Lyrically Speaking-XIII

“Big, lovely honies, you rule the world… You ain’t ‘a big girl’; you just ‘a girl’… They jealous, so give ‘em more to hate… You workin’ with a lot, but you handle that weight…” -Ise Lyfe, “Thigh Bone”, Prince Cometh Because America is such a melting pot of ethnicities, beliefs, religions, and cultures, we have no definite ethnicity, belief, religion, or culture. Other cultures seem to have standards when it comes to beauty, but we tether back and forth between “definitions” of beauty, connected by a string that leads nowhere. One could travel around the world and collect portraits of beauty per country: brass rings to elongate the neck, feet bound to the tiniest size, red lipstick and powdered skin, alabaster skin never touched by the sun, bronzed tans and curvaceous bodies, dreadlocks and ebony skin… the list is never-ending. And we Americans stick out like a giraffe amongst horses in these countries for the mere fact that we look “different”. And by “different”, I mean confused and unsure of ourselves. “Make-up don’t make you who you wanna be… It’s just Maybelline…” –Future, “Before My Time (Back To The Future)”, SpitPersonality We don’t know what beauty is. Every new season, magazines and media tell us what colors, styles, hairdos, accessories, and the like are “in”. And many of us are so quick to dive right into the pool of conformity despite the fact that we don’t even like Ugg boots, neon jewelry or skinny jeans. The truth is that no matter how much we’d like to believe it, these material things don’t make us beautiful. We ARE beautiful: in action, word, and deed. That’s why the “ugliest” dudes get the “hottest” chicks and why “celebrities” who are usually spackled over with stereotypes get the “ugly” stamp when they journey forth without their masks: because at the end of the day, confidence and admirable attributes are what’s important and the more we cover up our true selves to create false images, the more our true selves will be shunned. And it’s not because our natural selves aren’t attractive. It’s because we intentionally tell people, “This is me. Love me for me,” then we turn around and strip ourselves of the height (heels), weight (type/size of clothing), shape (push-up bras, corsets, and butt pads), pigment (tans), flawlessness (foundation), smoothness (shaving, plucking, waxing), length and texture (relaxers, texturizers, extensions, wigs), color (contacts, lipstick, mascara, blush), and other forms of illusions (nails, body spray, muscle shirts, slimming pants) and expect to be accepted after such a quick, yet drastic transformation. Remember that episode of “The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air” where Will (Will Smith) and his date Kathleen (Tisha Campbell-Martin) were trapped in the basement during an earthquake? By the end of the night, Kathleen had removed her hair, snapped off her nails, and put her eye color in her purse. A dazed Will had sat with her weave disheveled upon his head, singing: “I’m stuck in a basement, sitting on a tricycle, girl getting on my nerves… I’m going outta my mind. I thought she was fine. Don’t know if her body is hers…” Nobody appreciates being lied