Sweet Dreams of Passion Through The Night....

Recognized: Entry #1

Shows like TV One's Unsung tend to fly under the radar...as do the people in the show (oh, the irony.) Unsung features artists and musicians who provided a soundtrack to our childhood and/or our parents' young adult years, and are either unrecognized or did not receive the full recognition they deserved. As a tribute to these forgotten artists- and to supplement an already fabulous show- I'll be creating my own version of Unsung blogs, except with a twist- Recognized. These blogs will include actors and actresses from television shows or movies, who cemented themselves in black popular culture. I'll recall my introduction to the talent at hand, and discuss how they've impacted my life and our culture. Let's first start with a music artist:

Melanie Janene Thornton (May 13th 1967- November 24th, 2001) of La Bouche





Bio: Born in Charleston, South Carolina, Melanie Janene Thornton wanted to pursue a singing career at young age, and was heavily influenced by recording female recording artists such as Roberta Flack and Aretha Franklin. In February 1992, Melanie traveled to live in Germany with her sister and brother-in-law, arriving with just $15 dollars in her wallet. After an unsuccessful stint on the nightclub circuit and many failed demos, Thornton caught the eye of music producer Frank Farian, a producer who also worked with artists Milli Vanilli and Boney M. Pairing her with rapper Lane McCray, Farian placed Thornton as the front man of the newly formed Eurodance group "La Bouche," French for "The Mouth." The group's claim to fame were the songs "Sweet Dreams" and "Be My Lover," and soon La Bouche became one of the most successful Eurodance groups of the nineties. Their awards included the German Grammy, the Golden Europa for 'Best Duo or Group,' and the Echo for 'Best Dance Song of the Year."



Death: By 2000, Thornton set out to pursue a solo career, and on November 24th, 2001, Thornton boarded a plane to promote her solo album, Ready to Fly. Tragically, the plane crashed near Bassersdrof, Switzerland killing Thornton (age 34), and all 24 passengers on board.

Influence: La Bouche was another artist I was introduced to by Cathy, and I remember her repeatedly blasting the La Bouche album, Greatest Hits. The music was somewhat foreign to me as it was one of my earliest memories of dance/techno music, but I LOVED Thornton's voice. Imagine my delight when I looked at the cassette tape holder, and found that Thornton was this gorgeous black woman! I don't hear 'Sweets Dreams" or 'Be My Lover" on the radio anymore, but sometimes (depending on the place), I'll hear it at a party or in a bar. And every time, I unconsciously sing the lyrics, word for word, as if I'm that little girl singing "wanna be my lover" around the dining room on Coyle.

As popular as La Bouche was, the group continues to remain 'unsung' in black popular culture, mainly because of the type of music they performed. Although it wasn't soul, hip-hop, or R&B, it was still music performed by two black talented artists that were able to break into an industry dominated by white artists, become successful, AND do it better than it had been done before.

La Bouche: RECOGNIZED.

Do Right Woman, Do Right Man

When browsing through my Twitter timeline or my Facebook news feed, I run across the same question:

"Where are all the good men/women at???"

I cringe every time I see it. Not so much because of the question itself, but because of the person posing the question. You may say I'm being judgmental, but when people use social networks to broadcast their every thought and action and post explicit pictures of themselves, it's not passing judgment on anyone, but questioning how people think they can and deserve to find a "good man" or "good woman" when they have this oversexualized image.

Men- So you tweet about all the women you slept with, how much money you're getting, and in the wee hours of the morning, groaning about how "some ---- would be good right about na." That's cool. Do you. However, don't inbox me a proposal for a date when you spend most of your time calling women bitches and hoes, talk about getting high, or uploading twitpics of some "phat a**" you seen at the store. Don't say you're looking for a "natural woman" when you scout Facebook and Twitter for women to add as "friends" when a good portion of them are sporting false eyelashes, weave, and tons of makeup in their profile pic.

"Man, I don't know why I keep getting tagged in these Jordan/Nike heels pictures!"

