Keeping It Real?

Dear Arbiters of Blackness,

The Blacker than Thou lobby is designed not only to shape and define a people, but also to demand a certain kind of conformity from them - forcing its members to swear allegiance to their side. With that, my new Intake column is up where I question the idea of what it means to “Keep it Real”.

Love,

Maurice (go to my website to direct your hate mail)

P.S.

I was interviewed for a new blog by my friend Lisa Baker that will reflect on various environmental issues, concerns, and events from a spiritual perspective. I was asked about my actual day job, as an environmental toxicologist for Commonwealth Biomonitoring. If you’re so inclined, you can read it here.


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Black Self-Image

A teenage girl stirred up quite a bit of controversy with her documentary re-creating Dr. Clark’s doll test that was used to make the case against segregation (in Brown vs. the Board of Education). The results of her experiment every are every bit as tragic today as it was in the 60s. Something in our culture still propagates this destructive (self-)image.

There was a reason for Amiri Baraka having to start a “Black is beautiful” movement and a reason why Ossie Davis said in his eulogy of Malcolm X, “Malcolm was our manhood, our living, black manhood! This was his meaning to his people.” It was about the reclamation of dignity. As the documentary makes painfully obvious, it is important to continue to have conversations and ask questions.

We continue to have debates about racism (what it is and how it affects people differently), reparations, affirmative action and so on. Too many times it is seen as black people wallowing in self-pity, a mentality of victimhood (although some folks also feel threatened by the rhetoric of escaping this victimhood). There is an assumed hubris of knowing the “answers” to the “Negro problem” because, as I will inevitably hear it, black people are too ignorant to work out our own solution.

It’s usually at this point in the conversation that white friends of mine feel unduly put upon. “They didn’t own slaves” and so on. They sometimes get defensive around discussions about white privilege. Why? Because the tricky part about conversations is that we aren’t always hearing the same thing. White privilege is not “all white people are evil.” It is not that all white people are out to get black people. It is not all white people are racist or “benefit” from racism. It is, however, the acknowledgment of the reality that there is a legacy of racism.

I don’t care if you agree with it or not. What I am saying is that there is a point of view, a mindset, a perspective that I’m coming from. Our story is the paradigm from which we operate. You might not “get it”, maybe because your story seems so removed from mine. You could see if you could contribute to the solution. You could see what you can do to challenge your thinking. You could see where you can find and recognize injustice and fight it where you are.

Or you could listen.

Let me try this another way. There is also male privilege in our culture. It doesn’t mean all men are evil or that they hate women. It does, however, point to the (historical) fact that the mentality that went into the founding of our society, that created the infrastructure of the culture we live in, was patriarchal. There is a legacy of patriarchal though that we have to deal with, systemic issues as well as heart issues - neither of which are easily rooted out. From closing the inequality of pay gap between the sexes to sexist attitudes in the work place as “old boy clubs/networks” are dismantled.

It’s the (sometimes perceived) attitude built into the system that causes so many to give up before they begin. It’s why I care so much about images and depictions of black people in news, movies, television, etc. It’s why I keep harping on the power of words. It’s why my mother so impressed upon us why we shouldn’t buy into being told what we can and can’t do. Look at the recent rise of black quarterback. It’s not like black people suddenly learned how to throw the football. The mentality was that black men weren’t smart enough to be a quarterback. So they were steered towards being a wide receiver or a running back. You don’t become “firsts” by buying into old stereotypes and accepting old barriers.

Progress has been made, but some battles still need to be fought. Hearts changed and lingering hatreds rooted out. This year’s Super Bowl marks the first time a black coach (much less two) has coached their team to the championship game. Lovie Smith, when asked about the significance of possibly being the first said that “Progress will really be made when something like this is not news.” The sad fact that he had to then concede was that “we’re not there yet.”

But we’re trying. One conversation at a time.


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Go Colts!

Well, I got one of my Indianapolis Wish List items: the Colts made it to the Super Bowl. The question before me now is will the Colts win the big game?

I could talk about the running tandem of Joseph Addai and Dominic Rhodes or the money of Adam Vinatieri’s leg. I could talk about this being a team of character and heart, how we’ve gotten rid of grumblers and bad eggs and have only become stronger. I could talk about the defense finding new life after being told by so many that they couldn’t. However, that would require the kind of sports expertise beyond my casual brand of interest. To my mind, though, this game boils down to two men: Dungy and Manning.

Coach Tony Dungy joined Chicago Bear’s coach, Lovie Smith, in making Super Bowl history by being the first black coaches to lead their teams to the Super Bowl. One more barrier broken, another cultural advancement achieved - and another step toward this not being an issue. In the NFL, where nearly 70 percent of the players are black, only seven of 32 head coaches this season were black. The NFL has aggressively fought for diversity and their efforts have paid off. Save me your blather about affirmative action, covert racism is something difficult to root out. People are people and still cling to those they are comfortable with. We aren’t quite to the colorblind utopia we all hope for and keep talking about. Should either of these two friends, Lovie or Tony, win, we will be one step, on a still long journey, closer.

QB Peyton Manning has finally proven he can win the big game. In the AFC Championship game, he exorcized a lot of demons. He came from 18 points down, went through arch-rivals: coach Bill Belichick, QB Tom Brady, and the rest of the New England Patriots. However, he is still an elite quarterback haunted by the ghosts of Dan Marino: incredible individual talent that has yet to win the championship ring. He has nothing left to prove to his critics, but he is in need of the last measure of greatness. Should Manning win the Super Bowl, however, everyone should shut up.

I like our chances. In the end, I just want Dungy and Manning with championship rings to signify what we already know. They are men of integrity, passion, and greatness. Of prodigious talent and quiet dignity. Part of a team who play the game and win the way they should. And they can do it on the largest stage available. In other words, go Colts!


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To Pen Name or Not to Pen Name

My friend, Simon Wood, recently wrote over on Murderati about him “splitting” his writing career by starting to write under a pen name. That got me thinking about whether or not I or any author should choose pen names and when they should do that...

Continued on Blogging in Black: "To Pen Name or Not to Pen Name."


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Friday Night Date Place - Break Ups Part III: Forgiving

(Or “Did God mean I have to forgive them, too?”)