to… Though we have these things to “enhance” ourselves, one should not forget just that: they are to highlight, not mask, what’s already there. A tree is just as beautiful bare as it is bedecked in lights and ornaments. Some would say it’s more majestic in the forest than beside the fireplace. We should think of ourselves as more radiant without the decorations. Maybe then we would stop striving to reach a bar of beauty that has not even been set. Maybe then the American standard of beauty would be the fact that we are so magnificently diverse instead of a quest to be dolls that companies can dress up and accessorize. Our spectrum of shades, shapes, and sizes should be celebrated; not cellophaned and repackaged to be sold back to us. We should proudly exhibit what we see unclothed and unmasked even while robed. No greater spectacle exists than beauty as nature intended… ***Below, find several quotes that speak on beauty in unique ways. Though they didn’t make it into the actual article, I would like you to think about the singular and collective message that they emit. I encourage you to seek quotes, poems, songs, and images that exhibit beauty in truth and complexity… “My only desire is that this beautiful sister find time to remind herself of just how fine… she is… just as… she is… even in the aftermath of birthing a few kids…” -13 of Nazareth, “Optionz”, Lovelutionary: Th Xprntl Gdspl “The images of womanhood that cover the silver screen carry her one step closer to depression one stereotype at a time in intervals of five minutes, so every five minutes she’s found in front of the mirror only to be reminded of areas on her body that need improvement. Says that her thighs are ‘too big’… Claims that her eyes are ‘too small’… Says that she’ll need to be in the gym all night, everyday for the rest of her life just to make sure that her waist looks right before she’s on her deathbed… And I tell her that I love her just the way that she is… but, she don’t care what I say or what the rest have said… Refusing to believe that she already carries with her the beauty of a sunrise… Says that she hates to see the sun rise because the sunlight exposes all of her faults… and I’m starting to believe that it might be my fault…” –Rudy Francisco, “Untitled”, University Avenue “I’m in love with your girly traits… I’m in with your curves, your face, your walk, your talk, your grace…” –Lyrical the Lyricist, “Never Blinked”, Traditional American Poetry “Night queen of my night dreams and the sky is your crown. Your smile is my favorite sonnet and your kiss… your kiss tastes like it got angel on it… You… The light from your eyes so precise like you could slice through a laser beam, yet it’s light in your eyes like you’ve seen an angel’s dream… You […] And the air here is perfect… as you are in this moment… Perfect… You are perfect as you are… Natural star… You are what grown men cry about… and what poet’s write about… Sleeping beauty… Dreaming angel… Sleep in beauty… Dream in angel… You…” – Komplex, “Stardust”, “Grown Folks Bizness ***Lyrically Speaking-XIII Written by: Ccep J. Dew, West Coast Editor as published in eXcape the matriX magazine www.eXcapethematriX.com

