Shannon Simone

TRUTH - #Frank Ocean

I finally got the chance to really read Frank Ocean’s ‘Thank You’ letter that is simultaneously his ‘Coming Out’ letter and his ‘Freedom’ letter…

As a truth teller and truth seeker I often question why people just can’t keep it real?  What is the big damn deal about being honest?  Then I have to remind myself of the few pieces of a story I purposely forgot to mention because it was for the best or the effort I sometimes make to actually consider someone’s feelings if I tell them MY truth as I see it.  Sometimes, the truth simply hurts and sometimes the truth can turn your world BLACK and have you blindly trying to find your way back to the light…asking yourself the whole time whether or not the light ever even existed.  But it always has and it always will…the light is in your heart and so is your truth.

Some people would rather live their entire lives as anyone other than who they were truly created to be because FEAR has gripped them and courage is a word that has no meaning.  I am happy for Frank Ocean and not because he came out and chose to no longer keep his sexual preference a secret.  Honestly, I could care less who people have sex with and the world should be so over caring by now.  I am happy for Frank Ocean because he was bold enough to be honest with himself, he made the choice to be who he was born to be, and the thoughts, opinions, and aftermath of him telling the truth is of no consequence to him.  All that matters is his personal freedom and ridding himself of a burdeon that is simply a matter of choosing to love someone - something we all do.  His choice is also beyond commendable considering that he is in the world of hip-hop - full of closeted liars that would rather sit on money stacks and pretend that big booty hos make their dicks hard, than live life as an individual free to just BE.  

I am happy Frank shared a love story.  Don’t we all know what it is like to love someone who doesn’t love you back?  Or stay with someone because you believe if you love them enough they will change and you’ll have your fairytale?  Frank’s love story, of his first love, just happened to be with a man.  The real story is that love is bigger than all of us and who we are is who we be.  Literally.  I can’t pretend to be someone I’m not; I can only work on freeing myself from carrying around what other people’s opinions may be because I am exactly who I am.  There will never be a day when I am alone in this world because I spoke my truth.  Once you believe that then peace has to be ever present.  

Frank will never be alone and he will be forever free to just BE.  If anything, his truth and his story of love and gratitude has only invited more people to LOVE.

Thank you, Frank Ocean.  Enjoy living and loving…

#ImperfectAngel

Now available to purchase for your Kindle!  Get it: HERE!

Turning 30: 30 Things Every Woman Should Have And Should Know

Came across this article and wondered if I have and/or know all that I should since I am now a woman of a certain age….

By 30, you should have …

1. One old boyfriend you can imagine going back to and one who reminds you of how far you’ve come. - I definitely have a dude the reminds me of how far I’ve come but do not have the one I can imagine EVER going back to…

2. A decent piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in your family. - YES!

3. Something perfect to wear if the employer or man of your dreams wants to see you in an hour. - *Coughs* Describe “perfect”…

4. A purse, a suitcase, and an umbrella you’re not ashamed to be seen carrying. -  I just stole an umbrella from my mother the last time I was at her house (yes Mommy, that blue one)…but I have a purse and a suitcase, so technically, I’m good.

5. A youth you’re content to move beyond. - Da hell does this mean?

6. A past juicy enough that you’re looking forward to retelling it in your old age. - Check!

7. The realization that you are actually going to have an old age — and some money set aside to help fund it. - If I live to be 80, I’m taking all my lady friends who are still alive to da club for my birthday - dranks on me senior bitches!

8. An email address, a voice mailbox, and a bank account — all of which nobody has access to but you. - DUH

9. A résumé that is not even the slightest bit padded. - Hmmmmmmmm……

10. One friend who always makes you laugh and one who lets you cry. - As long as I got one that lets me do both, I’m good, and fortunately for me….  Fortunate for them, I don’t cry…well maybe in my case I do what they call whine?

11. A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra. - *Home Improvement Grunt* Done. Done. and DONE.

12. Something ridiculously expensive that you bought for yourself, just because you deserve it. - Yeeeeeeeaaaaaahhhhhh buddy.

13. The belief that you deserve it. - Got it and them some.

14. A skin-care regimen, an exercise routine, and a plan for dealing with those few other facets of life that don’t get better after 30. - Well see, I mean I wash my face er’day.  Exercise routine?  Does dancing in da club count?  I’ll be working on dealing with life for as long as I have one.

