Everyday Inspiration, Day Fourteen: Recreate A Single Day






I want to start this by saying that I am Christian, from the bottom to the top my faith is my life. With that said I try to live my life in a way that glorifies the Lord fulfilling the great commission that Jesus gave in Matthew 28.

Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.

Matthew 28:19-20 NIV

I come into contact with non-believers and the “Christian-lite” all the time. And I always try to make the most of the time I have with them. Although sometimes it’s difficult. After all I’m still human with my own set of hangups and personal issues, which can get in the way of talking about God with people.
On this particular day I was having a conversation with an employee of mine whose stance on God I didn’t know yet. The subject of the recent Orlando shootings at a gay club came up, and since he is an openly gay man I’d new he’d have an opinion on it. The conversation started with how Muslim terrorists were misusing the teachings of the Quran to fuel their own violent agenda. Then he proceeded to say that Christians did the same thing. To which I agreed, some Christians use the Bible as an excuse to do all kinds of awful things. But here’s where the conversation went sideways.
He then proceeded to allude that the Bible was an old book that was no longer relevant anymore, and that Jesus Christ was just a man. Then he started to attempt to explain some of the ways Christians misinterpret the Bible. He jumped from topic to topic in the Bible and it became clear to me that he had probably never even read the Bible. I could feel my frustration mounting. I hate when people pretend to know what they’re talking about in general but here he was pretending he understood my God!

He crossed the line when he said that the Bible condoned suicide because Jesus Christ killed himself. I’d had enough. I explained to him along with the support of my coworker that Jesus Christ did not commit suicide, he was God’s perfect son who gave himself for the sins of man. And then I asked him to please stop talking. He could tell he offended me and he apologized.
Thinking back on it later that day I wondered if I’d done the wrong thing by cutting him off. Did I act in a Christ-like manner?

No, I didn’t. I let my emotions get the better of me. I felt very badly about this until a wise friend reminded me that since we work together more opportunities would come along and now I knew what to do next time.

Fellow Christ-followers! Have you ever been in a situation where a non-believer offended or frustrated you? What did you do?


*photo by Tim Marshall


Everyday Inspiration, Day Thirteen: Play With Word Count


A 50 Word Story

“I knew you’be good at this.”


“You remember when I saw you at the race and you were off by yourself not with the crowd?”


“That’s how I knew you’d be good at this.”

“What do you mean?”

“A true artist never follows the crowd, they don’t know how to.”




This “story” is based on a dream I had years ago. I was having a conversation with Spike Lee and this is what we were saying, strange right? I had this dream when I was new to writing. I think God was trying to tell me I was doing the right thing.


*Photo by Andreas Wagner 

Everyday Inspiration, Day Twelve: Critique a Piece of Work

I don’t think many people know this about me but I love classic movies. I’m not talking about 70’s and 80’s classic, I’m talking about 30’s and 40’s classic.

American Actress Barbara Stanwyck
Studio portrait of American actor Barbara Stanwyck (1907 – 1990)  (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images)


I don’t think many people know this about me but I love classic movies. I’m not talking about 70’s and 80’s classic, I’m talking about 30’s and 40’s classic.

I credit my Mom for introducing me to classic movies. She used to put on The Sound of Music and The Wizard of Oz for me while she braided my hair.
I rediscovered classic movies in high school and fell in love with them. I loved the glamour, the witty banter, the drama, and of course the romance. I do realize back in those days things weren’t really glamorous for women or minorities. But that’s what movies are for, to help you forget about your troubles for awhile, and be entertained.

My favorite classic movie star is Barbara Stanwyck. She was so fierce, witty, smart, and not a damsel in distress. She didn’t play characters who needed men to save her. If anything men should beware of her, her cleverness was deadly. Ms.Stanwyck also had a very long career in Hollywood, which made me admire her all the more. She stood the test of time from to the pre-code 1930’s to the dawn of TV shows  as a force to be reckoned with.

I decided to put together a little list of 5 of my favorite classic movies. I reccomend these if I’ve inspired you to give classic movies a try.