Lyrically Speaking-XII (One Year Anniversary)

“If I stay right here, I’ll die inside… Ran out of tears… I can barely get by… It’s fair to say that we tried… You know I wanna stay… If I do, I’ll die…" - Floetry, "I'll Die", Flo'Ology I will never understand complacency and I don’t want to. I cannot for the life of me comprehend how people can stay stagnant… and complain about a lack of upward mobility. Opportunities are out there, but one must be willing to work hard to reach expectations, and then go even harder to surpass them. Call me a perfectionist, an elitist, anal, or what have you, but I cannot and will not settle for “status quo”. All my life I have recognized standards and surpassed them; not because I tried to, but because I naturally tend to think and create outside of the box. A group of people can view a document and find it flawless, but my eyes automatically zoom in to errors in spelling, grammar, punctuation, and usage. It doesn’t mean I’m perfect; nor do I eXpect others to be. I make mistakes at times, but where others find editing tedious work, I find it enjoyable to polish another’s masterpiece. I figure, why not use my nerdy talent to help others? Why not embrace being an editor? My goal for 2010 is to get my company officially registered. Wise people always say, “Speak it into eXistence and watch God work,” and, boy, weren’t they telling the truth! I have so many projects already lined up for the coming years. It amazes me that people appreciate a quality in me that others find annoying and are willing to place their work… their art… their life into my hands. So much so, that I reached out to a good friend of mine and asked him why he trusts me with his work. I’m a firm believer that “anointing recognizes anointing” and that is why I shouldn’t have been surprised by his response. If we are pure and genuine in what we are about, people will see that and do what they can to support our dreams; even when they don’t know eXactly what that dream is. So, 2010 is quickly approaching, more and more people are reaching out to me or referring others to me for counseling, mentoring, brainstorming, or some sort of editorial service, and it makes me wonder: how, in this day and age where we have so many opportunities as artists to network with one another and collaborate on making our art the best, can anyone dare to utter the words “starving artist” from their lips? “We are who we choose to be… I’m responsible for me…” Whenever I hear someone refer to themselves or others as “starving artists” I generally purse my lips, shake my head, and/or roll my eyes in contempt. I know that as an artist, I should sympathize with the plight of my fellow creators and I do… to a certain eXtent. But, I will not under any circumstance enable any individual to use a phrase as a crutch. Understand that I know it’s tough being an underground artist. People don’t appreciate the healing we create, pay our worth, support our endeavors, or encourage us nearly as much as they should. But, even so, there are ample opportunities out there to expand one’s gifts and exhibit one’s work. It could be as simple as signing up to perform at an open mic and having a promoter ask you to come back to feature one night… Searching Craigslist and other internet sites for jobs and internships that display your talent (that’s how I went from Intern to Editor with eXcape the matriX magazine)… Displaying your art at local galleries or community events… Anything that helps you to make a name for yourself and get out there to the masses. Everyday, an artist should be open to an eXperience that benefits the art being created. It’s not enough to send a demo CD with 3 tracks on it to Jay-Z if you want to be a rapper. It’s not enough to write poetry and never step to the mic or memorize your pieces if you want to be a spoken word artist. It’s not enough to only post your images on MySpace and want to have your own gallery eXhibit. Where is your portfolio or catalogue? Can you spit a poem or 16 bars right now? Do you have business cards? Have you chosen a name to be recognized by? Do you know what the underlying message of your art relays? Be prepared for these questions and the like. The world will surprise you when they find out you are an artist. They want an eXample of your work, then and there. Imagine that you are at a Starbucks and as you turn with your Vanilla Chai in your hand, you see Kevin Liles (or Saul Williams or Nikki Giovanni or Diddy or whoever most inspires you and would help to make your dreams a reality) walk into the store. You walk up to him or her and say, “My name is ____ and I ____. You truly inspire me and I’m so humbled to meet you.” He or she says, “Oh, really?” with a grin. “Let me hear something right now.” And you stand there with nothing to say. No poem memorized. No 16 bars. No monologue. So, he or she says, “Well, do you have a business card or an online portfolio? Perhaps a link to online videos so I can check you out?” You pat your pockets knowing full well you don’t have business cards or anything online, watch as he or she shakes your hand and wishes you luck, then goes to order his or her drink. And you stand there before hanging your head, leaving the store, and calling up all your friends to tell them how big name people are funny acting and offer no support for “starving artists”… You have to put time and effort into your craft. You have to believe that what you have to say through your work is important to the world and you must be willing to sweat, bleed, and put in long hours to become successful. When someone sees you in a café jotting down notes and asks if you’re a writer, you should be able to pull out a business card and exchange information. Think that business cards are only for people who wear suits 9 to 5? I guarantee you that that napkin you wrote your number and email on will probably be used to wipe up some barbeque sauce then tossed into the trash can. Is that what you think of your goals and aspirations? Something that could easily be mistaken for trash? Or something that clearly exhibits not only your gifts, but your drive and determination? Don’t stay stagnant. Don’t be complacent. Don’t deem yourself a “starving artist”. Get up off your ass and make things happen or become one of those shoulda-coulda-wouldas… “What’s the use of living here if I don’t feel alive? Denied mistakes… So much I’ve done… So much to cry… I cry…”

***Lyrically Speaking-XII Written by: Ccep J. Dew, West Coast Editor as published in eXcape the matriX magazine www.eXcapethematriX.com