-___________________________________________________-

If you want to present yourself to others as a heartless, thugged out, hoe magnet, you can do whatever you want. But don't believe that any self-respecting woman is going to be attracted to that, let alone go on a date with you. Eff outta here.


Women- "Gurl, it's so hard to find a good man out here. I keep attracting the same ol' niggas!"

That is correct. Especially when you have back shot pictures with your a** cheeks on the bathroom counter.

Like, for real. It's getting old. If I was a man, I would NOT have good intentions in befriending you either. And you may be a loyal woman. You may know how to cook and clean and be "God-fearing", but WHO CARES when you look like a whore in all of your photos. And you'll be the FIRST to complain about all of the random inbox messages from "thirsty dudes." Yesterday, I watched a woman tweet about how (and this is a censored recount) much she loved performing oral sex and recalled various memories of threesomes and other sexual adventures. THEN turned around and got mad because men started DM'ing her about her skills.

"I'm a lady. Don't disrespect me!"

Bish please.

Clearly social networks will forever be a part of our culture, both in America and internationally. If you plan on using them to find The One, pay attention to how you present yourself, and don't complain that no good men or women exists. You just may be that man or woman that people are trying to avoid.

Gumpshun

I'm not used to this whole "having a lot of time on my hands" thing. Granted, I will regret this statement come the beginning of Fall semester, but to go from four classes and three jobs, to no classes and one part-time job is driving me nuts. And the sad thing is, having a car would not help with my boredom. Where would I go? Who would I see?

For the most part, I feel that I've tapped into everything Ann Arbor, Detroit, metro Detroit...sheesh, MICHIGAN has to offer. That's why I crack up at the "Visit Michigan" commercials. Portraying the state as this fun-fun getaway with casinos, beaches, kayaking, and birds that perch on your shoulder while you walk through the forest--



Ignore my cynicism. It really is a great campaign. Honestly. Just another rant from someone who's a Michigan native, and is unable to see Michigan through the eyes of a tourist.

ANYWAY, I love to set goals, and I'm even more ecstatic when I achieve them. So far, I'm on the right path, but I feel I've failed myself in one area thus far. I once had aspirations to be an entrepreneur. It was something that stemmed from reading stories on Berry Gordy, Madame C.J. Walker, and Bill Gates. It essentially was one of the driving factors that made me want to be a business major- well, that and money- and an outlet I wanted to use to provide financial support to my family. I wish I had access to my old library records in Dearborn, Southfield, even Ann Arbor. I checked out countless books on entrepreneurship, "100 Best Businesses to Start"-like books, and even Motley Fool's books on investing (should I earn massive amounts of money from the my business..... -______-)

Yet, I could never find The One. No, not a man (*rolls eyes*) but the right idea. When I read books on businesses to start, they gave the usual suggestions:

- Clothing Store
- Landscape Company
- Professional Organizer/Assistant
- eBay Seller
- Avon Rep (o_o)
- House Sitter (o_O)
- Pet Sitter (O__O)

And the kicker is, people continued to publish books with these same jobs EACH YEAR. They'd appear in the Best Businesses for 2001 edition, the 2003 edition, 2007 edition, so on, and so on. As if our economy is stagnant, and world doesn't evolve. I believe I gave up on those books by the 2005 edition. What were my chances of becoming a millionaire as a PET. SITTER.



So here it is 2011. I'm still young, healthy, and ambitious, but the disappointment comes in because I'm not where I want to be in regards to owning and operating a company. At 12, the goal was to have a company by 13. At 13, it changed to 16, and by 16, it changed to 21. However, I still have yet to find The One and I refuse to put money and time into a business simply because a book or magazine says it's "what's hot for 2011." Maybe in this free time I'll find what it is I'm looking for. If not, then so be it. I need to practice patience.

Feel Good Inc.

I need to go on a diet!

Correction.

I need to develop healthier eating habits and incorporate time for exercise in my weekly schedule.