  1. The Lady Eve (1941). Barbara Stanwyck, Henry Fonda
  2. The Apartment (1960). Shirley MacLaine, Jack Lemmon
  3. Laura (1944). Gene Tierney, Dana Andrews
  4. Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1958). Elizabeth Taylor, Paul Newman
  5. Three on a Match (1932) Joan Blondell, Warren William


Below is a clip of Barbara Stanwyck in action in The Lady Eve. She plays a very clever conwoman hunting a socially awkward millionaire played by Henry Fonda, little does she know she’s about to fall in love.

Everyday Inspiration, Day Eleven: A Cup of Coffee

If we were having coffee right now…

coffee 2


If we were having coffee right now… I’d tell you that I plan to learn to how to play an instrument very soon. God’s been telling me that it’s time to stop wishing, wanting and saying someday. The time is now, go for it. He gave me these gifts and these longings for a reason and it wasn’t to put them on a shelf.

If we were having coffee right now… I’d tell you that ever since I read Fervent by Priscilla Shirer with my bible study group I have been hearing God more and more. It’s exciting, and a tad unnerving. It’s like “Did I really hear that?”

If we were having coffee right now… I’d ask you when do you say when in your career life? I ask that because my relationship with my job is waning. I’ve been praying through some serious anxiety lately at the thought of my job. Sometimes the night before and sometimes in the car when I get in. I’m realizing now that when your job is making you psychologically ill it’s time to rethink some things.

If we were having coffee right now… I’d tell you that the farther I get into adulthood the more I realize how imperfect my childhood was. Well I never really thought it was perfect, but I’m understanding now it was more messed up than I thought. My parents will probably fight me on this one but it’s true. We’re not a “family-oriented” family and it should probably bother me more.

If we were having coffee right now… I’d say that though there are areas in my life where things aren’t great, I’m content. I’m enjoying the journey because I am determined not to waste my youth. I want to see, smell, taste, hear, and touch everything I’ve ever wanted to while I’m still young and able.


*photo by Patrick Tomasso

Everyday Inspiration, Day Nine: Writing and Not Writing

What do you do when you’re not writing? How do you reset and return to the dashboard, refreshed?

-WordPress, Blogging University
Two words and two words only answer that question. Live music.



What do you do when you’re not writing? How do you reset and return to the dashboard, refreshed?

-WordPress, Blogging University

Two words and two words only answer that question. Live music.

Next to Jesus and writing, music is one of my great loves. There’s nothing like an amazing piece of music to stir you up. Music can transport you back in time, make you wonder, make you dream. Music is the musicians heart, live music is that heart on display.  The artist will tell you why he or she wrote that song, what inspired it, and the music will take on new meaning. Maybe it was deep deep love, or ugly heartbreak, or the miracle of new life.
I live for that, I live for the story of how the music came to be, because it inspires me to take the stories of my life and create something with it.

Isn’t that what all art is? Taking the human condition and creating with it.


*Original Photos

Everyday Inspiration, Day Eight: Reinvent the Letter Format


Dear Kardashian family,

I’m sorry. I’m sorry that your entire lives have become a media frenzy. Sorry that you can’t leave your home without cameras watching. Sorry that your kids will never know a normal life. Sorry that every tweet, snap chat, and Instagram picture is scrutinized and commented on thousands of times over. Sorry that the way your earn your living is by staying under the unforgiving public eye.

I bet you never saw this coming when you first decided to let cameras into your home 9 years ago. I remember that first season, you were a lovable blended family that gave me a modern day Brady Bunch feel. There were antics and laughing, that made me want a big family of my own one day, if only for an hour. Compared to Paris Hilton the reigning reality queen of the time you all seemed a lot more relatable.

These days the you’ve become an American dynasty. Even when the cameras have stopped rolling your lives are still a source of entertainment. From the sex tape to the sex change millions of us are tuning in.
Sometimes I wonder what goes on inside of you? What happens when you do get that private moment? Do you regret letting those cameras in? Do you regret depending on your image for income?  Do you worry about the day when you’re no longer relevant? Or what’s going to happen to Kendall and Kylie being young socialites with money to burn? History says they’ll become reckless party girls who will waste their money on booze and lawyers for their multiple DUI’s. How will you keep them grounded when they’ve grown up on TV?

Some say that I shouldn’t feel sorry for you. That this is exactly what you want, you love the attention, the glamour, and the money. I don’t doubt that. I think apart of you does love it, but I also think apart of you hates it. You were pulled in by the fact that you could just “be yourself” and make a sizable income. But now you see what the consequences are of living your lives on display, but what can you do? This is the way you live.