Lyrically Speaking-XI

“If I could, I would sample your smile… And then I would let my heart beat through the baseline and we would create the greatest love song of all time whenever we stand next to each other… Love, I was the only one made for you… and you… you can be ‘At Last’ by Etta James… me… I’ll be ‘Ooh Child’ when you’re in pain… or you can be candy coated drops of rain even though ‘It Never Rains In Southern California’… and together… me and you… we can be music…” -Rudy Francisco, “Music”, University Ave I have not yet found a single word that describes the relationship that I have with music. Thinking about music reminds me of a Jimmy Cozier song (remember that guy?): “Sometimes I love her… sometimes I love her not… But, I ain’t letting her go… She’s all I got…” As an artist, a woman, and a conscious creature, I cherish the invaluable connection that one can have with a particular song, album, or artist. I bet as some of you were reading the intro stanza, you briefly reminisced about past moments where each song played a role in creating the soundtrack to your life. I think that’s why I get so annoyed beyond belief (and verbal in my disdain) when I turn on the radio and hear track after track of nothingness laid over a “tight beat”. Music used to be about self-expression, sharing information, educating the masses, and creating classic hits that automatically trigger your mind to go back 30 years to the first time you heard it just by hearing the first 5 notes of the melody. Sadly, it’s not like that anymore. A dope poet by the name of Ise Lyfe recently said something at a show that has stuck with me: “We are the space between the ancestors and God… fill it up…” He also talked about how the remedial, repetitive “dance songs” that are infecting our airwaves will be the classics of this time, so basically what we hear on the radio is the legacy of music that we are allowing to be created for our children and our children’s children. How does that make you feel? Think about that: what we are currently hearing on the radio will be the oldies or classics of this time… When I think of “classics” I think of Luther, Patti, Tina, Gerald, and the late, great Michael Jackson. MJ’s music has been weaved into the fabric of the world for decades and years from now, when his music becomes far removed like the jazz, blues, and bee-bop that preceded funk soul, r&b, rap, and hip-hop, what will they play on our oldies stations? “I’m boyfriend #2…”(?) “You’re turning me on… You’re turning me off…”(?) “Do the stanky leg… Do the booty do…”(?) “You’re a jerk… I know…”(?) And my favorite (and by “favorite” I mean, “I still can’t believe Debra Lee let this performance air on the BET Awards/Michael Jackson Tribute Show”: “I wish I could fuck every girl in the world…”(?) These may not be the only songs on the radio at this time, but these are the “hits” being made mostly by one-hit wonder makers, aside from Lil Wayne’s delusional song that uses “love” in place of “fuck” on the radio. And we can’t just count theses artists out because they will probably never make another song again. Though the group that made the song disappeared from the face of music and media, “My Boo” will always be one of my favorite “old-school” jams. I am all for freedom of speech and am not a huge supporter of censorship, but I wonder at what point did we stop supporting edutainment and begin accepting and encouraging what some have deemed “new-age coonery?” When did we stop protecting music the way that we clutch poetry so tightly to our chests? When I turn on the radio, it really causes my spirit to ache because music and specifically the words that are contained within a song have always been a basic necessity in my life. Now, you may think that “necessity” isn’t the correct word to use here, but it is. Even when I’m separated from my iPod, I sing or recite lyrics. Melodies breathe through me and words… well, as Mr. Francisco says: “The right words at the right time can make Paul Bunyan’s ax look weak…” There is a power in words that many great minds understand. That is why a true writer may sit for hours, for days if necessary, staring at a screen or a piece of paper, stressing beyond belief because the right word just cannot be found. Others precariously use words as if they’ve never had a proper English class or simply don’t understand that what we say (or write) could be misinterpreted and it is our responsibility to make ourselves as clear as possible. We underestimate and misuse terms like “I love you” when we mean “I kind of like you a little” or “You’re cool to keep around so long as it benefits me” or “I just want to see you naked.” We suck it up and say “It’s cool” when we could be honest and say, “That is so not cool… I’m so disappointed in you” or “Expletive! Expletive! Expletive, you expletive!” In my interview with Beny Blaq, he states that people perceive him as arrogant basically because he doesn’t interact with them as much as they would prefer. From his perspective, he’s an observant person who listens more than he talks. But, this world has become so fast-paced that when someone takes the time to think before responding to the many methods of instant communication, the other party instantly grows impatient. This new world of social networking sites with live streams, text messages, emails, and instant messages has made people impatient and irrational. We have become so accustomed to getting a person’s attention or response at the exact moment we request it, that any rational person (or person who doesn’t want to talk to you right now) is going to ignore you and may even end the friendship. And so much can be misinterpreted with the way that we “speak” to each other using these methods of quick-munication. It seems like every word has its own acronym now from “lol” to “ttyl” to “smh”. It makes me long for the days when we would carve out a little corner in our days to pick up the phone, tap ten keys, and wait for someone on the other line to greet us joyously. We don’t get to hear people’s voices anymore. And the voices that we do hear on the radio and on the television aren’t doing anything to educate or advance us as an individual, a community, or a people. That’s why I love soulful, classy music… poetry… and spoken word… There’s no rush… no slip-ups… no preconceived notions or assumptions… Just a spectrum of letters… and melodies… “And when my friends ask if you’re my girlfriend… I’ll say, ‘No… she… she is my musician… and me…I guess you could say… I’m her favorite song…”

