Adventures of a Writer's Convention

"Wow, I'm doing good on time, the first workshop starts at 9:00 AM, I'll have 20 minutes to spare according to the GPS," I smiled. Cruising along i-85 since 5:00 AM to Atlanta was a breeze or so I thought. "Dang, what the-!" My car came to a complete stop as I entered the cusp of Atlanta. Back the back traffic creeped along like a caterpillar. That slow traffic ate up all the time I made up. "Finally, we're up to 35 mph, thank goodness," I sighed.

Screeeeeeeccchhhhhh! Swerving my car to the right towards the exit wall, trying to avoid hitting the car in front of me. "Oh Jesus," I cried inside. My brakes didn't seem to stop my car and I slid toward the rear end of the metal box braking in front of me. My eyes swelled as I visualized the impact and bracing myself. Suddenly, the screeching stop and was replaced by the smell of burnt rubber, loud bass drum beats of my heart and my shaking body. I saw my car hitting the car in front of me! I did! I was less than an inch front smashing into it! I really thanked God for that miracle.

It took me the rest of the morning to calm down. I made it to the Black Writer's Reunion & Conference unscathed. Shaky and nervous, but unhurt. Whew, thank goodness because I don't have health insurance until our government works that issue out.

It was so good to reconnect with fellow writers and learn from some established, successful authors and professors. The reunion was wonderful and the information from the conference was helpful. Some presenters were more prepared and knowledgeable than others, but more importantly, I spent time writing with other authors.

The W Hotel hosted the event and it was beautiful, but a pricey hotel without free Internet in the room? Come on, W - What is up with that? And, $4 for a bottle of water, come on, really? So, I settled in my room refusing to even investigate the little snacks on the table in case they were weighted.

Fssttttttttt...what was that? A big water bug flew out of the air conditioning vent. "What the-?" Knocking everything off of the desk where it landed, I was determined to kill that enormous beast! "Where did it go?" I emptied everything out of my purse, conference bag, and books. "Where did it go?" Finally, I saw it creeping from under the linen so I sprayed it with my perfume! The creature quickly flew underneath the bed. "Please, can you send someone up to spray for this devilish thing that is tormenting me?" The hotel refused me...instead they moved me up to a suite. A suite? Ahhhh, sweet.

I eyed the new room with contempt. I saw the kitchen area, living room with a balcony, couch, desk, sleeper chair, and flat screen. Yes, the bedroom had another flat screen and balcony, walk-in closet and separate bath. "Is this the best? Well, I guess it'll do." I was in heaven! Go me, go me!!! I invited my writing buddies up to my penthouse suite to have writing sessions. That's the least I could do for the little people in their tiny, normal rooms. So generous of me. We even watched a movie on my DVD player in my living room.

We walked to the mall and I bought some special exfoliation soap from a skin and body care store called, LUSH. And, let the fresh air fill my room with my balcony door open. As I relaxed in my plush bed watching my flat screen television. Did I mention that I was in heaven?

Hey, what is the life of a writer without experiences, right?

You're not going to be my FB Friend!

I laughed out loud as I scanned a blog written by an acquaintance. A hilariously written list of those who deserve a throat punch. After all, who doesn't want to jab a good punch to someone in the throat on any given day, right? One of the groups listed: Adult women that choose to back stab and play the “I can’t be friends with you because you aren’t friends with her.”

When I transferred colleges, I joined my fellow sorority sisters on the new campus. I expected to be welcomed into a glorious sisterhood. I expected my sisters to have my back like Thelma and Louise, Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, and Celie and Nettie of the Color Purple. But, boy was I wrong. As one sister said, "You meet all types of women in a sorority..." Tis true, sis.

I'm never one to just readily open up to women because of my past experiences. But, I've let my guard down and allowed myself to enjoy the encounters that new female friendships and bonds could bring. But, to quote Debbie, some of these chics need a good throat punch! Seriously, they're acting more like Desperate Housewives, Housewives of ATL, NJ and Orange County combined. Why??? I cocked my head to the side and questioned, "And, how old are you?" But, a friend said, "It's not about age, it's how they truly are."