15. A solid start on a satisfying career, a satisfying relationship, and all those other facets of life that do get better. - LOLOLOLOLOLOLOL!

By 30, you should know …

1. How to fall in love without losing yourself. - If what I did was fall in love, then hell to da muthafluffin yeah.  

2. How you feel about having kids. - NO DOUBT IN MY MIND

3. How to quit a job, break up with a man, and confront a friend without ruining the friendship. - Hahahahaha!  Fuck yeah on #1 and #2….#3, I’m a slow learner…

4. When to try harder and when to walk away. - Haven’t mastered this, but 1,000% better at knowing when and when.

5. How to kiss in a way that communicates perfectly what you would and wouldn’t like to happen next. - I’m not sure how to articulate what I think about this one so um….next

6. The names of the secretary of state, your great-grandmothers, and the best tailor in town. - I know the SOS, I know one great-grandmother, and if by tailor you mean I know the best place to go to buy shit that fits me in the first place so I don’t need a tailor, then yeah, I’m good.

7. How to live alone, even if you don’t like to. - I DO AND I LOVE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

8. Where to go — be it your best friend’s kitchen table or a yoga mat — when your soul needs soothing. - I actually do - it’s called “Bottle King” aka my favorite Discount Liquor Store.

9. That you can’t change the length of your legs, the width of your hips, or the nature of your parents. - Really?

10. That your childhood may not have been perfect, but it’s over. - WHOA….shut the fuck up Dr. Phil. 

11. What you would and wouldn’t do for money or love. - This requires real ponder-ation cuz it’s really easy to say shit if you’ve never been asked to do or not do some things that you may or may not do…

12. That nobody gets away with smoking, drinking, doing drugs, or not flossing for very long. - Yeah, I know.  Especially not flossing.  Gingivitis ain’t cute people.

13. Who you can trust, who you can’t, and why you shouldn’t take it personally. - As Maya Angelou told my Oprah, “when people show you who they are, believe them the first time.”  It’s hard not to take it personal, but I know why I shouldn’t.

14. Not to apologize for something that isn’t your fault. - TRUST me…I don’t, won’t, never have and never will.T

15. Why they say life begins at 30 - A to da Men!

Birthday Cake…

No, not the Rihanna song.  I’m talking about actual cake made from a box or from scratch that taste good while it is still in batter form.  I’m talking about deelish-us, soft, moist, tasty cake that comes in various flavors with various types of frosting and stuff.  I’m even talking about Ice Cream Cake.  Cake is just good…and for some reason, on your birthday, it’s even better.

Victoria Beckham or Posh Spice, as I still call her, had a big ass pile of fruit with chocolate writing on the sides of the plate for her birthday lunch/cake.  As I sit here eating a bag of Blenders Skittles (yellow bag) staring at her “fruit cake” I understand why I can’t and won’t ever be able to fit into her clothes.  I’m not eatin’ a pile of fruit for my birthday talkin bout “Birthday Lunch! What a lovely Day!!!”  If I got a pile a fruit (I don’t care how pretty they try to make it look) on my birthday, I would take a strawberry and wipe up the chocolate on the sides.  Then laugh and look at my loved ones and say, “ya’ll are hee-larious! Now bring me my damn cake.  Red Velvet with Cream Cheese frosting, please and thank you.”

Keep in mind that before I even got to the cake portion of my lunch, I would have hit up a seafood buff-et where I would only stop eating until I could no longer get up and make my own plates and I can literally feel my heart rate slowing down.  

That’s what I call a Birthday Lunch and Lovely Day.  But you know, I suffer from FGS (Fat Girl Syndrome), so I know why a pile o’ fruit ain’t gonna cut it and why my name ain’t Posh Spice.  You can call me Lawry’s tho…

(PS I know my sister is vomiting in her mouth as she reads this - obese thoughts/behaviors are not her thing. Heeeheeeeheee…and you know I put hot sauce on er’thing JC!) 