***Lyrically Speaking-XI Written by: Ccep J. Dew, West Coast Editor as published in eXcape the matriX magazine www.eXcapethematriX.com

Lyrically Speaking-X

“Turn the lights out… this shit’s way too fucking bright… why not poke my eyes out… if you wanna mess with my eyesight?… just let me get my head right… where the hell am I?... who are you?... what'd we do… last night?...” –Britney Spears, “Blur”, Circus For the past couple of weeks, I have attempted to write this 10th edition of “Lyrically Speaking”. My cup runneth over with lyrics—as the quotes painted on my home-office’s walls display—but none of them seemed to be worth discussing. I wasn’t inspired. Twice, I sat down and scribbled out bullshit about clever minds and coincidences and something else that is not even worth remembering. I knew what I had written lacked substance and I was embarrassed to submit it; so, I didn’t. Instead, I secretly grew more and more aware that this could be the first month that I had nothing lyrically to speak about. Then, I bought Britney Spears’ newest album. Before you begin to go down the list of drama surrounding the starlet, I urge you to give the album a try. A few songs, for me, are definite misses, but some like “If You Seek Amy”—which a friend’s hubby pointed out sounds awfully close to a two-word expletive phrase—are simply intoxicating whether we want to admit it or not. I’ve been listening to “Blur” in a trance-like repetition for the last two days. Slowly, I’m leaning into “Unusual You”, but something about “Blur” just makes me want to dance. Aside from random Hip-Hop classes, I haven’t really danced since I choreographer and performed to John Legend’s “So High” at my sister’s wedding 4 years ago. I haven’t had much time to dance lately or do any of the things that kept me from becoming a “grown up”. My recent 22nd birthday was a hard thing for me to come to grips with, even though my mother had again faced her fear of flying to visit us from Baltimore and my husband had wrangled up all his friends to meet us at The Cheesecake Factory when all but one of my friends here in Cali had “other plans”. That day, I felt like my childhood was coming to an end because I wasn’t making time for the kid in me. I felt like I’d been living a 27 year-old’s life for so long… what possibly could 22 bring? “Can't remember what I did last night… maybe I shouldn't have given in, but I just couldn't fight… hope I didn't but I think I might've… everything… everything is still a blur…” I will dance again. And I will come to work on a Saturday to finally give into the seductive tree that has been calling out, “Nisey, come climb me and read under the shade of my leaves,” every day as I set out on my 20 minute drive home. See, we tend to take these small things for granted because our high heels, ties, and big boys’ and girls’ pants tell us to trade in our toys for board meetings and beer. Fuck that… “I don’t wanna grow up… I’m a Toys"R"Us kid...” and I will never get rid of my stuffed Tiggers and Barbies… Neither should you. Take time out to do things for the kid in you. Buy an ice cream cone… go skating… skip rocks across a pond… have a sleepover with your best girlfriends… What were your favorite things to do as a kid? Do them! Don’t let this world suck the joy from your life. All work and no play leaves your vision blurred…

***Lyrically Speaking-X Written by: Ccep J. Dew, West Coast Editor as published in eXcape the matriX magazine www.eXcapethematriX.com