So I end this letter asking you to not lose your perspective. Hold on to what’s real, knowing that your fame has a shelf life. I don’t want to sound harsh but it’s true, America is fickle. You’ve fought a good fight though. You’re active on social media, have clothing lines, make up lines, fragrances, and of course the TV show. But it won’t last forever. And just like fame has a shelf life so does beauty. In our world beauty is everything, so the moment that goes the cameras will go too. I caution you to build something that will not crumble with the loss of surface level things like fame and beauty. Build something that will stand the test of time.


An Old Fan.







Everyday Inspiration, Day Seven: Let Social Media Inspire You




I think this is what makes humans so insufferable, we sometimes lack the ability to see how truly insignificant we are in the grand scheme of things. When compared to the universe our lives are just a speck of dust, but here we are thinking that universe revolves around us and our needs.
I feel I can say this because I’ve worked in customer service my entire life and have seen the worst of worst human beings in action. But a lot of humans are selfish, prideful, entitled, annoyingly insecure, and just downright pain in the necks. But I love y’all still (most of the time) because I’m not perfect and have been and sometimes still am all of the things I’ve listed.

It’s very easy to get wrapped up in this #selfie nation that we live in. But right now promise yourself that you will take more time to step out of “me” and into the world around you.

  1. Take A Walk
    When’s the last time you just stepped back just to marvel at how awesome this world is. I know there’s a lot of ugly things happening in the world right now but that’s even more reason to get out there at see it. Look up at the blue sky and the massiveness of it, appreciate it. Who knows what it will look like in 10 years.
  2. Actually Care
    No one really cares about anyone anymore. I realize that a little bit more every time I get on the road and no one will let me change lanes. So next time if you see someone with their blinker on don’t just pass them be a nice person and let them over. Also the next time you ask someone how they are, actually mean it. I hate that that’s become this empty greeting.
  3. Think Of Someone Else
    I can’t stress this one enough. Have you ever entered a public bathroom and it was completely trashed? That’s because someone didn’t have the courtesy to clean up after themselves. I know this is surface level but this kind of thing bleeds over into more serious parts of life. You messy bathroom people, do you ever stop to think about the poor soul who has to clean that restroom? No…you didn’t, next time please do. You may never get a “thank you” but trust me your helping someone.




*Photo by NASA

Everyday Inspiration, Day Six: The Space to Write

George Bernard Shaw and his writing shed he called “London.”


Roald Dahl, Mark Twain, Virginia Woolf, George Bernard Shaw, Dylan Thomas, Michael Pollan, and Henry David Thoreau. All noted authors or poets but they had one more thing in common they all had writing sheds.

For these authors their writing sheds was a way they could get away from distractions and focus on their writing. Michael Pollan was quoted as calling his shed “a place of solitude a few steps off the beaten track of everyday life.” These sheds were actual converted storage sheds or sometimes cottages and huts. George Bernard Shaw actually outfitted his with a turntable so he could push it towards the sun as it moved during the day for natural light.
I currently write at a small desk in the sun room of my apartment but it’s a shared space so it’s not very private. My roommate aka my Dad also uses the desk so his mail tends make it’s home there. I have a desk in my room but I find it to be suffocating and too distracting. I dream of having a writing shed of my own someday nestled away in a garden. With big windows, a small couch and a desk. Some where I can be alone with my thoughts with only the sounds of nature. No traffic, no neighbors, just sweet sweet solitude.

Photo credit*

Photo credit*

Readers and friends!
Anything that you’d like me to write about?? I’m taking ideas! Just head over to my Contact page and leave a comment. Looking forward to hearing from you 🙂

Everyday Inspiration, Day Five: Hook ’Em With a Quote


I am not tragically colored. There is no great sorrow dammed up in my soul, nor lurking behind my eyes. I do not mind at all.
Zora Neale Hurston

A Reconciliation To Blackness

When I was a little girl I preferred white dolls to black ones. I remember a home video of my 5th birthday at Chuck-E-Cheese where I complained at the sight of a black baby doll. “I wanted a white one.” I complained. This frustrated my parents who could not understand this preference of mine so they continued to buy me black dolls. I’ve always wondered why I was like this. I hadn’t experienced racism yet. I had no self-hatred or shame towards my race. I can only guess it was because I had no representations of black women in the books and TV shows I watched. There was no black Disney princesses at this time, no black kids starring in the shows or movies I enjoyed. All the characters I loved were white.
I loved Barbie as most girls did, but it was white Barbies that mostly graced store shelves. And the what did I have in common with the black Barbie? Other than her skin tone? And really not even that, she came only in a dark brown shade and I was not that. Her hair wasn’t like mine, and neither were her features. She was a darker version and that’s it. A second-rate copy, no more similar to me than white Barbie.

