, Erin Lanahan's vlog explains how eating meat can be counterproductive to fitness goals as your body's fat cells store toxins and hormones found in much of the meat we consume.

Yes. I was extremely overwhelmed at the amount of food information that was thrown at me in such a short time period, but I knew there was some lesson to be learned. I couldn't ignore the signs.

I'm not going to spoil it for you because I really, really want you to watch the links I provided.

However, I will say this. In my effort to become more educated about my diet habits, I have been shocked into an entirely new way of thinking about my food choices.

I am not okay with knowing that chickens are genetically redesigned to have bigger breasts just because white meat is the consumer's favorite part. It bothers me that pigs have intelligence levels comparable to that of 3 year old children, yet instead of letting them have some level of dignity, many farmers use bulldozers to move pigs around their property.

It's troubling to know that, thousands of meat packing workers are often underpaid, mistreated and sometimes, are illegal to work in the US. The last thing I want to do is eat meat - in all its bacteria-filled glory- that was packaged at a plant where workers could care less about the job they're doing.

This time around, I've given up meaty "goodness," not for weight reasons but for health reasons.

I'm on Day 7 of meat abstinence.

Don't mistake this post for my "holier than thou," meat-is-for-losers message. That's not my intention. I've been enlightened a bit about what exactly it means to my body to eat meat, so I'm embarking on a new journey-- one which I suspect will be full of relapses as temptation and old habits rear their ugly heads. Meat and I have been best buds for 20 plus years now, so anything could happen ;-)

But just like we're educated on the dangers of smoking or of alcohol consumption, such should be the case for meat consumption.

We owe it to ourselves know.

LOVE

Love.

Romantic love.

When I was younger, I had a very practical view of love. To me, love simply was marriage and everything that came with it. Husband and wife. Kids and family vacations. Church and family gatherings. I thought love was just the production of husband, wife, and family.

Experience and maturity have taught me differently, and every day, I am learning the meaning of what romantic love and what being in love really is.

It's having unbridled, uninhibited fun. Laughing at everything or at nothing at all. It's finding the excitement in the mundane. It's intertwining toes in your sleep.

It's passing gas on each other and being utterly disgusted and reluctantly amused at the same time. It's critiquing without judging, nurturing without enabling.

Being in love...

It's caring nothing about what others think about them. It's being proud of their imperfections and thankful they accept yours. It really is taking long walks in the park because it's those times when you can't get in the car and leave that you learn how to tolerate the intolerable.

It's him rubbing your belly when you're cramping. Stroking his ego when his pride is hurt.

Love.

It's being excited about each other's ideas and encouraging them to spare no expense in following their dreams. Love is pushing them past the precipice and into their own gold mine. Love is sharing the riches.

It's being one. It's being individuals. Being equals.

Love is enjoying one dollar microwave dinners together with the same enthusiasm you have when you dine out lavishly. Love is not being afraid to say, "we can't afford to dine out lavishly."

Love is having a unique language of inaudibles spoken fluently by only the two of you. It's doing for them what you wouldn't do for anyone else ... including yourself.

It's hurting and healing. Experimenting and trusting. Respecting and depending. Revealing. Sharing. Sacrificing.

It's finding them desirable even when they leave their socks on when you make love.

Living in it, embracing it, and becoming better because of it.

LOVE

Coyote: Not So Ugly After All

Something is really resonating with me right now. That something, as embarrassed as I am to say, is the movie, "Coyote Ugly."



I am not a movie buff which is my disclaimer for not having ever seen this 10 year old, BEYOND cheesy, pop culture catastrophe after which hundreds of bars, truck stops, and even reality shows have patterned themselves. And just in case you are as out of the loop as I, the movie Coyote Ugly is about a small town girl named Violet who moves to the big city to pursue her career in singing and in song writing. Extremely cliche,' right? And even more cliche' is that Violet gets a job as a BAR TENDER to support herself as she chases her dream of breaking into the music industry. Never heard that one before, right? Riiiiiiiiight.



Folks, stay with me.



Violet's host of obstacles seems endless. Shopping her demo around to countless agencies and labels gets Violet, as a newbie, COUNTLESS rejections. Initially, she's conflicted about compromising her values to become a part of the sleaziness that is the bar tending style of the "coyotes." Violet finds herself opting to work at the bar instead of taking advantage of opportunities to display her talents at open mic nights, and when she does have chances to display her singing/song writing abilities, she finds herself succumbing to stage fright.



What exactly, you wonder, resonated with me so much that I felt compelled to blog about what some would argue is the worst movie released that year?



Well, Violet's story is every body's story no matter the profession, no matter the plight. We all can relate to beginning a new journey, seeking help from any and everyone, and being told, "no." And how many times has each of us stared down the forked road and thought, "do I compromise, or do I stand my ground?" For me, those crossroads have appeared more times than I can recollect. And what about the struggle of doing what you need versus doing what you love? How many of us are faced with this challenge regularly? It's the "I really wanna be doing what I love" versus the "I really gotta survive and sustain" conflict. And finally, there's the stage fright. We all - performers and non performers, alike - probably can attest to getting that one opportunity for which we've been praying and then letting that 1% of self-doubt get the best of the situation and ruining it. Yeah, you've been there, too.



For all the aforementioned reasons, watching Coyote Ugly - of ALL movies - inspired me. Ironically, a movie that, on the surface, is about a handful of scantily clad, seductress bar tenders is really about the human spirit's desire to accomplish and to achieve beyond one's wildest dreams.



Stage fright, though, is the most detrimental of the common denominators. It is the stage fright that stands between where we are today and where we are supposed to be.