(a.k.a. Keepin’ the hate)

I'm very quick to forgive, or to offer apologies, when offense is given or taken. Forgiveness is an emotional lubricant and a learning opportunity, at least for me. As mentioned before, it's important to me to get along with people, and I am genuinely horrified when having given offense, most especially the unintended kind. But long-term forgiveness, when, for example, someone has a change of heart, can be a real challenge for me.

How often have we gotten out of a relationship, a bad break up, and it not been clean? He did you wrong. She cheated on you. He hurt you. She tore out your heart. Somewhere along the line, the two of you got lost in a spiral of betrayal, anger, hurt, and even hate. Then we wear the scars into our next relationship. However, at some point we have to wrestle with what it means to best love one another. This includes forgiving one another.

During the grieving of the relationship, the mourning time allows us to process the hurt and lessons of a relationship. We often think of forgiveness as something that someone who has done us wrong must ask of us. It is much harder to offer forgiveness to the person who has wronged you, especially if they haven’t asked for it or won’t hear it; but forgiveness is a gift you give to yourself.

It is tempting to hold on to the anger, resentment and the sense of betrayal that may come with a break up, but you can’t keep holding onto things that happened in the past. It only leads to problems with the health of your future relationships. It’s like we get stuck in an emotional rut.

Scripture teaches us that we must forgive, because Christ forgave us. India.Arie sings “If Jesus can forgive crucifixion; surely we can survive and find a resolution.” I do not know if we can ever recapture our friendship, but we can ensure that there is no resentment between us. Forgiveness does not happen in a moment. It’s a process. Today, I choose to begin that process. The completion of that journey will not happen tomorrow or next week, but hopefully soon.

There are times when we are called to be a peacemaker. Let’s not forget that our former Significant Other was a part of your life. You carved out time for them, carved out space for them, they became part of your routine. Sometimes we have to villify the other person in order to move on, or more precisely, have a sense of moving on. We burn the bridge so that we don’t, or aren’t tempted to, keep going over and over it again. Yet it may be more healthy for us to forgive in order for us to move on.

Look, forgiveness is a choice, not always an easy one, but “forgive and forget” is a lie we tell ourselves. You’re much better off believing in forgive and remember; forgive and learn; as long as you forgive and move on. Moving on, any kind of transformation, is a process and the power of forgiveness and love is in the process: starting with absolute honesty (confession), owning up to what you have done, your part in things. Acknowledging that what you have done doesn’t define you. And then letting it go, as forgiveness opens the door for a new beginning.

Forgiveness doesn’t mean a restoration of the relationship. Sometimes the loving thing is to walk away. “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.” (Romans 12:18) As much as I’d like to conveniently toss out the words of the apostle Paul, we’re to try our best to live at peace with one another.

Jesus’ forgiveness is a living parable that teaches God’s forgiveness is not dependent on our worthiness, ability, or even our deeds of repentance. It is completely a product of God’s grace. “I, even I, am the One who wipes out your transgressions for my own sake; And I will not remember your sins” (Isaiah 43:25).

You’ve been forgiven (by God) and need to move on. Forgive them and move on. And don’t forget to forgive yourself. And move on.


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The Catheter Incident

The last two weeks of Grey’s Anatomy have been particularly uncomfortable to watch. It’s my wife’s favorite show and she forgot to warn me about it One of the storylines featured a character who had a form of severe scoliosis. I had scoliosis and had to have surgery to correct it. It’s been 20 years now and I still remember the surgery like it was yesterday. Particularly what I will refer to as “the catheter incident.”

My parents began having me checked for scoliosis in fourth grade. Every year I got checked out and every year I was told that there was a slight curvature but “we’d” keep an eye on. Well, one year “we” decided that some time between the previous year and that year, the curve went from slight to “in need of surgery to correct”. I was fifteen years old.

The night before the surgery, the doctor and nurse come in to go over the procedure of the next day. The briefly mentioned something about a catheter and moved on to issues of anaesthesia, recovery, etc. Since I was more concerned about the risks of paralysis, I never stopped to ask about what exactly this “catheter” thing was.

The next morning, 5 in the morning (since time has little meaning in a hospital), a nurse comes in to begin all of the pre-op stuff they had to do. She ended with, “I’ll be back to put in your catheter.” When she comes in, she has the “stuff” and let’s me know that it was time to put in the catheter. So I open my mouth.

“What are you doing?”
“You have to put in my catheter, right?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s like taking my temperature, right?”
“Not exactly. This,” she pointed to the tubing, “has to go, in there.”

I didn’t like where she pointed next.

“You’re kidding.” I started to laugh, waiting for the Candid Camera guy to pop out (hey, this was nearly 20 years before Punk’d).
“No. Didn’t someone explain this to you?”
“Obviously not clear enough. That’s thicker than a pencil and there’s no way THAT is going THERE.” Not to mention, THERE, sensing a threat, was begin to experience what we’ll refer to as a “turtling effect”. “Can’t you put me to sleep to put it in?”
“No. And we don’t have all day. The sooner we get started, the sooner it will be over.”
Apparently she underestimated my resolve.

Now, I’m not exactly proud of the next few moments. It began with the nurse grabbing THERE and my foot reflexively responding to "push away" the threat. Then came the chase, which involved me running around my bed in a desperate bid to keep THAT from going THERE. Apparently there was some girl-like yelling involved because my mother popped her head in to ask what the problem was. The nurse explained the situation and my mom, also being a nurse, quickly got the picture. My mom turned to me and assured me “I’ll handle this,” then walked the nurse outside. She came back in a few minutes later and told me that they had come to a different arrangement and there was nothing to worry about. I needed to get back into bed until the doctor arrived.

My mother. My savior.

I got back into bed and asked “what sort of arrangements?”

My mother then jumped on my chest and yelled “Got him!” The nurse rushed in while my mother had me pinned to the bed. Then the nurse quickly and roughly, in part a payback for the kick, put THAT ... THERE.

It was the longest morning of my life.

Luckily, the surgery went picture perfect. I even got used to the catheter thing. Sure, I had the occasional hospital visitor make fun of it, but I began thinking of it as an extension of me. I even began listing practical uses for it. Why? Because it was in now and in case you missed that part about me living by a code, no one was messing with THERE if I could help it. New rod along my spine or no, I still had two feet that said no nurse would be messing with me. So when the nurse came in with gloves on and that “I don’t want to have to do this” look on her face, I told her that THAT was simply going to have to come home with me. She left for a few minutes, then came back and said “fine, do what you want. It’s not worth the hassle anyway.”