Social-Ass-Burgers

Seems it’s a rare disease, but I’ve been diagnosed and I’m not ashamed.  The symptoms vary, but they are strong, can be debilitating, and can make you miss out on pictures of your best friend’s new baby, which can cause a case of the sads.  The very small percentage of us who suffer from Social-Ass-Burger-Networking-Phobia manage to live normal lives, have an appreciation for traditional methods of communication - phone calls, personal emails, greeting cards, typed letters - and actually enjoy face-to-face interaction and conversations.  Unfortunately, we become annoyed, frustrated, overly flustered, and upset by the need to share our lives with hundreds, maybe thousands of people, who really only see us as a number that proves to others just how “popular” they are.

Saying hi to one person and asking how you are doing for all the world to see is incomprehensible, confusing, and can cause eye-rolling, side eye staring, glaring, and dry heaves.

There is no cure.  So what does a Social-Ass-Burger-Networking-Phobic person do when she has a book to sell (see Imperfect Angel) but it makes her physically ill participating in the spheres of social media?  TBD.

I can already hear the bullies saying “shut the fuck up bitch, don’t nobody want to social network witchoass anyway.”  Ditto, cyber bullies, ditto.

Imperfect Angel

Have you ever gone bungee jumping?  I haven’t, but I plan to…it’s on my bucket list.  If you were in a wheelchair, would you ever consider bungee jumping?  Would you even think it could be an option for you?  This lady did and watching her allowed me to give feeling to this feeling I’m feeling right now.

Today is a joyous and momentous day for me.  Today I announced that I have written and published my first book and I feel like that lady, in a wheelchair, bungee jumping.  Why do I feel like the wheelchair bungee jumper?  Because I love to write; writing is my best mode of expression.  I believe my writing talent is a gift that happens to come very naturally to me.  Like walking.  Imagine wishing your passion were your profession, that your passion were your life, but your fears, insecurities, confusion, and lack of confidence make you believe that making your dreams your reality is simple impossible.  In my book, that is paralysis.  Until one day, you wake up, change your state of being and think, fuck it.  I’m going to just do this shit — take the leap — and pray that the bungee cord can hold the weight of my wheelchair.  Just like the wheelchair bungee lady, I realized that I can only fail at what I don’t do.  In 2010 I chose to take the leap and I am so happy that I did.

I’m always writing, but once I decided to take the leap, I started writing a book.  I write the way I speak - in conversation format; I write exactly what I think, what I feel, what I witness, what I believe, and for some reason there is always an undertone of funny or witty sarcasm.  When I sat down to write Imperfect Angel, Angel Michaels, the protagonist of my novella, instantly started speaking.  She and I have lots in common so she wasn’t a foreign character.  In fact, I stole a few bits and pieces from my life to create the characters and the story lines…it just started coming.  

Angel Michaels is ringing in her thirtieth birthday all by her lonesome.  She doesn’t have a friend, she doesn’t have a boo thang, and everybody in her family is mad at her.  As she wallows in her lonely birthday celebration for one, she starts watching The Oprah Winfrey show and can’t nobody but Oprah tell you that you’re a loser and you need to get your shit together.  Angel takes heed and decides she is going to “get her life” as Tamar Braxton would say.  Through the process of finding herself, she finds out how and why she played such a pivotal role in her own mess; even more important, she discovers what kind of role she wants to play in cleaning it all up.  While dealing with her own issues and many-o-character along the way, she gets help in an unexpected form…but keep in mind, Angel is a hot mess and good for fuckin some shit up…you gotta read the book to find out what happens :)

So by the end of 2010 I was finished.  I literally checked “finish book” off my to-do list.  And then I didn’t look at it again.

It wasn’t until mid-2011, that one of my best friends - we’ll call her Shortie - said, “Bitch, are you ever going to write a book?”  and I said, “I did.  It’s on my laptop in a Word document.  I finished it months ago.”  She said, “Ummmm, so what the hell are you doing?!”  I said, “Well…I looked up literary agents, publishers…I don’t know how to write a good query letter because I don’t think anyone is going to want to read my book except my friends.  You guys get my language, but I don’t think the world will.  I’ll just keep sending you emails.”  She said, “I don’t want to read another email.  Get your book published.”  

I asked Shortie if she would read my draft.  She has to write as part of her profession, so you know, she can read and stuff, so I respected her input from that perspective.  But she is also one of the very few people that I not only trust, but one whom is VERY honest with me.  I knew she would offer feedback from a real place and not a “OMG this is so good just because you’re my best friend” place.  She read it and we actually had a session where she gave me some great insight - I took notes - and she made me believe that other people would be interested and actually like this story.  So I went back to work, made some updates, some edits, and made the decision to share my work with whomever would read it.  I decided that I would run my own show and handle my own business and let the cards fall where they may.

