Family, Honoring Creative Differences & Dirt Cookies

FAMILY
So what is family? Is it blood? Is it what you make it? My grandmother passed away yesterday. She was a million years old (97) and it was time but I'm sad. She wasn't my blood but she was my family. Her son, my step-father Dave, saved my view on what a true man is. He isn't my blood but he is my family. He's been there since I was nine-years-old. He is the only man besides my husband that has never abandoned me, left me, hurt me. He's always been there no matter what. I truly love that man and as far as I am concerned - he is my father.

For me, family is what you make it. I used to cry for my blood family. I wanted them to be there but many of them are not. So I had to make a choice. I could be miserable and continue to try to get water out of a dry well or I could reach out and find a well that was full. I chose full. Now, the only time I get thirsty is when I decide not to drink.

HONORING CREATIVE DIFFERENCES
Right now, I'm trying to figure out how to tell my producer I don't like the song we just recorded. Something just ain't right. How do you honor your own creative voice? I went into the studio last week and recorded a song. I got it last night. I was excited and nervous with anticipation. I opened it. Listened to it and my heart sunk. It needed to marry and it didn't. I let my husband and son listen to it because sometimes I am not a good judge. I'm too critical. My son said it was boring and my husband said it was "ehhh." My son said it didn't have the bling that "All About Me" did. He is right. So what now?

I feel like if we are really going to work together and make this happen, I have to be able to say what I like and what I don't like. We have to marry this music. To me, that means that we may have to rearrange some of these tracks. I have to work on my vocals. That means more time in the studio. Time is money and neither one of us have money. I'm afraid he won't want to do that, he'll walk away and I'll have nothing to work with. I get so tired of money being an issue. My head being an issue. I just want to make music that matters. I want to perform. I want to honor my own creativity without offending him in the process. I have to talk to him and be honest or else it won't work. Right? I gotta let go of the fear and continue to speak my truth. Let the chips fall where they may. I hate this grown up shit. It is so uncomfortable.

IN OTHER NEWS: DIRT COOKIES

Dirt cookies. That's what poor children in Haiti eat. Dirt freakin' cookies. They make mud pies. They let them dry outside near open sewage. They pay $5 for a bag of dirt and sell dirt cookies for 5 cents a piece. What is up with that? I used to get really annoyed when I would see people going off to different countries to help them. Especially when we have people in need right here in our own backyard but yesterday when I saw them eating dirt cookies, I really struggled with my feelings. In my eyes, you can't take care of others unless your own house is in order. I don't know how I feel about that today. Am I human or American? Is my backyard the USA or is it the world? If it's both, what does that mean? I just really want my 40 acres and mule people.

I guess it just bugs me when I see our government pledging millions of dollars to Yemen and Haiti when millions of people here can't put food on their table, keep a roof over their head, pay for health insurance, put books and teachers in our children's classrooms. We are busy rebuilding other people's countries with the hope they won't come over here and attack us yet folks in New Orleans are still living in FE MA trailers. Where do you draw the line? We are broke as shit too. I think as human-beings we need help each other but at what costs? I don't know. All is know is that kids eating dirt cookies is fucked up.