My father has been dead for 20 years this month and it sometimes feels like I’m still that little girl watching his chest pump once, then twice, then completely stop and not quite believing my daddy just took his last breath. Sometimes, it still feels like Monday, December 8, 1997, all over again.
I remember where I was on August 13, 2013, and I thank God everyday that I'm alive to recount the memory. Fishtailing on the interstate and crashing into a concrete wall at 60MPH, head-on, without a seatbelt, in the middle of rush hour, was not on my to-do list for that Tuesday afternoon.
Google came through with the best Doodle to ever grace my home screen for the 44th anniversary of the birth of Hip-Hop and I kind of love it. Google Doodle. Ha! It rhymes!
Can one really ever understand the nature of someone they’ve never met just through the words that make up the story of their life?
I hate the internet. Really, I do. It's hard to imagine the nuances of my life without it, but I well and truly hate it. Quite the conundrum, isn't it?
It'll be one year next month since the world was introduced to Ieshia Evans: A 35-year-old woman who stood silently, unflinchingly, in protest against the deaths of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile at the hands of law enforcement.
I was stuck in a conference room for two hours this morning. Stuck without a phone; without a laptop; without a pen to twirl around my fingers. It was an admirable test of patience, tolerance and commodarity. I passed. Obviously.