Just then, the phone rang.

“Hello.”
“Hey son.”
“Hey mom. What’s up?”
“Yeah, sorry about this.”

At which point the nurse grabbed THERE and whisked THAT out of me to the sound of another girl-ish scream that sounded like her soul was being removed. Thus endeth the catheter incident. Ironically enough, a childhood friend of mine was due to have the exact same surgery as me the following weekend. Same doctor, same hospital. Oddly enough, they put him to sleep before they put THAT ... THERE.

Sort of put a damper on this song, doesn’t it? All this because I'm about to sit down and what this week's episode ... with one eye open.


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Responsibility of the Artist

A few ideas have been running through my head about the nature of how ideas are propagated and disseminated in our culture. I’ve been mulling over the “food chain” of ideas:

-philosophers/theologians/scientists - the generators of ideas, of new ways of looking at reality

-artists - the communicators of those ideas, transmitting them to the (pop) culture at large.

-audience/culture - consumers of those ideas

Discuss.

In the meantime, my column for Intake. “Living Life in Light of Death.”


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Broaddus Family Scares

My wife bit my head off the other morning.

Not that this is so unusual that I considered it blog worthy, but this time I was actually not guilty of anything. In fact, I was pretty pleased with myself because I had taken it upon myself to do all of the laundry as a surprise for my wife. I’m a bit of a night owl, and in a combination of mania and procrastination from a writing deadline, I washed all the dirty clothes in the house. Six loads worth. She woke up to baskets of folded clothes.

That isn’t why she bit my head off.

Well, the next day, my wife blew up, not in a biting my head off way, but in a “why am I so swollen” way. Huge red splotches covered her body. She itched, was uncomfortable, and couldn’t sleep. Now, you have to understand, my wife is allergic to just about everything. Fish, pollen, grass, water (she’s on special medication: there’s something in tap water she’s allergic to. Without the medication, a shower leaves her looking like she was attacked by a swarm of bees). Me, I have no allergies. I can roll around naked in poison ivy.

Through some detective work, she found out the source of her allergies. Our laundry detergent apparently switched formulas on us, a new color safe bleach alternative. This all led to her having to go to the doctor to do something about the severity of her reaction. The last time her body went so crazy was when we found out that she was pregnant with our second child, which is how we found out we were expecting so early.

It was at this point when the doctor explained that we were going to have to test to see if she was pregnant. You see, my wife got fixed soon after the birth of our second son (and, for the record, she loves it when I refer to her procedure as “getting fixed”. I’m guaranteed not to hear about that one). However, we’ve all heard the stories: how you can have your tubes “fried, tied, and laid to the side and still find yourself pregnant inside” (thank you, my o so supportive brother-in-law). Did I mention that she was two months “late”?

Which was when I got my head bit off.

The merest suggestion of the possibility of more kids put her in a bad mood. She got fixed for a reason. We were pretty set in staying at two. A lot of thought went into the decision. For one thing, the reality of children killed the dream of children. When we first got married, I said that I would like to have five children, enough for a starting basketball squad (ironic considering that I suck at basketball). After our first was born, I told my wife that I would be content with three kids. Then after our second, I informed her that I was done. (She, however, always had the number two in mind and simply waited for me to come to my senses).

The thing about going from two kids to three, is that you have to go from a man-to-man defense to a zone defense. I love my kids, but I know me and I know how much time I can effectively give to my children. Two isn’t dividing my attention and I can usually outsmart two brains. I can still get free babysitters with two, even people VOLUNTEERING to watch my two. The odds greatly decrease once you hit three and I’m not trying to be stuck at home all the time with the kids. Plus, I still cling to the dream of affordable family vacations.

It’s why I have crazy respect for single parents and families who have no other hobbies than breeding.

Not that we wouldn’t have loved a third child, we had merely gotten comfortable with our routine and you know how people get with their plans, especially with the threat of those carefully laid plans being disrupted. Anyway, I give my wife enough reasons to bite my head off with the two that we have.


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I Love Sin Taxes ...

... as long as you aren’t taxing my sins of choice. There is an old saying that, "if you want less of something, tax it." That is the rationale for "sin taxes," high taxes on things like cigarettes and booze, although there are “sins” we like, such as gambling. So why the rant today?

The Republican governor's plan calls for covering at least 120,000 low-income adults by hiking cigarette taxes by at least 25 cents per pack. It is one of six or more proposals being considered by the Democrat-controlled House as it wrestles with how to provide insurance to the estimated 850,000 Indiana residents who now lack it.

Our governor is attempting to push through his version of an “extort Peter to pay for Peter’s eventual costs on society” tax scheme. On the surface it seems like we’re trying to kill two (good) birds with one (questionable) stone: find a way to fund an insurance for those who don’t have it (good) and lower the amount of folks who smoke (good). As a way of changing people’s behavior, it’s a start, I guess. We’ve been waging our war on smokers for a long time. You can tell it’s a real war because we haven’t “officially” declared war on them. They just woke up one day under siege and treated like second class citizens. They can no longer smoke in restaurants (because we apparently decided that restaurants were making too much money). But like I said, just don’t attack MY sins. I’m not a smoker and I appreciate being able to breathe free in restaurants, so I’m not complaining too loudly. The government hasn’t come for me. Yet.

Actually, we might as well raise the price of cigarettes a dollar a pack. A quarter isn’t going to deter anyone, not even that fifteen year old who is thinking about picking up the habit (and isn’t that who we do these things for? The children?). The smokers I know would pay the extra dollar, because they’re addicted. And it’s the state’s role to exploit the addicted and the ignorant (need I mention the lottery thing again?)

It becomes harder and harder to call myself a Republican because I’m not seeing any clear delineation between the parties much anymore. If we’re against taxes, we should want to see taxes go down across the board wherever we can. What happened to “the desire to return power and control of our economic resources to the grass roots people of this country. THAT is our agenda. It is not a money agenda. It is the moral agenda of self-government.”? What happened to seeing taxes as a moral issue, governmental racketeering and money laundering with tax cuts merely the State giving us back the money we’ve earned?