Lyrically Speaking-IX

“It could all be so simple… but, you’d rather make it hard… loving you is like a battle… and we both end up with scars… tell me who I have to be… to gain some reciprocity… see, no one loves you more than me… and no one ever will…” -Lauryn Hill, “Ex Factor” The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill The first boy to ever show serious interest in me stood at the end of a rectangular table, with a weapon pressed against his throat, yelling, “Jenise! If you won’t marry me, I’ll kill myself!” And I, seated at the other end of the table, being the Taurus that I am, rose up in a bull-like stance, eyes piercing, retorting, “Then, go ahead and do it!” We were in the 2nd grade. And the weapon held tightly in the curly-haired kid’s hand was a plastic spork. Noah was crazy about me. So crazy, in fact, that he spent half of recess chasing me, a blue cone held crooked amidst those dark brown curls. It was like a never-ending game. No matter how fast and long I ran, he trailed right behind me. Until Mrs. Jackson sat him down on the stairs. He whined. She scolded, “Noah, chill out, okay? It’s your birthday.” He didn’t want to chill out. He wanted to kiss me. Need I remind you, we were in the 2nd grade… “Is this just a silly game… that forces you to act this way… forces you to scream my name… then pretend that you can't stay… tell me, who I have to be… to gain some reciprocity… see, no one loves you more than me… and no one ever will…” The kid with the curly hair was unrelenting in his admiration of me. And I, unknowingly, added fuel to the fire by responding adversely. The more I ran, the more he chased, and no matter what I said to him, it never seemed to hurt his feelings or slow his strides. Noah was a fighter. I wonder how I would’ve felt… standing in a crowded room… weapon piercing my throat… calling out to my love… only to have that person say, “Go ahead and do it…” Would I? Or would I continue with my strides in pursuit of my passions, not necessarily a person? Life throws obstacles our way. People say the cruelest of things when we are already two feet below rock bottom. Friends turn their backs to us, family members misuse us, and the sky gets cloudier and cloudier. But, we can’t let that stop us. Those people don’t have control over us any more than my cruel words had control over Noah. He didn’t let that stop him. He continued to annoy me with his love anyway. And, I must admit… I did like him. And we might be good friends to this day if I had responded to his affection differently. See, sometimes the biggest obstacles aren’t external. Sometimes, the biggest obstacles are ourselves… “I keep letting you back in… how can I explain myself… as painful as this thing has been… I just can't be with no one else… see, I know what we got to do… you let go and I'll let go too… 'cause no one's hurt me more than you… and no one ever will…”

***Lyrically Speaking-IX Written by: Ccep J. Dew, West Coast Editor as published in eXcape the matriX magazine www.eXcapethematriX.com

Lyrically Speaking-VIII

“If you don’t know… now you know you gonna miss… my love… and I ain’t stressing ‘bout a doggone thang… ‘cause I was true when I gave you… my love… if… you… search you will never find… another love like… my lve… you’re gonna miss me… I ain’t got time while you sit around and play with… my love…” -Destiny’s Child, “If”, Destiny Fulfilled My love is not to be taken for granted. I gave it to you freely and abundantly and you did not appreciate it… When it was there, you weren’t. Now that it’s gone, here you are. But, it’s too late. So, stop calling… stop writing… stop sending “friend requests”… we are not friends. You had your Chance. You choose Community Chess. Well, checkmate. It’s clear that this is not your game. Doesn’t matter. I’m no longer playing. I’m removing my gloves… I’m beginning to think that you never loved me. That all this time, you were a mirage created by my dehydrated heart. I was thirsty for love. Thirsting for a sip that would quench this need, but you merely teased me with a drop on my tongue… I don’t taste you no more. Don’t smell that scent that used to draw me in. Don’t hear that tone that cheered my soul. Don’t feel the way I used to feel… Don’t see why I wasted my time on you… But, I won’t anymore. And you… you don’t have control anymore… Don’t have that hold anymore. Let me go… You didn’t love me when you had me, so… let me go… Didn’t clutch me when I needed an embrace… Didn’t kiss me when I needed to feel your flesh upon my face… let me go… Because I released you… A long time ago… ***People don’t have control over us. We control their impact on our lives. If someone is not loving you the way that you need to be loved or supporting you or accepting of the person that you are, realize that they are who they are, accept it, and let the situation go. You cannot change them; you can only change your perspective. You are beautiful… dynamic… intelligent… unique… and worthy. It may seem like you do, but you do not need their approval. This is your life to live, so live it…