Problem is I have no idea where to start (once again). I mean, I've bought "healthier" foods. At one point, I was exercising for 30 minutes every other day. Then I decided that I couldn't eat healthy AND work out, and tried to do one or the other. #FAILofthemillenium

I don't why I'm having this epiphany at 10 something at night. Maybe it's because when I took off my clothes tonight, I didn't like what was in the mirror. A lot of people assume I'm joking when I say "OMG, I need to lose weight!" and some friends get annoyed or angered that I'm complaining about my size. However, it's not a matter of vanity or being melodramatic. If you look in the mirror, you dislike what you see, and it's something that you have control over, you should be able to change it....just don't...take it to the extreme.



And anyway, I realized that I'm getting older. I had a memorial service for my metabolism last year, and bid farewell to the size 5 pants yesterday as I shoved them in a donation bag. On a serious note, my family members have not received a clean bill of health from their doctors, and some of them didn't even have a chance to make it to the doctor's office (R.I.P. to cousin D.C. 05/18/2011). 24 is not the "end all, be all" but if I plan on living a healthy lifestyle, I need to start NOW.


.....Imma still save room for my candy tho. Just a little room.

Say It Loud....

This blog isn't unique. It's a topic that has been discussed many times before. But given the frequency of the encounters, I needed to vent.

There are several things that I dare people to speak on and expect not to feel my wrath. One is family. My womanhood. Another is my race.

I love--and I do mean LOVE--everything about being black. My features, the way I can style my hair, my skin color-- I believe that black people are some of the most beautiful beings on this earth. Imagine my disdain when I encounter people who question my allegiance to our race because I don't like or support something related to black people. It'll be for THEE MOST insignificant things, yet it'll cause me to have a mental meltdown. Let's look at several recent conversations:

Convo #1:

Friend #1: "Did you read the new book from Triple Crown?
Me: "Nah, I don't read too many of those books these days."
Friend #1: "I mean, why not? It's kinda messed up that you're so quick to read books by white authors, but you give the black authors no play."
Me: "But I never said..."


Convo #2

Friend #2: "I think I'm going to see 'Jumping the Broom' tonight."
Me: "Oh ok. I probably won't go cuz the previews didn't catch my interest."
Friend #2: "Well, it has an all-black cast, so you can't go wrong with that."
Me: "Actually, you can. You can wrong with an all-black cast just like you can wrong with an all-white cast."
Friend #2: "Well, at least I'M going to support our black people."

Convo #3

Me: "Don't you want to turn the t.v. off before you leave?"
Friend #3: "No. I'm leaving it on BET."
Me: "Why? You're wasting electricity."
Friend #3: "NO, I'm supporting BET by increasing their viewership. What would you know about that?"

#pauseforthecause

Since when did reading hood novels, watching movies with predominantly black casts, and @#$%@$^&* BET define our "blackness?" I find that there are too many black people out there trying to judge others' "blackness" without looking at their contributions-- or lack there of--to our race. And it's the funny how one the aforementioned friends peddles street pharmaceuticals to blacks in poverty-stricken neighborhoods in Detroit. And I'm the bad guy?

It just tickles me that we have the "Black Police" on patrol, seeking to find the person who's not "representin'." I had a finger aimed my way plenty of times before from the clothes that I wear to the perm in my hair. And how many of my educated black friends faced ridicule for sounding "too white?"



But ask them what they know about black history. Ask them how they are helping to stop perpetuating the cycles of crime, illiteracy, unemployment, and poverty within the Black community. It takes more than natural hair, tattoos, and collection of black films and hood novels to help to uplift our race. I often question what more can I do? How can I give back to my community? I by no means feel that my efforts outshine others nor do I want to present myself as someone who knows what others must do to "represent." It's just is frustrating to have to already prove my worth to society as both a woman and a black woman...but to have to prove myself to my own race?

BOYYYY STOP.

Well If You Don't Know, Now You Know...Ninja

10 Facts that people don't know about me- at least not everyone. These won't be the typical "I never broke a bone" or "My first kiss was..." kind of facts, but tidbits that are actually interesting and sometimes embarrassing. Get ready for the countdown!