At this rate, and by this rationale, I’m surprised that the government hasn’t legalized “soft” drugs, like marijuana, and prostitution if only to tax them. Those would seem to be consistent with this line of thinking. I’m sure it won’t stop there. Frankly, I keep waiting on the transfat tax, especially in the land of State Fairs. Come on, right now there are redneck scientists in their basements trying to deep fry something new to debut this year (we’ve had deep fried Twinkies, chocolate covered strawberries, moon pies. However, I’m here to testify, deep fried Snicker bars will be served in heaven.)

However, in the final analysis, nothing is free. Not health care, not education, not any of the things that government has to do. And the money has to come from somewhere. In the ideal system, everyone would pay their fair share. In our world, we seem to want more from those who have more (the rich) and those who “benefit” more from the system (the poor). Nothing about that seems particularly fair to me. But hey, I’m in the middle somewhere and you aren’t taxing my sins. Yet.


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American Idol: the Editor’s Dilemma

If the American Idol auditions are like writers submitting their stories to a slush pile, then that would make the judges the equivalent of editors. I want the record to reflect that I want all of my editors to be as drunk as Paula Abdul when reading my stories (you hear that Sizemore?!? You too, Puglisi!). Let me tell you, if I had to read the equivalent of these auditions as slush, I’d be drinking, too. Heavily.

What kills me is how frivolously some people take their opportunities, though I try to take the American Idol auditions with a grain of salt since, after all, they are mostly teenagers. Here you have judges dressed like normal people and you have people showing up in costume in the name of standing out. If we want to talk about being professional, this is the same as sending in your manuscript on colored paper or sticking glitter in the envelope.

Here’s the thing, editors have a job to do. Just as the Simon Cowell et. al. are searching for the most marketable talent, editors are trying to find stories they want to publish. They have magazines, anthologies, and web space to fill and want to find the best stories to do so. They especially want to be the ones to break new talent. They aren’t the enemy and aren’t out to get you. Realize that you are not the exception: read the guidelines and submit your best work. Sure, you might get a rejection letter from them, but if you’re lucky, you will get feedback from them also. Feedback aimed at why your story didn’t work for them and how you can make your story better.

So then how do we as artists respond to our judges, critics, or editors having to reject us? Too many are quick to respond with “they don’t know what they’re doing. They’re a frustrated [insert vocation of choice]”. Worse, they put that response in print and hit the send button (much less those who do it on camera on American Idol), fearless as to how many bridges they may burn, due to their lack of professionalism, in the process. We have to remember, it is only that editor’s opinion that matters ... but only for that market. (And it’s funny how we respect/crave their opinion before the audition/submission, but their opinion holds no water should you flop). To quote Nick Mamatas from a Shocklines discussion:

I don't think musicians or fine artists or automotive manufacturers or chefs should respond to their critics either, except insofar as defamation may be at issue (e.g., a review claiming that a safe car is unsafe). The reasons are simple:

1. It doesn't matter. What can one say? "No, my book is scary! My flavor pairing were appropriate! My car does make your penis feel larger!" There will be no persuasion, so one may as well save one's energy.

2.The public has a right of response and responses will always be varied. There's no substance to negative complaints about the response because of this diversity of response.

Now, reviews can be poorly written, and God knows that in genre fiction they frequently are, and the public has a right of response there too. But when the only complaints one can make is about reviews of one's own work, it becomes transparently obvious that one is just whining and cares nothing about reviewing itself as an art or craft. A writer can respond to reviews as a reader of reviews, and talk about reviews generally, but shouldn't complain about his reviews.

If you have to respond, and I mean, if the voices in your head won’t leave you alone until you say something to your reviewer, at least keep it to e-mail (actually, it’d be best if you wrote that e-mail, printed it out, and put it in your trash can). What you really don’t want to do is go to message boards griping about your review. You will only look like a cry-baby (and you can probably consider that reviewer site dead to you).

American Idol" judges Simon Cowell, Randy Jackson and Paula Abdul say they're no crueler than usual this year, and that people who audition should know what they're going to get.

I imagine that editors reading a slush pile probably do sound a lot like Simon. Thank God I’m not actually at ground zero when they are reading my stories. All I have to put up with is the occasional self-addressed stamped envelope with a rejection letter in it. (And I know how to take rejections, even from friends.) At their first stop, the judges picked 17 people to move on to the next round out of 10,000 applicants. That’s a worse average than most slush piles (where, at the risk of antagonizing yet another editor before I submit to them), where it’s close to 1 story in 100 moving up the editorial ladder. Our job as writers is to be that 1 in 100.


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American Idol: the Writer’s Dilemma

So because we run Creative Space on Tuesday nights, it fell on our family to record the season premiere of American Idol so that some of the participants would be able to still feed their addiction. We can sacrifice many things in the name of ministry, but not American Idol. My wife and my sister, who love the show (and, frankly, far too much reality television) would never let me hear the end of it.

Welcome to my corner of hell.

Anyway, suffering through another season of A.I., I was once again struck by the similarities between the whole audition process and submitting a story for publication. In fact, I concluded that watching the auditions is the equivalent to reading a slush pile.

This season, like in seasons past, we were baffled by the amount of people who don’t recognize their own lack of talent. Granted, they might be tone deaf, but you would think that they would have friends or family who weren’t. How do people who claim to like you not inform you that you are the worse thing to happen to, well, sound? It could be chalked up to an inflated sense of self (the end result of going through life with people coddling each other’s self-esteem), it just seemed interesting that (plants aside), the worse the singer, the more adamant they are that they are good. Or it could be as simple as people hearing what they want to hear. I ran across an interesting study from Cornell.

... according to his research, most incompetent people do not know that they are incompetent. On the contrary. People who do things badly, Dunning has found in studies conducted with a graduate student, Justin Kruger, are usually supremely confident of their abilities -- more confident, in fact, than people who do things well.

This deficiency in ``self-monitoring skills,'' the researchers said, helps explain the tendency of the humor-impaired to persist in telling jokes that are not funny, of day traders to repeatedly jump into the market -- and repeatedly lose out -- and of the politically clueless to continue holding forth at dinner parties on the fine points of campaign strategy.