***Lyrically Speaking-VIII Written by: Ccep J. Dew, West Coast Editor as published in eXcape the matriX magazine www.eXcapethematriX.com

Lyrically Speaking-VII

“A best friend is one you can do embarrassing things in front of with confidence.” -Ccep J. Dew I was thinking about one of my best friends today. Before I moved here to California, we spent about two months hanging out every week and not one of those days did I feel uncomfortable. From day one to today, I have always felt like myself around Mary. It’s refreshing to feel that way about another person, especially in this day when unhealthy rivalry is so present amongst female friends especially. Mary’s not my only best friend, of course. My husband is my “bestest friend in the whole wide world” and of course there’s my mother and my big sister—plus a few others who are more than friends, but kind of less than best friends—but, the thing I love about my friendship with Mary is that not once have I felt jealous of her and not once has she shown any jealousy towards me. We are beautiful, intelligent, blessed, and gifted young ladies and instead of wanting to one-up one another, we celebrate each other and do what we can to help the other excel. For example, Mary is reading over one of my novels that is no where near the finished perfection I want it to be. But, I trust her with it and I respect her feedback, which is usually along the lines of “You go, girl!” And when she needed a name for her massage practice, I suggested “A Muse’s Touch”, which she eventually chose to use. In my 21 years on this earth, I have had “best friends” come and go, and I can honestly say that Mary is one of the only ones I have ever felt this way about. I don’t have to be better than her. I don’t have to brag to her. I don’t have to downplay her accomplishments to make mine seem bigger. I can be equal to her and I am and wherever life takes me, she can rest assured that I will be buying an extra ticket for her to come with. I never really understood those “sister-friend” movies like Waiting To Exhale until now. In the past, my sister-friends always had to be more than me. They always made it clear that we were friends, as long as I knew my place was second, and I can admit, I’ve done the same with some of my friends. But, I think that’s how you know that particular relationship is seasonal. When you are in need of an ear to listen, and your friend doesn’t answer, and you don’t get mad that they aren’t there at that exact moment… that is true friendship. When your friend gets a great promotion while you are struggling with two jobs and you are genuinely happy for them… that is true friendship. When you can dance like Elaine from Seinfeld and not care that people are staring, while she does the Funky Chicken next to you before breaking out into the Running Man… that is true friendship. There are a few other people I can think of that I can be a total dork around and not care. When I do relax and act like the bookworm nerd that I truly am, they don’t make snide comments, call me names, or anything like that. Usually, they are acting just as dorky, if not more. And I’m grateful to have these people in my life. They make each day a little bit easier. So, I challenge you to reevaluate your friendships. Are you in a competition? Do you often assure yourself that you’re prettier, smarter, or more athletic than your friends? If so, then you should realize that you are feeling insecure and a real friendship shouldn’t make you feel less than, whether the person says things to make you feel bad or if it’s just in your mind. Surround yourself with people who encourage you to sing at the top of your lungs in your best Christina Aguilera voice, knowing full-well that you are no Christina Aguilera. I mean it! Hold onto people who make you smile within and make you want to be the dorkiest you that you can possibly be. My hubby not only encourages me to sing “And I Am Telling You” karaoke-style in our living room, but he joins in for some songs. That’s bestest friendship. That’s true love ***Lyrically Speaking-VII Written by: Ccep J. Dew, West Coast Editor as published in eXcape the matriX magazine www.eXcapethematriX.com