10. I attempted to write a book around the age of 12, and even got to chapter 10. It was along the lines of a Goosebumps novel since I was heavily obsessed with R.L. Stine. Unfortunately, the computer that I started the book on was given away (!!!) and I decided not to begin it again. Short stories from then on.

9. I've had a plethora of weird celebrity crushes starting at the age of 9. This included Sisqo, Al Pacino, Jason Kidd, Jackie Wilson, Robert DeNiro, Nas, John Stamos, Chris Webber, Nelly, Blair Underwood, Haywood Nelson of What's Happening!, Haini Wolfgramm of the music group The Jets, etc. And the BIGGEST crush of them all? Sylvester Stallone. As you can see, there is no rhythm nor rhyme to this selection. Let the judgment commence.



8. The first rap song that I memorized is "Tha Block is Hot." I even printed the lyrics to make sure I knew every word and ab-lib.

7. I have seen a ghost before. Before you jump to call me cray cray, my sister and I both saw the ghost at the same time. And the house that we saw it in was said to have other "encounters" before. We never spent the night there again.

6. Because I used to help my mom in the kitchen a lot, I always thought I could cook. So when everyone was sleep in the house, I would get up in the middle of the night and grab my mom's Betty Crocker Cookbook.



Needless to say, I failed miserably. I pulled Millie into helping me one time, and we had to hide a pot we burnt in trying to make creme brulee. I did have one success! French onion stew. Couldn't go wrong with cutting up onions and a few bullion cubes.

5. I was a late bloomer whereas both my sisters developed at early ages. Both of them had hit C-cups before entering middle school, and I on the other hand remained flat as a wall. I would cry about it too. Not like small little "wah wah wah, I want boobies" cries, but "OH WOE IS ME! THE WORLD SHALL END-ETH IF THY BREASTS DO NOT GROW-ETH!!!" cries. Then the next thing you know, BAM! by eighth grade year. Then high school. Then college. Smooth sailing from there on out.



4. My first job was at a library where I had a number of obsessed patrons. One patron, a middle age white man, asked to take a picture of me sitting behind my desk at work. I wanted to say no but I agreed. Security caught the man taking the picture, asked him to show that he deleted it on his camera, and escorted him out the building. The next week, he brought in the picture he took- printed and in a frame. I was terrified. Scared to tell my parents, I hid the picture for a long time in our hall closet. After some months, I took the picture out, tore it into pieces, and smashed the frame. I left the library to go to Bridge, but even in the summer months I spent at home struggling to look for jobs, I never applied to work at the library again.

3. My first "boyfriend" was at the age of 13. His name was Chris, and my first encounter with him was watching him and my cousin ride by house (on bikes of course) with Chris cussing my cousin out. Mind you, Chris was only about 5'2, 5'3 at the time, and my cousin was some inches taller than him. On top of that, my cousin was like a neighborhood bully. So the fact that this boy was aggressive and denigrating someone older and physically larger than him, intrigued me. We met that day, we became a "couple" that day. My dad didn't like him, and I'm being nice using the phrase "didn't like." He eventually told me that Chris' name had been brought up in the barbershop as one of the many boys who'd been robbing people in the neighborhood, as well as did some breaking and entering. It all made sense, especially after Chris told me his "job in a junkyard" was a cover-up for him selling weed. I came to my senses and told him I didn't want to talk to him anymore. In response, he threatened to kill me and any other family member that tried to stop him. Good ol' Chris. Such a kidder!