Part of screwing together the easy courage to stand in an audition line (or write and submit a story for publication) stems from the idea, spoken or not, that anyone can do it. Anyone can sing. Anyone can write. Not everyone can do so well (contrary to the evidence proffered by the number of crap CDs and books churned out each year). I don’t know what the writer’s equivalent to tone deafness would be. Maybe believing that everything you write is gold. Maybe it’s the inability to take constructive criticism.

Whenever a contestant begins by naming their credentials, essentially the same as a writer’s submission cover letter, and they can only list things like “I’ve had ten years of training” or “I’ve been doing (singing in this case) all of their life”, all I hear is the writing career equivalent: “I’ve been giving away my stories on the Internet”, “I’ve paid a company to publish my story”. All the lies we’ve bought into in the name of garnering exposure.

Interestingly enough, the last stage in the process is the part that counts the most: the actual product music itself. All the gimics, persona, and costumes in the world aren’t going to help you if in the final analysis, you have little to no discernible talent. Artists of all stripes need to find their own, distinct voice. Not picking up an affectation or doing a pale imitation of another artist. It has to be more than karaoke (the writing equivalent might be fanfic).

If nothing else, respecting the audition process should teach all aspiring artists to make the most of opportunities when they come up, be they auditions, pitch sessions, or new markets. Take them seriously and professionally. Be yourself, be confident, but let your work speak for itself, because in the end, it does.


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Friday Night Date Place - Smother Much?

Relationships have certain milestones. The first date. The first kiss. Meeting the folks. Markers that indicates an ever deepening of the relationship. I get that folks get all these romantic notions about relationships, and try to live out all the ideas they’ve had stored up in their heads about how relationships should work.

Now, can I ask you something? When should one person back the heck off?

There were times when I was known to power date in my day. I was in one relationship where we’d do 6-8 hour dates five times a week. Actually, five times in one week. Here’s a shock, we got burned out on each other. You know what? It’s easy to smother a person. We become eager to be around them, want to spend time with them, rarely do we stop to think about how much is too much. A lot of times it’s for seemingly good reasons, but there can still be shadows of pressure when:

-they may want to constantly take care of you
-they may want to see you all the time
-they may want to call you all the time
-they may not be able to get enough of you
-they may want to talk about marriage a couple times a week

Look, I doubt I am unusual in this, but I need me some me time. You probably need some you time. At the very least, go away so that I can miss you and better appreciate the time we have together. No one should have to get to the point where they loathe hearing the phone ring for fear that it might be you.

People move at different relational speeds and they aren’t always on the same page, which is one reason why channels of communication are so important and need to be always open. You need to mention when you’re feeling smothered. If they don’t know, they don’t have the opportunity to do anything about it.

There might be some hurt and some awkwardness, but it’s always best to maintain clear lines of communications. Admit how you feel. Above all, just talk. Don’t feel guilty that you and your significant other aren’t at the same emotional place. There will be times you are more into the relationship and there will be times your S.O. will be more into things. You aren’t in a race. Dating should be enjoyed. It is the process of getting to know each other. It shouldn’t be rushed. Give it room to breathe.


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No Solicitation

Sometimes I miss our old neighborhood. Sure, it had its issues, but I never had to worry about vacuum salesmen coming to our door. The occasional Jehovah’s Witness (heck, yeah I let them in. They brought a turkey.) or a Mormon (admittedly, this time I answered the door in my underwear and kept asking about their nursery). Maybe the occasional meat guy (what do you mean you’ve never had a guy come to your door selling meat out of his trunk?). Never a vacuum salesmen.

I’ve answered the phone as my own German maid. I’ve been the house-sitter and explained that “Maurice was off in the Olympics” (and was pressed for what events so they could watch me). My wife used to chide me because sometimes I’d just randomly take calls (yes, we have caller id) knowing they were sales calls just to chat with folks sometimes. I kept one AT&T on the line for an hour and a half. I did end up buying something from her because I felt a little guilty on that one.

Anyway, here’s the new Intake column. “No Solicitation.”


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Squadron Supreme

Writer: J. Michael Straczynski
Artist:
Publisher: Marvel MAX

There does seem to be a bit of a convergence of ideas, a trend of superheroes submitting to (or registering themselves for) government oversight. This is probably a commentary in itself on how we see (fear) government: we can’t just have a group of powers walking around uncontrolled, unregulated. The New Avengers. Powers. Ultimates. Now Squadron Supreme.

Squadron Supreme is an ersatz version of DC’s Justice League of America (Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, etc.) done for Marvel Comics (Hyperion, Nighthawk, Power Princess, etc.). This current incarnation of the Squadron Supreme re-visits the threads from Mark Gruenwalds legendary Squadron Supreme mini-series, a pre-Watchman look at super heroes operating in “reality”; and examines the question of how long would super-heroes remain under the control of anyone else before they decided they knew best to solve the world’s problem. How long before supreme power corrupted supremely?

It has taken a long time to get here. The comic book started as Supreme Power, which laid the groundwork for Squadron Supreme, then the story ran through a couple of mini-series, before becoming Squadron Supreme. All this to say that the story moves at a deliberate pace we’ve come to expect as typical of J. Michael Straczynski stories. He took six issues to re-tell the origin of Dr. Strange. Rising Stars could have easily been trimmed by a third were it not for his devoting whole issues to exploring a character, even peripheral ones. However, that’s what we want from Straczynski: character driven stories over flash-bang plots.

As another consideration, the characters he’s (re-)created are far from the one-dimensional copies of existing heroes they once were. They have been completely re-imagined. From Hypericon as the alien outcast (distrusted as opposed to being embraced as Superman is) to the quite possibly mad Princess Power, their relationships with one another are absolutely fascinating to watch.

“We are the message and fear is the communications frequency of choice.” –Hypericon

Their first missions operating under the mandate of the U.S. government were to Africa, Middle East. Even the heroes wrestled with the idea of them being dispatched to fight “the other” and the attitude behind it. Such events lead them to already begin to consider the repercussions of their actions and whether or not this is the best way for change to be accomplished. While it may be only a matter of time before they throw off the yoke of such colonialistic action, this brand of imperialism is long entrenched.