So now, it’s March 2012.  There are quite a few things in Imperfect Angel that are so two years ago, but I purposely chose to leave all of that in because that was the voice of Angel Michaels at the time that I had written her story.  The best part is that this is just the beginning of her story.  You’ll have to stay tuned.

I was asked what genre my book fits in and the truth is, I don’t know exactly.  I’m a young thirty-something Black woman, I write about life from a Black woman’s perspective, my characters are Black, but everything that happens or is experienced within the life of my characters is simply human.  Something we can all relate to.  Male, female, Black and Yellow.  I know for sure that as great as I think my writing is and as great as I know it will be, unfortunately, I am not telling anybody that I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.  So no, not that genre.  I will say that maybe there is a tiny dose of What Looks Like Crazy on an Ordinary Day but in reality, the genre is Shannon Simone - you either love it or you don’t.  Shout out to my Spelman Sister, Pearl Cleage.  Ms. Cleage, if you ever read this post and/or my book, please don’t be offended.

Anyhoo, cheers to me for bungee jumping in my wheelchair, and continuing to be the go-getter, goal-setter, goal-achiever, and self-believer that I am.  Cheers to you for rockin’ wit me on this journey.  Let’s get it.

You can purchase Imperfect Angel HERE or HERE!

Whitney Houston is Gone? Yes, She Is.

You know, when I hear that Etta James has passed, I read all I can about her just to remind me of why she is a legend, I listen to “At Last” and think one day, that song will not just be one of the best love songs ever sung, but it may actually have meaning in my life cuz at last my love may actually come around.  But I’m never sad because I knew she was battling illness for a while and she lived a pretty long and full life.  When I hear that Amy Winehouse is dead, I say “damn it Wino!” and I’m pissed because I know we ALL saw this coming.  I mean, the last time we all saw the twenty-seven year old, she was on stage attempting her comeback in her dirty and tattered ballet slippers, her infamous beehive hair-do on a serious slant and her hair in general looking as if it is immune to shampoo, her tiny outfit is baggy on her heroine non-chic frame, but more importantly, she was falling all over the stage, slurring her words, and incapable of performing. There was no surprise, but the feelings of disappointment lingered because she made some dope music but we’ll never know how dope she really could have been.

But when I hear Whitney Houston is dead, my body went numb and my brain seemed to stop working.  I’m watching the news report but I can’t seem to process just what the fuck is being said.  ”Whitney Houston is dead at forty-eight” is just not registering.  What.the.fuck?!  Of course, we can say Whitney’s been a crack head for umpteen years and this is clearly the end result, but for some people, as wack as crack is, you think they are super human and somehow will never succumb.  Whitney Houston was super human to me.

Whitney Houston is probably my favorite singer of all time.  I feel like I know Whitney, we all do.  When you talk about sangin’ and you say Whitney, you already know what’s good.  You know you are talking about one of the best to ever do it and one of the best that ever will.  You know when you hear someone else try to sing a Whitney song - didn’t everybody think they could sing Greatest Love of All - you give that person the side-eye during their entire performance and even if they smash it, you say, I mean, it wasn’t Whitney, but it was good.

Listing all of Whitney’s hits would take forever, but I can tell you that I was like six years old singing How will I know if he really loves me?  or singing to anyone who will listen that You give good love to me.  I used to stare at her on the cover of her Whitney album - we would play that album over and over again - with her hair curly and white tank top on knowing there was something special about her.  As a little girl I wasn’t mesmerized with her because I thought she was gorgeous or a princess, I was simply in love with her voice.  Her music moved me - literally.  I Wanna Dance (With Somebody Who Loves Me) was my jam!  When I was singing and dancing to that song I felt like I was in the video and I was part of it all and I really did want to dance with somebody.  Her songs made me believe I could sing.  I can’t.  Not at all.  But if Whitney is on, you betta ask somebody cuz I’m about to kill it.

