The last month has been that of many us and downs in life. Celebrating my new casting with Jet Set Zero as well as dealing with the passing of a close friend. Today marks the one month mark of Rudi's passing. This month has gone by extremely fast.
On this one month mark, I am going to ask a favor of everyone...if you can spare even $1, please donate to the Joseph family to help pay for his funeral services, as well as his family. Rudi was the breadwinner in his family and supported so many relatives as such. His mother has been on disability for years and could use all the help she can get. In this name, Team Genius has been selling T-Shirts as well as awesome new "WWGD" (What Would Genius Do?) wristbands. Check out the merchandise at www.itsdjgenius.com
In addition to the cause I'm helping spread for Rudi, I got a message from an online friend who recently had their 8-year old godchild pass of a rare form of cancer. She was a vibrant beautiful young woman and the family is asking for anything that can be donated. See details at Kel's website to make donations HERE.
I truly appreciate everyone's efforts, prayers, and help. Please spread the word. I promise the blogs over the next few weeks will be more upbeat. Be grateful for everything and everyone you have!
Peace and Love!
Upon my return to New York City, especially the Bronx, there were a few characteristics of the area that I was apprehensive about witnessing again.
Let me preface the girth of this blog by saying that the mind of a child is a precious and extremely malleable thing. What you put in it is very much what you get out of it.
In thinking of my future children (years from now) I put emphasis on making sure the first time that they hear they're beautiful or gifted, is not from a stranger but from their parents...with that.
I've seen a number of accounts, since being home, of children being mentally and verbally abused in public. It is a sick trend in these here parts of the 'hood' and few things crawl underneath my skin and ignite the wish for bodily harm upon another individual. Some of this city's occupants and the way they talk to their children and grand-children is baffling and disgusting. Beautiful, innocent, being told publicly that that "ain't shit" and "won't ever be shit" has done everything except draw me to tears and blows. I can't take it anymore.
This particular incident happened on the "D" train. what appeared to be a grandmother and granddaughter duo sat in front of me as I traveled to work. From the moment they sat down the grandmother was complaining to the little girl.
"You need to stop acting like a tomboy. No man will love you with all the scratches on your clothes."
"I ain't never buying you shit ever again. I bought you a whole thing of hair clips and now you only have two left."
"I'm so sick of you. Don't even talk to me before I smack you in the face."
"You make me sick. I'm so tired."
It was one psychological hit after another. I looked at this silent girl's face and I could see her turning into a mental punching bag for this evil bitch sitting next to her.
The little girl was gorgeous. Light-skinned, sandy brown hair, hazel eyes, and a tomboyish style that not for one minute overshadowed the fact that she was gorgeous, while her grandmother sat there toothless and miserable. I could see her mind mentally filing and registering every negative comment. I could see the layers of distorted self images being built, right through her eyes. I was furious. I wanted nothing more than to tell her how beautiful she was.
The train approached 145th Street. They got up to get off, with a man who'd tried unsuccessfully to catch my eye prior, sat down.
"Oh wait," said the grandmother,"next stop."
Switching their position, the little girl sat directly next to me and the grandmother across. I looked at the girl and smiled. She smiled back. Screeching to a stop at 125th the little girl gets up, preparing to exit, and without thinking I looked her in the eye and spoke.
"You are beautiful," I said.
"Thank you."
"You're gorgeous and don't you ever forget that."
She smiled, "Thank you."
In my mind, I wanted to save her from her own involuntary hell.
Feeling good about my good deed, yet that it was not enough to balance out the emotional genocide her grandmother was unleashing, I hoped it made a difference. I hoped in her toughest of times she remembered the stranger that told her what someone in her family didn't.
"She's beautiful, but not as beautiful as you," said the asshole that didn't understand the significance of the recent moment.
"No. No one is more beautiful than that girl," I sternly responded then began writing in my journal. This man was looking for the right line at the wrong time...tough break.
In a world of oversexed, overexposed, readily extinguished love affairs, marriages, and relationships, I have still held fast to the concept of the power couple. After not being in a relationship for the better part of the last five years, I find myself now trying to cultivate the roots to establish a power relationship of my own.