Okay, you be the judge. If we met at BOA and developed a bond, but you started seeking employment at Wachovia, and BOA finds out that you've been posting, taking profiles, etc and resigned you, would we have to stop being friends? But, when you tell me that you care about our friendship, but you don't know who to trust at BOA now, should I be offended? I'm still the same person, just wanted to keep my job. And, to add insult to injury, when you delete me from your simple Facebook page as a friend, does that mean we're not friends anymore at all or just not friends on FB? Please tell me your thoughts...

I was up last night thinking about this issue because although I don't care that these women deleted me from their FB friends list, their reasoning for it bothes me. And, I don't really care that they have left a good company and started a bunch of unnecessary confusion. (Do you!) But, I do care that these individuals called me personally and texted me: "I care so much about our friendship and I just don't know who to trust...I don't know who's a mole...I hope we can work together...good luck, you're awesome...you make me smile...I'm tired of the gossip and rumors..." Then the very next day I lost these two supposedly friends on FB. I get hung up on by a forty-something man, now this? What is the world coming to?

"Maybe all the rumors, drama and gossip would not have started if it weren't for you! Or, maybe you don't know who to trust, paranoid of moles because you're guilty of something? Or, just maybe you are deleting everyone that knows the truth and hope that your new connections at Wachovia won't talk to your old connections at BOA?" As I told one of them, "what's in the dark will come to light eventually...it always does."

And, the other thing that I care about is everyone affected. All of the people who have been made to feel uncomfortable because of their mess! Making people feel like they have to choose, real friends don't do that. "I won't be your friend because you work for BOA and bank with BOA." What the hell? People are dealing with foreclosures, sickness, lost of jobs, children in Haiti are starving, tornado's affected family in other states... folks are dealing with big life issues and I hate that these women are causing distractions for their pettiness by involving so many others.

If you want to leave BOA and start a project over at Wachovia, own up to it! Just do it and own up to it. Then people wouldn't have to choose, you wouldn't be secretly deleting friends from FB and lying to their faces, and you wouldn't be trying to make the CEO, VP and employees of BOA look bad because of your decisions.

So, when I see them on the street, what do ya'll expect me to do? Truth be told, my life was fine before them and will be even greater after...no empty spaces were filled and no void was left. It was a good journey but it had to end because of their lack of credibility as an individual and the lack growth, evolution and accountability.

Yep, I said it, I meant it and I'm here to represent it. Don't you touch my dredlocks, don't you touch my knee cuz I'm a Detroit sista, don't you mess with me! (part of a chant that we used to sing back in the day in the D.)

I'm getting too old -

for drama! Whether it be in my family, relationships, friendships, or on the job. It doesn't matter where it comes from, but I do know that I'm getting too damn old for it.

My life is simple with just my daughter and me. We laugh, do school work, workout...just live simply. Over the recent years I have had drama at my job, Bank of America until depression paralyzed me and I could no longer work for the company. I had a little misunderstanding with a friend. There has also been drama with family members when my Grandmother decided to relocate to the South. And, unfortunately I have new drama and it is killing me.

Drama disrupts my thoughts and distracts me from what is really important in my life like completing my manuscript, creativity, and happiness. It drains me of laughter as everyone fights for the last word to just "get it off their chest." That's just too damn much.

I'd rather snuggle in the warm spot in my bed and watch drama unfold on the television. The Housewives of Atlanta provide plenty of drama. As a matter of fact, they are way too old for drama. They are 40 plus years old and fight, gossip, complain, fake nice and spit venom behind each other's backs. Ugh, because NeNe brought the drama and I couldn't stand her for being so fake and trying to play Kandi! And, I felt for Kandi having drama at home with her man and mama. And, I was on the edge of my seat watching the almost cat fight between Kim and the narcissitic chic that thinks everyone is intimidated by her success (yeah right!)Yeah, let them handle mess because they're getting paid for it. Plus, they get to be treated like celebrities.

There are too many television shows based on drama. Pick any reality show: I love New York/Flava Flav, Survivor, America's Next Top Model, For the Love of Ray J, etc. They all have a method to their madness, a goal that they are shooting for like money, fame, or fraudulent love.

But me? I'm like Mary J. Blige, I don't want "No More Drama" unless a major network contacted me for their show and I'm getting paid for it on national television. But then, there still has to be some guidelines because even some of that drama is not good.

This makes me think? Are we really ever too old for drama? And, when is enough enough?