I’m Your Baby Tonight is my favorite Whitney album.  Probably because it wasn’t my parent’s album that we had to play on the record player in the living room, but it was the first album I got on cassette tape and it was all mine that I could listen to in my room or take with me and play on my Walkman.  If someone called my name - even if they said it correctly - I would use it as a reason to bust out singing My Name is Not Susan.  When the Bodyguard Soundtrack came out, I played the CD so much it broke.  You couldn’t tell me I wasn’t the Queen of the Night.  And the Waiting to Exhale soundtrack - it wasn’t all Whitney but it was all Whitney.  Shoop.  Sigh…I could go on, but we all know that most all of Whitney’s work is filled with classics that stir up memories - happy memories.  You know where you were and who you were with when you think about all that was Whitney.

WHY???!!!  I’m just not ready to be talking about Whitney being gone.  This is the woman who sang the best rendition of the damn Star Spangled Banner of all time.  OF ALL TIME.  When she sang the Star Spangled Banner at the Super Bowl (the Giants won that one too) she had people feeling goose bumps and brought people to tears.  I don’t know about you, but I went to school with all Black people and from that point on and for years after that, we didn’t play the Star Spangled Banner unless it was the Whitney version.  Not only that, once I was old enough to make the choice not to stand up or place my hand over my heart for this country that doesn’t give a fuck about me, nor my people, and never has, I couldn’t help but sing the damn song when she was singing it.  I wanted to sing the song like Whitney!!!  She made me want to be a lil patriotic.  Just a lil bit and that is a whole lot in my book.

Of course not long after that, Whitney got with Bobby Brown and we all scratched our heads on that one.  We didn’t really know that Whitney was from Newark, New Jerz and she was as hood as the day is long.  People thought Bobby was the “bad boy” but what people didn’t know was that Whitney was ghetto as hell.  But so what, she was still DOPE.  She was every woman and we loved her.  Even when the drugs took over and she and Bobby had domestic situations - I do remember thinking it was not a good look for her to be running and jumping into Bobby’s arms after he was released from jail or leaving the courtroom or whatever the hell.  And then came the Being Bobby Brown reality show.  Not a good look at all but the most sadly entertaining shit ever.  What are we gonna do now Bobbaaaaaay?!!!  

I wish Bobbi Kristina didn’t look exactly like her father, but I really wish Whitney Houston, her mom, was not dead.  She just finished filming the Sparkle re-make and from the pictures of she and Jordin Sparks on the set, it looked like she was looking good, feeling good and on her way back to glory.  I knew she would never be Whitney from her younger ridiculously off the chain vocal days, but I still liked her last album I Look to You.  Yes, I pop it and drop it when I hear “If he makes you feel like a million dollar bill say…” and when I need some inspiration in my life I turn on I Didn’t Know My Own Strength.  There is a part in that song where you know it is the “tear it up” part and she tries, but she can’t take it there anymore.  It’s obvious, however, even at her less best, she is better than the majority of these fakers.

Anyway, as of now there is no cause of death and the news is still new news on why Whitney Houston is dead.  I didn’t know what else to do but write.  When I learned of Michael Jackson’s death I was in Chicago with one of my best friends and we just stared at the TV all day.  It was a circus and it just seemed unreal and neither one of us really knew what to do but keep watching.  When it finally sunk in that Michael was gone, I had my moment of grief and actually still have my moments when I think about him, but a huge part of me felt like Michael needed peace and rest and it was OK that his time had come.  He had given us EVERYTHING since he was in pre-school and really, I don’t think Michael even got to go to pre-school.  He probably gave us too much.  I watched This is It, like we all did, and he seemed like he was ready to give us more, but while his heart was in it, I think his body and mind were done.  So I just live with knowing that during my birthday (Michael’s birthday is the day before mine) I will always have a BLAST celebrating because forever more, there will always be a Michael tribute with every club playing all of his best all night.  I love nothing more than celebrating making it another year while dancing my ass of to Michael Jackson.

It’s not time for Whitney Houston tributes in honor of her passing.  While I think it was Michael’s time, I don’t believe it was time for Whitney to go.  I truly feel like she had more work to do here.  Whitney had more living to do; she was supposed to outlast them all.  I guess if Whitney were to leave us, leave it to her to leave in diva style.  The Grammy’s are tomorrow and now they are going to re-work the whole show to make sure it’s all about her.  And it will be.  It’s always been, Whitney.

I will always love you, Whitney Elizabeth Houston.  Rest now.