2. Okay, this fact may disgust some readers. I've always had a high pain tolerance. I don't want to say that I'm a "fiend for pain" because that makes me sound like some kind of freak. 0_o I was just one of the kids who liked the feel of putting chip bag clips on their skin, on binder clips on their fingertips (I know. I know...) One of my worst habits, however, was to....umm...stick sewing needles under the skin on my fingers. On the palm side. I don't know why I used to do it, but it was more or less because I was bored and it didn't hurt me. So back in 6th grade, I decided to not only stick the needle under my skin, but use a threaded needle. By the end of second period, I threaded what looked like a small, stitched circle in the center of tip of my thumb. I freaked my classmates out, and of course, my teacher. Next thing you know, I get home from school, and my parents told me that my teacher contacted them during recess. HER story was that I cut my thumb open and sewed myself back together. (Really?) They asked was there any truth to her story, and I just told them about the needle incident myself. My loving father and mother, having already accepted the fact that their daughter was a weirdo, already knew about me playing with the sewing needles and quickly disregarded the whole thing. They also knew that although I wanted to be a doctor at that age, but wasn't dumb enough to cut myself open. Shoutout to Ms. Kallis for the memory.

1. At the age of 11, I first began tutoring at a tutor program at my church. At the time, adults were the only tutors, but I asked the program director if I could volunteer. I loved working with the elementary-aged students, and would bring in bags of candy from the penny candy store to reward them for their work. My favorite person to tutor was a special-ed student who was a couple of years older than me. I can't remember her name, but I remember her face, and the joy she had when I congratulated her on getting something right. Having remembered that feeling, and now having a nephew who's a special-ed student, I decided to apply to a tutoring program in Ann Arbor to work with special-ed students, and in addition, applied to the Big Brothers Big Sisters program. Fingers crossed that they accept my applications!

Ab-stract Ori-ginal, You Can't Get Your Own And That's Pitiful

I can't remember if I wrote a blog on pet peeves, but if so, whatever. Here goes another:

There are habits and actions people do which others consider to be an annoyance--hence "pet peeve." For clarification, I do not equate the phrase "pet peeve" to "dislike." For instance, a pet peeve is something along the lines of "Oh, I hate people who spit when they talk" or "I hate when my cat pees on the bed"(I don't have a cat by the way!) However, saying that "I don't like liars" is not a pet peeve. The operating term is "pet" as in minor. To say "My pet peeve is racists" or "My pet peeve is FOX News" are quite big statements, and don't fall under the pet peeve category. Pet peeve vs. dislike, do you see the difference? If not, oh well. Made sense to me!

I could give you list of my pet peeves. With me being a slight clean freak, most of them pertain to hygiene and housekeeping. However, the one that irks me to no end is unoriginality, and people who try to emulate my style and taste. You may say that sounds conceited. You may say I'm over-exaggerating. And I say, you may exit stage left if do not wish to listen to this rant. I shall give you 5 seconds.

5...4...3...2...

For those who know me, I have come a LONG way in developing style. As quiet as it's kept, I was one of those girls who dreamed of being a fashion designer. When I worked at a library, I regularly checked out books on fashion, and used my paychecks to subscribe to Vogue, W, and InStyle magazines. As much of a tomboy that I was, I still would sneak and put some of my mom's Bvlgari or Chloe perfume on a tissue, so I could put it on my neck once I got to school that day. After many years and countless fashion failures, I finally knew what I liked and what worked for me.

So to have someone come and try to take it is robbery. It's not just a matter of "so-and-so is trying to copy me." It's the fact that it took time to get here. The audacity of people to come in and take what took years for me to get to! I remember a couple of years of ago, a friend got mad over my comment on perfume. She smelled a perfume that I bought, and decided she would go out and buy it. I looked at her and simply told her "No. You're not." In reality, I couldn't prevent her purchasing the perfume if she wanted to, but the fact that she even considered buying it angered me. She did NOT make the 4 hour trip to Chicago, head to Magnificent Mile, and spend over an hour in Bloomingdales trying to find "the one." She just smelled it on my wrist.

And clothes? We won't even get on clothes.



Granted, my style is not all that unique. Kudos to the women who can wear the tutus, stripped leggings, or destroyed shirts-- and pull it off. I couldn't do what you do. But unique or not, it's MY style. Who wants to live in a world of clones? Eff the phrase "The greatest form of flattery is imitation." I must've overlooked the flattering part.


Dammit. Based on this blog, I now have to determine if unoriginality is my pet peeve or dislike.