Good thing Violet overcame her stage fright within the 2 hour time slot allotted for Coyote Ugly's showing! Oh yeah. SPOILER ALERT: Violet ends up getting discovered and LeAnn Rimes is the first major artist to sing one her original works.



So I totally learned to not judge a movie by it's mediocre trailer or by the no-named talent attached to the project because you just never know how inspired you might be by its true message.

The Giant that WAS

Sooooo…they tell me that there’s cheating in college sports?!?! I had NO idea!!

Now, unless you’ve been SO tuned into that wild, exciting World Cup Soccer coverage, then you probably didn’t miss this HUGE sports headline. The NCAA has found the University of Southern California GUILTY of numerous violations because they knowingly allowed players to accept gifts – some in the form of money, some in the form of HOUSES – like the one that was given to Reggie Bush’s parents – from professional sports agents, promoters, and other people who had vested interests in the post college, professional careers of the then student athletes. A mouthful for me…a mess for USC!!! Because of Bush’s ineligibility, the sanctions thrown down at USC include vacating their football victories from December 2004-December 2005, losing 30 scholarships for the next couple football seasons, and the UNTHINKABLE – they MIGHT even lose their 2005 BCS Championship Title. Or could THIS be the unthinkable– Reggie Bush’s 2006 Heisman might be yanked.

So this sucks. It sucks for the USC recruits who signed their lives away to become Trojan men. Players and recruits who now won’t even be able to play in a bowl game for two years…oh yeah, did I mention that their post season play privilege was revoked, too???

But ultimately, you gotta commend the NCAA for taking on the giant that WAS USC and making an example out of them. It seems that USC – coaches, athletic director, players, and fans were all subscribing to this Hollywood ideal. They were the actors; college football was the movie. But the actors thought they were bigger than the actual film. They weren’t, and the NCAA said, “it’s a wrap.” It’s difficult, I’m sure, to play by all the rules when the competitive climate begs of you to “win, win, win!” But if you’re gonna break some rules, at least be discreet versus openly socializing with your financial backers as did Bush on USC’s campus with his own, personal investors. Pete Carroll and crew got sloppy and arrogant…so much to the point that the NCAA could no longer turn a blind eye.

Everyone knows life isn’t fair and that sometimes you DO have to bend the rules. But everyone also knows that you NEVER let your RIGHT hand know what the LEFT is doing and USC, with all its PAC-10 and national football dominance and glory for the past 10 years, let the ENTIRE world know what it was doing without a care or concern about any possible consequence.

So …it DOES rain in Southern California or at least it does on USC until they can emerge from this muddy mess they’ve made.

Don't Let Yourself Be Mad...It's Trivial!

"Put positive energy into the things that matter most; don't give negative energy to the things about which you care the least."
-ERD

My above quote is an affirmation - a mantra - that I am having to repeat to myself a lot these days. Here's the story.

Everyone moves to LA to pursue a "dream." You already know mine - to become a host/talk show extraordinaire. In pursuing that dream, everyone serves, bar tends, or does some other something in the restaurant business. It's inevitable. These days, I'm serving and bar tending at, what usually is, the ideal place to work.

For those of you who have never worked in a restaurant, working in one is similar to attending high school. You have your cool kids, your awkward, quirky kids, the smart, organized kids, the teachers' pets, and so on and so forth. And just like in high school, everyone is competing against everyone else, but the stakes in restaurant world are higher because ultimately, everyone in this world, is competing for money. And as we learned in high school or in Sunday school or, hell, some where along the way, money is, what...the root of all evil. Exactly.

The bosses at my job, generally, are cool. So cool, in fact, that the "cool" kids get to dictate how things in our little parallel Universe are run. And you remember what happened in high school when some groups of students were suddenly granted the privilege to determine what other students could and could not do? Well, I don't particularly remember either, but it probably wasn't good. In our restaurant world, the "cool" kids getting this privilege is never good. It's not good because, with everyone competing to make the most money in the shortest amount of time, a co-worker having the ability to dictate how and where your money will be made while also possessing the power to give him or herself the best opportunity to make the most money (by virtue of being a "cool" kid) in a restaurant, is a recipe (pun intended) for disaster. To put it briefly, I walked into work tonight on what was supposed to be a huge money night to find that one of the "cool" kids decided, "Hmmm...I'll give myself the best section in the entire restaurant. And to do this, I will take away Erica's section and give her what I was supposed to have because I don't want to wait on that shitty area, so Erica can have it." Hmph.

I was livid. Livid. LIVID. Then I took a step back and repeated my little mantra to myself: Put positive energy into the things that matter most; don't put negative energy into the things about which you care the least. Because I'm only human, it took a minute (or two or three) for me to internalize this and let go of the situation AS it was happening to me, but by letting it go, my night went smoothly, and I was blessed to, as we servers and bartenders like to say, make bank.

Making money - especially while living and pursuing entertainment in LA - is muy importante. So I'm not implying that I don't care about work. But at the end of the day, when I "clock out" and go home, I'm NOT here in LA to be a lifelong service industry employee. I'm here pursuing bigger-than-life dreams and goals. My mornings are filled with auditions, callbacks, and countless hours behind my laptop emailing my headshots, resumes' and reels to people for whom I want to work. My afternoons are filled with acting and hosting classes and 2 hour workouts so that I can maintain my "Hollywood" image. Yeah, my evenings may be spent serving and bar tending, but my late nights are spent praying and asking God for clarity to make the right decisions as I live this unpredictable life. To put it simply, having a not-so-good section at work, in the long run, is definitely something about which I could care less. Gotta put my positive energy where my heart is, and my heart is NOT into fighting with a "cool" kid for a good section of tables in a restaurant.

And besides, EVERYONE knows that the "cool" kids in high school actually were pretty "uncool" in the real world.