An aspect of colonialism is its conquest mentality that works by making other cultures less than human, debasing one while exalting the colonizer’s. The western imperialist colonizers viewed Africa, for example, as an untamed land with ungodly people; that there was nothing good in this dark and scary continent–other than its resources–and that its people were entirely under the power of the devil. Ironically, the United States is a revolutionary country in that it threw off the shackles of its own colonial masters. The hypocritical conceit of the country was that while our founding fathers held that all men were created equal, they also held slaves. That central kind of hypocrisy affects the character of a nation; finds its way into the system of the society, the hearts and minds of the individuals that make up the system and becomes ingrained.

Somehow, we have to get from this sort of mentality to joining in a ministry of reconciliation.

For reconciliation to be done, there has to be a coming together of equals. For things to be on equal terms, there has to be a relationship not built on fear or oppression. There must be a recognizing and respecting of each other’s stories. So there is a continual cycle of hostility, racism, hatred - these things make it impossible to just “forget” the past. We need a tool more active than simply “forgetting.” When I look at how Jesus started the movement that eventually became the church, it’s important to note that it began by changing the hearts of a few individuals. The individuals formed impacting communities. Then the communities impacted the social order. Your identity, your individual stories, are caught up in a greater story.

Long term, it would be better to embrace a path of peace and forgiveness, quietly working to change people’s hearts while they go about their mission. However, since this is a super-hero comic book, the characters will have to wrestle with how or if to use their power to force their will on others. And we will have to wait to see it play out and the consequences of that course.

The bottom line, this is a great comic. Adult themes explored in adult ways, you wouldn’t recognize these characters as the JLA-ripoffs they once were. These are fully fleshed out characters telling stories we’ve seen shades of in some of Straczynski’s previous (and best) work. The art has the force of almost being its own character, unobtrusive and clean, with a realistic style to it. I will say that it may be best to wait for the trade paperbacks of this one. The individual issues are frustrating, not quite providing enough story (or maybe it’s the sheer anxiousness of wanting to keep reading more of it) to justify the month to month wait. Basically, it’s the same reason I now only watch 24 when I buy the collected seasons. Read back-to-back, Straczynski once again proves why he is such a fan favorite.


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Iphone Saddam Macworld Apple Youtube Somalia

I just wanted to let you know that I have a couple of columns up over at INtake: Heart for Justice and Kwanzaa Remembrances. In lieu of any other actual content, I thought I’d list the top search words from Technorati as my title.

Britney Spears!


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Take Your Ass Home

Dear Pastor, Ministry Worker, or Non-Profit Person:

Before I decided to work, part-time though it may be, at The Dwelling Place, I went around and talked to a lot of folks that I know in ministry. From pastors, to people who do other full-time ministry or charity work, one particular warning kept popping up: your first ministry is to your family.

Take your ass home.

Are we family here? Let’s be real then: you ain’t that important to Kingdom work. Yes, we are called to be missional and join in a ministry of reconciliation, but you aren’t irreplaceable. The work will be there tomorrow. You can’t sacrifice your family, (especially) not even in the name of the Lord or doing His work.

Consider this a welcome to leadership lesson two. It took me a long time to get comfortable (well, first that I’m a leader, and then) with the idea of what it means to be a leader in the Biblical sense. Being a leader doesn’t require sinless perfection. It doesn’t require academically qualified or highly skilled (we may not outright say it, but we tend to expect our leaders to have initials after their name if they are going to speak or write). A piece of paper doesn’t make anyone a good leader. It’s more about their character. Their honesty (with people and money). The stability of their personal/family life. An ability to teach. A maturity as a believer.

Take your ass home.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got next to zero self-control in this area. Left to my own devices, every waking moment would be filled with me volunteering for one group or another. My wife is already suspicious that I may be committing “ministry adultery” with all of my recent writing about Outreach, Inc. (Though, combining it with existing ministries is fine. However, she is, for real, tired of me volunteering for things, be it writing or “in the name of the Lord”). Here’s how we solved the problem for us: she’s in charge of my time. It’s similar to submitting to who is gifted in what area.

She’s better at balancing a checkbook and making (and sticking to) budgets, so she runs that aspect of our life. My heart and mind want to prioritize my family, but it’s funny how “work” can make us lose sight of these things. To ensure that I wouldn’t, I asked her to hold me to account for making sure I spent however much time she needed me to at home (this includes regular date nights). I have a day job, I work for the church, and I write - to which she’s been quite sacrificial in accommodating. To ensure that my time/priorities don’t topple out of order, for every “new” venture I decide to adopt, I have to drop something else I do. She also gets a veto on how many evenings I book up with “stuff” (everything we do gets cleared on the Family Calendar Board), because neither one of us wants to be constantly “busy”. It’s our system, but I know how this “mutual submission” talk makes some folks nervous, so your mileage may vary.

The bottom line is that too many of us think that we’re indispensable. That we have to be at church, our ministry, our vocation, our whatever, from sun up to sundown. Yes, sacrifice is often required and there is not enough time in the day to get everything done. However, your family is not that sacrifice. Tuck in your kids and kiss your spouse because if you’re neglecting your family, you’re neglecting your first ministry.

Take your ass home.

Love and kisses,

Maurice

P.S.

Dear LJ Friends,

Sorry that Blogger doesn’t always play nice with you. Bad as I can be sometimes, I really didn’t post a dozen new reviews this weekend.


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We Need More than a Prayer Meeting

Local ministers and community leaders will hold a news conference today to discuss crime in Indianapolis. Rev. Charles Harrison, pastor of Barnes United Methodist Church, was a victim of a robbery over the weekend. While at church Sunday evening, he was robbed by three young men. The group will discuss that and other crime issues at 1 p.m. at the intersection of Martin Luther King Jr. and 30th streets.

What was it that Chris Rock said you should do if you found yourself lost on MLK Jr Street at night? Run! This is more sad than funny as we are coming off one of the most murderous years in our city's history.

We keep waiting for folks, politicians, churches, and community leaders to do more than talk. There comes a point where talk is cheap. When you’ve done all you can do to draw attention to a problem and have to come up or join in with a solution. Maybe we–the people, the community–need to do more to stem the tide of violence where we can. Bear our share of the burden. Warehousing criminals, again, sounds good but isn’t a real solution. That’s society saying that we’ve given up so when you go bad, we’ll just lock you up. Yep, statistically crime will drop. Yep, we will “feel” safer knowing that we’ve thrown away the key. However, this country already has too long a sad history of putting people in chains and we can’t afford any more of those long-term scars on our collective soul.