As I mentioned earlier, I didn’t experience racism in my early childhood. Although I was among one of the few black students in my classes surrounded by Latinos and Asians, the other kids never made me feel any different. Maybe because we were all growing up in a culturally diverse area and we were used to it. It wasn’t until I left the tolerant west and came to the not as tolerant south that all that changed.
It was made very clear to me early on that here in the south my “blackness” mattered to everyone. First of all the school I intended had been segregated in the 60’s. This shook me because in California, America’s checkered past wasn’t so easily seen. The buildings were newer, historic areas weren’t common. But even though the school wasn’t segregated anymore the students acted as if it was. The white kids hung out with the white kids, the black kids with the black kids, latinos with latinos. Furthermore certain races were expected to walk and talk a certain way. If you didn’t act “black” then you were acting white and therefore trying to be something that you’re not. This was made known to me the moment I opened my mouth to speak, I got some very confused looks followed by a “Where you from?”
I had no twang and used no slang, and was soft spoken. None of this was “typical” of black girls and therefore I was talking like a white girl. Up until to this moment no one had ever commented on the way I spoke. Not only did I not talk like them, I didn’t enjoy the same music or activities. I was shunned and branded a “Barbie.” Go figure.

So there I was in a social no man’s land. Not black enough for the black kids, but still too black for the whites and latinos. So I fell in with rest of the rejects, the gays, the pothead’s, and other troubled teens. They didn’t seem to care what I looked like, or how I spoke.
This unofficial segregation wasn’t only in the schools, it rippled through the rest of the small city of Amarillo, TX. There was a clear-cut area which was the black side of town, which in itself isn’t that uncommon. What perplexed me is that the blacks rarely even ventured out of their side of town as if there was an invisible wall around the east side of Amarillo. So when me and my family would go to restaurants and stores anywhere else in town we were usually the only black people. I can remember vividly one night when my family and I went to a Mexican restaurant, it wasn’t upscale in any way just your average family restaurant. As we entered the entire restaurant stopped what they were doing and looked at us. You’d think we were aliens dressed in purple the way we got everyone’s attention. They served us and the waiter was polite but no one expected us to be eating there. 2007 and a black family in a restaurant was unexpected!
Over time I came to expect uneasy stares because that’s usually where it ended. But one day as I was strolling through the “white” Wal-mart, that wasn’t where it ended. I was walking through the aisle and as I walked by this elderly white woman she pulled her purse closer to her.
“I don’t want your purse you old hag!” I wanted to yell.
She didn’t know but she had offended me deeply.
I hated that my “blackness” carried automatic suspicion. I hated that my “blackness” was the first thing people saw. Most of all I hated that this was accepted by everyone.

I was so glad when I left the accepted racism of small town America for the big city. I’ve heard Altanta called the “Black capital of America.” Not sure if that’s true or not but I know I found it very rereshing to able to walk through Target without drawing one iota of attention. In Amarillo it was rare that you saw a black face in Target, it was too “bougie.” But here I was in Atlanta in a Target where everyone was black!  Everywhere you looked there was black people, in nearly every part of the city! There were affluent areas filled with black families! It was hard to find a well off black family in Amarillo, let alone a whole neighborhood filled with them. Maybe Atlanta is the “black capital of America”, it defnitely is the black capital of the south. Are things perfect here? Of course not, racism in America is a chasm that runs very deep. It is an anomaly though  because the moment you leave the Metro-Atlanta area things start to look like more like the traditional south.

I’m grateful to Atlanta for patching up my racial wounds. I’m now surrounded by black people who are not “tragically colored” but are educated, empowered and independent. I am proud to be counted as one of them.



*Photo by John W. Mosley




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