I90 to ORD: Forbes Mobile Interface Wisdom

Flight XX to Mumbai: The Queen's Necklace and Indian Weddings

The Queen’s Necklace, Marine Drive  in South Mumbai  is a 'C'-shaped six-lane concrete road along the coast. When viewed at night standing top a ledge anywhere along the drive, the street lights resemble a string of pearls in a necklace. The view is breathtaking and brings reprieve to the bustle of the city and the hustle of the impoverished.

Henna tatted up and traditional sari for celebration (day 9)

I travelled to Andheri for an Indian wedding in the fall of 2013 and was blown away by the beauty of it all. Similar to my experience at Marine Drive, it was breathtaking. I mean I’ve been to a handful of weddings, current lifetime count=4. So my standard was average at best. But 10 days to celebrate the union of two people with enough dancing to feed the soul and enough food to feed a village is beyond comparison. And the idea of starting it right, with a lot of family, food, and fun appeals to me. 

Family and gracious tour guide standing in front of the Queen's Necklace

When you put your prayers up at 7 am and they've been answered by 7 pm....

22 Clark St. to Little Cuba

Wandering down Clark St. in my city of new, I pass a small café en route to New Lyfe. It is called Havana. I step inside and the smell brings me to that little sandwich place right outside of Breaking Pointe in the Dominican Republic. I am instantly transported to the open air space in Malaga where authentic paella takes over my taste buds and the colors remind me of Mexico City. I am in 3 places instantly without even dragging my britches down the road, so I sit down and have lunch.

It gives me home, and I’m at home. I still take the non-dairy, health conscious route new lyfe would have offered, but I am grateful for the additional flavor and the reminiscence of cultures. This place and the sun and the open air bring me back to island life. To a place I have never been. Unknown but missed. And I think of love. And of course, plane tickets to Havana.

Picture courtesy of http://allworldtowns.com/cities/havana.html

At the L.A. on Randolph 45 minutes later, I wonder if the walk up the 3 flights of stairs to the main floor is workout enough. Oh well, the meal was light and the plantain chips/ceviche was worth every bite.

US5219 to CLT: B***, You don't know my hands - Part 4

The last part of my B****, you don't know my hands posts. This series has truly brought out my inner rude girl. Juke queen shoutout to #Beyoncealwaysonbeat. Prepare to lose hours of your life

Part 4-

Bored?

Do your hands

feel inadequate since all they do

is grip the pen

That record your observations of me

My tools

Mesmerizing

Accentuating

Moves that you discuss  

Hot topics over lunch

Hush

Turn that pointed finger to the mirror

And conquer your own life

Just join me

Explore your creativity

Warning

The rate of return

Is exponential

Shhhh

Relax

Whisper into the tips of your fingers

Look into your palms

And emancipate your mind

B****, You don't know my hands Part 1-4

• Part 1
• Part 2
• Part 3
• Part 4

US5217 to MYR: B***, You don't know my hands - Part 3

I clearly had very strong feelings about this topic. My views on dance extend way past defense of dancehall. They start with the 16 year old Chante pom squad version of myself who embraced my very own juke queen with every release of a DJ Chip mixtape. 10 years later that girl was in a coma and my hands were lost. I have woken up to myself and I am in love.

Part 3- How I feel after a girls weekend at #BlackBikeWeek. 

Part 3

Listen Now

These hands

Cradle babies

Pen the script

Of generations lost

And seal boardroom deals

But Tonight

My lover and I

Meet eye to eye

I and I

Our hands meet

And shake the very foundation you walk on 

B****, You don't know my hands Part 1-4

• Part 1
• Part 2
• Part 3
• Part 4

AA4320 to KIN: B***, You don't know my hands - Part 2

Prelude: I went to lunch with coworkers and was part of a conversation that was in judgement of dancehall. The conversation went something like this. “You go to these dances and it’s amazing. The women are dressed like… And they have their hands on the floor… And they are dancing with a man who has them bent over. I mean it’s nothing I would ever do or you would ever do, but they do this, like, every week. I mean, Jake and I go and see this every Friday.”

This is part 2 of my response.

Keep Calm and Put Your Hands on the Floor 

Part 2

Don’t try

(To be me or see me)

Cause these hands

Have been taught

By generations of

Floor masters

Who are me

Just when you’ve figured out

Perspective shifts

Moves

Remove, reshape, recreate

A twerk becomes tweeted

I add a twit, lock, drop, and twist

Until

Newness emerges through my veins to my fists

To the smooth surface below

B****, You don't know my hands Part 1-4

• Part 1
• Part 2
• Part 3
• Part 4

Flight 2441 to PHX: Four hours of code

Techie girls rock. Sexy girls code. Nerdy girls turnup. Enough said

Reflections from a year ago: Temporarily trading passion for a reduction in income (5/25/14)

Most good journeys in the writing form start on a dirt road in Alabama. This is knowledge passed on by the great Oprah. I, on the other hand, was to busy to start there. I am on the verge of embarking on my "something new" as an expat consultant/entrepreneurship advisor, fuck this mundane life I'm at the beach extraordinaire. The kick off should have been on a dirt road in Alabama, but the best I could do was middle America. 

So I bought a notebook at Cracker Barrel in Lebanon, TN and started putting pen to paper. Though it's not ideal and there is no dirt road, I had to start somewhere.