Too many of us live in an utter state of self-delusion. We think danger is black, brown and poor, and if we can just move far enough away from "those people" in the cities we'll be safe. If we can just find an "all-American" town, life will be better, because "things like this just don't happen here." What has gone wrong and is not TV, rap music, video games or a lack of prayer in school. What went wrong is that we, as a society, decided to ignore dysfunction and violence when it only affected other communities, and thereby blinded themselves to the inevitable creeping of chaos which never remains isolated too long.

Churches are a good correct place to start in the war on crime. The church is supposed to be a reproducing community of authentic disciples who are being equipped as missionaries to be sent out by God. We listen to the questions asked by our community and dialogue over those questions. We don’t force questions that we think our community “should” be asking and provide those answers. That’s not real helpful.

As Christians, we have our identity in Christ. We find our mission in Christ. Missional people might not spend as much time at church because their whole lives are missions. And that mission is connected to social action, the key word being “action”. Not just “press conferences”. But you know what? I know in my heart that these leaders won’t be stopping at this press conference. I’d be willing to bet that this press conference is the beginning of a conversation. A laying out of a vision that will then be taken off camera as people assemble to put “feet” to the vision and do the work.

At least that’s my hope.


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All Critics Aren’t Created Evil*

There’s been a lot of chatter on the old blogosphere about what does a writer does and does not owe a reader, which has me thinking about the ownership of writing; this strange connection between writer and reader. Accepting what they say about what the writer owes the reader, I’m left wondering what does the reader owe the writer?

Let’s face it, for many writers, their relationship with their readers ends with the reader plunking down the money (or clicking on their blog) for the writer’s product. On the one hand, I wrote it, it is what it is, I don’t care what you think. (That’s my hang up: I tend to react the same to fans as well as critics when it comes to discussing my work. If I “buy” the praise, I have to “buy” the criticism. I’m working on it.) On the other hand, all critics don’t have to be heard.

"He was like a cock who thought the sun had risen to hear him crow." - George Eliot

I have a theory that there is a sort of “reader’s hubris” - that in this day an age, it’s a lot easier for readers to directly let the writer know what they think. Like sports fans who feel entitled to sometimes behave in an out of control manner because they have paid their money, readers sometimes think that their opinion is valid (which it is), that their opinions are thought provoking or worthy of consideration (which is questionable), and that the writer should hear them (which many writers love to hear from their readers, good or bad. I’m working on it. Brian Keene keeps telling me to respect my readers, especially as an up-and-coming writer, and not call them nobs, even when they’re nobs. I can however call him, and HE can call them nobs.)

You write, you expect (and want) to be reviewed. Complaining about reviewers is like actors complaining about the paparazzi: they all need them to get noticed (and to validate them being worthy of being photographed). Hopefully you can tell which critics have opinions worth paying attention to by the quality and thoughtfulness of their criticisms and weight them appropriately. The rest you learn to dismiss. It’s easy for people to type “you’re an idiot” in an e-mail and hit enter with all of the bravery that the Internet and a keyboard affords them.

"Blessed is the man, who having nothing to say, abstains from giving wordy evidence of the fact." - George Eliot

[NOTE: this quote is used with a certain amount of irony, considering my blogs]

Though, you have to keep in mind that being criticized is part of the game when you put yourself out there. Here’s my fear, if you haven’t learned when to not listen to your critics: that you start writing for your critics. Or worse, not write at all. It’s why so many writers finish things, then leave them in their desk drawers. The story belongs to the reader. It’s like parenting: you birth the child, raise it (through re-writes), prepare it to make it on its own (accepted for publication), and then send it out into the world (to be read). The simple fact of the matter is that some people just have to tell you what they think. Why do I have to hear it? Because, it completes the cycle, fulfills the relationship between writer and reader. Though, I’ve been told that the reason to listen to the praise is to help carry you through the barrage of criticism that will come your way.

Take this for what it’s worth. I don’t care either way. But I’m working on it.


*Um, actual, that was a bit of a Freudian slip of a typo that I let stand. I meant to type that all critics aren’t created equal.


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Dream Girls

Adapting the Broadway musical that was first staged in 1981, director Bill Condon puts together a movie that moves at whirlwind pace in its first hour and then levels out. I really wanted to love Dreamgirls. Maybe that was the problem: too high of expectations. It had a lot of the things I love about musicals: great songs, great singers, great performers, great performances, great choreography, and great star power to drive the thing home.

A thinly veiled version of the rise of the Supremes and Berry Gordy's Motown, the movie mimics the music ... my dad ... grew up with. So part of the fun of the movie was guessing who was based on whom. The movie begins at an amateur night at a Detroit theater, with the Dreamettes being cheated out of a win. Fortunately, Curtis Taylor Jr. (Jamie Foxx) a Detroit car salesman turned would-be record producer, manages to wrangle them as backup singers for James ''Thunder'' Early (Eddie Murphy), a sort of James Brown via Marvin Gaye.

The movie is backlit with the politics of race. The overall all arc of the movie almost follows the history of pop music, with the idealism of Black musicians wanting to make and control our own music. From Blues, jazz, Gospel, R&B, to Soul, we see the music co-opted by white artists and businessmen. This sets the backdrop for much of what drives the movie. Due to the music industry's racism, Curtis pays off radio stations, a necessary evil for the day. He replaces the dark-skinned, thick lead singer, Effie White (Jennifer Hudson - channeling the voice of a young Aretha Franklin), with the light-skinned, twig-physiqued backup singer Deena Jones (Beyoncé Knowles). It's not just a cosmetic change, as Curtis tells Effie, her voice is too ''special'' (read: “too black”). However, by strange coincidence, the movie that began with such fury and passion stultified the more the career arc of the group moves to cross over appeal.

“You want all the privileges and none of the responsibilities.” –Marty Madison (Danny Glover)

Dreamgirls has the opposite problem of Idlewild: it uses the music to cover the lack of drama. Ostensibly the movie wants to be about the power and responsibility of family; what happens when you sacrifice for your dream and your dream is stolen. However, just like the protagonist of the movie Requiem for a Dream is actually addiction, the hero of Dreamgirls is “the dream.”

