That got me thinking: How often has that been true about me? How many of us, if we’re really honest, are like that? Knowing deep in our hearts that we’re not REALLY ready to receive…the prize. What prize? What’s the prize?

The prize is what you prayed for. The prize is getting what you want. 

He said, “You know, Shannon, depression is a spirit. It’s a seductive spirit. Because, while it’s tearing you apart, it’s also feeding you chemicals that feel good. Good enough to make you keep it around. Good enough to not cast it out… You can be free.”

I read an article some years back that said that whatever friends you make by 20-something would be the only friends you’d make from then on.

Scary! Especially considering that most of the s**t that torpedoes longtime relationships typically happens after thirty. LOL!

Yesterday Nipsey Hussle died. Rapper to some. Visionary to others. Father, son, brother, and friend to a few. Humanitarian and man of the people to most. We met a couple times, were from the same hometown on Los Angeles’ westside, and we travelled in some of the same circles in the LA entertainment orbit but I can’t say I ‘knew’ him. Still…I can feel it.

When hard times come, does it automatically mean that they are solely meant to harm a person or destroy their lives? Or could those same hard times be there to shape and mold that person in a way that no other method could do or could do as completely and quickly?

My routines were safe. They kept me secure in my mind even as they kept me fastened to my bronze-version life. I’d asked for this. I didn’t know it at the time of my asking. It didn’t sound like that at all. It sounded like groaning. Deep, unsatisfied, guttural groaning. And it wouldn’t stop. 

She’d gone out with this man several times and, try as she might, she couldn’t bring herself to get into him. On paper, he was great. And she knew it. So did he. But she was a vibrant woman still ascending into her prime (btw…those old beliefs that a woman HITS her prime in her mid-30s are horribly misleading. if truth be told, sliding into the midpoint of your third decade signals the START of hitting your prime, ladies, and, from what I hear, it goes on and on and on from there... You’re welcome 😉) and he…well he was a guy who knew he looked good on paper.

I wanted her to be wrong. I really did. But I knew she wasn’t. The problem was that, with the new video series I was about to release, if bad hair and bad breath was an issue, some of the intimate details of my life that I’d shared in those videos – details I’d ONLY share because I knew they would help someone – yeah…those were really going to be an issue.

I hate lies now. Like…A LOT. The worst lies, I find, are the ones that I don’t even know I’m telling. Those are the ones that have their root in the deep, dark and murky recesses of my insecurities, past rejections, and the total conviction that if I can’t see them, no one else can either. Until I unceremoniously find out they can.

Every time you become romantically involved with someone, what many fail to fully acknowledge is that most people have had several romantic relationships before you came along. Usually, what has been left is a series of half-made buildings – some of them greatly decayed/decaying because they were half-erected and abandoned so long ago. Someone else moved in and didn’t necessarily start building on the last erection (no pun/all puns intended) but, rather likely began building in another part of the ‘city’.

Some time ago, I had a friend who shared a house with me on alternative days/weeks when I was in town and vice versa. On one of my trips in town that coincided with one of her trips out of town, I arrived to the house to find it a mess and all the food I’d left 10 days earlier either eaten, given away or tossed out. I was a little low on cash, tired from traveling, and possessed little to no desire to go grocery shopping as soon as I got back. When I asked about the missing food and general ‘ugh’ of the house, I got a plate of evasive answers paired with a juicy slice of remorselessness washed down with a tall glass of ‘get over it…I already have’.

Last year, I made a new friend. I love that because, as I’ve traveled this world more, I have come to value and have a greater appreciation for what that word really means. I don’t take it lightly. One day, as I was talking with God about why this person was in my life, I heard one thing: “…to teach him bravery”.

I had been praying quietly and singing when suddenly I heard it:

“I’m turning the tap on and I’m not turning it off. The only thing that can turn it off is ingratitude because ingratitude makes you forgetful. Ingratitude leads to forgetfulness and forgetfulness will turn your tap off…”

BOOM!

I realized then that I had continued to hold onto one residual thought; one remnant feeling that was very effective at preventing me from moving forward with any sense of urgency. That residual remnant was this: that there was something to ‘go back’ to.