The movie examines the price of “making it,” never quite answering the question of whether any of them truly “makes it,” and the sacrifices required to make the dream a reality. Unfortunately, with the dream being the protagonist, mostly what we are left with are cardboard characters. Don’t get me wrong, Jennifer Hudson easily walks away with the movie, as Effie is the pathos storm of the century. Her showstopper number, ''And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going'' (one of those American Idol “big” songs that when done right is chilling, but when the voice isn’t up to the task is calamitous) is a staggering piece of musical acting. It was a moving lament that had our audience bursting out into applause (which didn’t happen when Beyonce performed her own show stopper number, “Listen”). In fact, Beyonce has little to nothing to do other than stand around and be manipulated.

“All my life I've been a fool/Who said I could do it all alone
How many good friends have I already lost?/How many dark nights have I known?
Walking down that wrong road, there was nothing I could find
All those years of darkness-can make a person blind/But now I can see.”

The group started off with a sincere desire: to use the gifts they were blessed with and be who they were meant to be. Somehow that simple, good dream was corrupted. At some point, something crept into the vision, unnoticed at first. Maybe pride, maybe greed, but something caused the dream to go awry. Once set on this different path, it eventually lead to loneliness, despair, fear. Something has to break this cycle.

Chasing after the trappings of success is a hollow endeavor. Instead, we are called to be missional, to seek to have a life as a community sent by God into its place in the world. We are to live an alternative vision of success as defined by our society's culture, socio-political, and economic structures. And, if nothing else, appreciate the power of community and family, because life boils down to relationships.

Because no character’s story is particularly followed, we’re left with half-concerns. Effie’s fall into despair doesn’t really grab us (we’re told she blew through half a million dollars in booze in two years, but barely see a couple of drinks). Dreamgirls needed to be bigger somehow, do more with its inspiration/source material and be more melodramatic. The movie constantly undersells many of the key emotional moments (from Deena and Effie reconciling, to Curtis figuring out who the father of Effie’s daughter is). They undercut any potential high drama by turning Deena into a saint, not responsible for any of the tragedy that befalls Effie. Even Jamie Foxx seemed to have turned his charisma down to “simmer” and has a constant look of vague discomfort. Which is similar to how I felt about the movie. I really wanted to like it, and was expecting Oscar worthy turns from most of the cast. Instead, I left liking the movie, but was vaguely disappointed.


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Spider-Man: The Other

Writers: Peter David, Reginald Hudlin, and J. Michael Straczynski
Artists: Mike Deodato and Joe Pimentel, Pat Lee and Dream Engine, and Mike Wieringo and Karl Kesel
Published by: Marvel Comics

“Evolve or Die”

Spider-Man has seen a variety of changes over the years. He’s had multiple arms, been a giant spider, worn an alien costume, and then there was the clone saga (oy! The clone saga). Obviously not afraid of messing with the mythos of Spider-Man (since many fans still haven’t forgiven him for his retro-fitting of the story of Gwen Stacy), Straczynski has been working toward this story for years.

“Never understood. What you were. What you are. What you are becoming.” –Spider Spirit


The heart of the story revolves around the idea that Spider-Man’s powers are totemic in nature. Expanding the mythos into one of archtypes. DC comics went through this trend in the late 80s/early 90s as several of their characters were revealed to be elemental in nature (Swamp Thing, Red Tornado, Firestorm, etc.).

Since this story was going to fundamentally change the very character of Spider-Man, the story ran through all of his major titles: The Amazing Spider-Man 525-528, Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man 1-4, and Marvel Knights Spider-Man 19-22. The storyline also got to utilize the talents of three fan-favorite writers: Reginald Hudlin (Black Panther), Peter David (Incredible Hulk, Fallen Angel, X-Factor), and J. Michael Straczynski (Rising Stars, Strange).

“You treated the gift that you had been given as though it were a toy. You did not look too deeply into what you had become of what you could do. You committed the crime ... of superficiality.” –Spider Spirit

The Other follows Spider-Man’s spiritual journey as he searches within himself, learns who he is, and is led to confront both the “spider within” as well as the Spider Spirit. You see, Peter Parker (Spider-Man) was guilty of something that many folks are guilty of when it comes to their spiritual life: no self-examination. He never questioned, never dug deeper. While having a simple faith is good, being simple about one’s faith is not. Part of him was afraid of finding answers that might be disturbing. Instead he chose to not look beneath the surface, accepting the limits of what he thought he could do, and place his faith in a comfortable box.

He abandoned the journey of becoming a disciple.

The best way for me to think about discipleship is in terms of apprenticeship. I’m a student, Jesus is the teacher, and my goal is to become as much like him as possible. Discipleship would involve a changed in three areas: belief (we turn to Christ, expressing our desire to see him as he is, not simply how he’s been represented to us), behavior (our lives become slowly transformed, centering our lives around living out the kingdom mission; putting feet–action–to our faith and knowledge), and belonging (we join a specific faith community).

Discipleship, simply defined, can be seen as a process of how we transform everything we do in order to “take on,” or becoming more like, Jesus. You figure out what it means for you to live and work in light of being a blessing to your neighbor and to the world. It takes time and in our culture’s need for immediate gratification, we’ve forgotten that this can be a long process.

“You’ve got what every human being has asked for: a fresh start, a clean slate ... You’ve been reborn.” –Tony Stark (Iron Man)

The end goal is for Spider-Man to be born again. Literally “Reborn as what? And perhaps just as important ... why?” he asked before being baptized in the Hudson River. He becomes healed, inside and out; free of the past, of the person he was as he embraces the person he could be. Like many on a deepening spiritual journey, Spider-Man discovers new gifts, develop new spiritual fruit if you will.

All told, The Other’s story could have been told in a lot fewer issues, the story felt a little padded. Peter David, no stranger to writing Spider-Man, is great, but the story rather drags a bit when written by Reginald Hudlin. J. Michael Straczynski’s issues are back to the typical Straczynski sense of pacing. However, no one loses sight of what makes Spider-Man great: he’s a regular guy simply trying the best he can.


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Moon Knight

Writer: Charlie Huston
Artist: David Finch
Publisher: Marvel

“The Bottom”
I remember the first issue of Moon Kni