Three of my favorite people, two of which make up my proclaimed power couple (Will, Jada, and Oprah) were on Oprah discussing the approach they have taken to achieve a 12 year strong marriage, with three children, and envious careers.
My followers know I turn to Will for personal insight as well, but nothing beats their relationship knowledge.
Watch this clip from Oprah as they speak on the creation of their relationship business plan...I dig it!
Who is Akira Adel? (Teaser) from Jinesis on Vimeo.
Class. Beauty. Love. Angelic Voice. Enjoy the old video of 'Stormy Weather'.
I'm back in NYC, after an amazing weekend in South/North Carolina. To be specific, I'm keyless, trying to get into my apartment, stuck in the corridor between my front door and the prison gate the leads to my actual apartment. Waiting and thinking...remembering my house has wireless.
In this empty hallway, I understand how full this weekend was. Many times I wanted to write through my journey, but felt the need to really be in it. Video footage was taken, and Nomad•ness will have a future treat for sure.
I am proud to have watched my younger sister accept her first college degree. Furman University, and their self-righteous crowd were blown to bits at the applause my family designated just for her. Donning an Africa cutout on her cap, Sarafina is officially a college graduate.
I haven't been down South in years. I believe the last time, I was dating Reg, and anyone who knows me personally knows that one has been done a long time ago. In reality it's been about six years. Six years since I've seen the old land plantations, heard that southern drawl I mimic certain family members for acquiring, since last witnessing the big bellies and fried heart attacks served on plates at restaurants, and most importantly since seeing my grandfather.
My roots in the South run deep. With my father as the unofficial family (and Black History) historian I've always been very aware of my ancestry. Down the street from my grandfather's home is the family cemetery. It acquired this label for generation after generation of Robinson and Brevard occupants.
Yesterday afternoon, my sister, grandmother, aunt, and I all drove down the street and walked through the tombstones of my great grandparents, great uncles, great aunts, and great cousins to name a few. This burial ground houses many of my relatives born in the late 1800's. It's not big, but it's well known.
Along with the cemetery, the road my grandfather lives on is jokingly called Robinson Road. Literally, an entire street, leading to that cemetery, is housed with my relatives, in some way, shape, or form. Our roots go deep...
But this particular weekend was not about the men. It was the women. From my sister being the honoree of the day, to Mother's Day, the women were the powerhouses of this weekend. Within the safe confines of the female discussion, I learned many things about my family that I didn't previously know. Some of the trails were worse than I imagined, while the triumphs were praised. My sister and I are only the second generation in our family....all those roots, to go to college. A particularly poignant moment for my grandmother who looked on as, this year, Furman also announced the 50th anniversary of the class of 1960. As one would imagine, there wasn't an African-American face in that crowd. During this visit, I learned a lot about my grandmother...her loss, decisions, and strength. This woman I've always been close too, amazes me more.
So I'm back. As per usual, trips to the South always mold me immediately after. With this trip so soon after returning from abroad, I now not only have a sense of the world but also my roots...
You are supposed to do at least one thing, everyday, that scares you.
What is the one thing you could do to test yourself, define yourself, push yourself, right now?
I am at a point in my life where I am aware of the preparation I'm enduring in order to be able to approach the opportunities that will set me up for the rest of my life.
The rest of my life...such an vast time frame.
Everything is happening as it should. The Universe is helping to shape me and direct me as to where I'm supposed to be. My eyes and energy are wide open.
Simply put...what the imagination can conceive, the wo(man) can achieve.
This video inspire me beyond words.
It's no coincidence that I have been back for over a week and still have yet to post a thorough blog about my time in India.
As a writer, India presented a tangible challenge. How does one convey the power of the images, smells, and emotion captured in a place that saturates the senses in all these ways? India led to some of the best photography I have taken, to date, as you can observe throughout this blog. I also have video footage that I will be spending the next few weeks making heads and tails of for upcoming episodes of Nomad•ness. Overwhelmed with wondering how I was to relay the information of this trip, it wasn't until I started giving slide presentations to my schools in Japan, as a final lesson, that I got the energy and insight to push it out. The look on these children's eyes when I show them photos of me covered in the colors of Holi, or riding a camel, or kids their age too poor to go to school. They get it, and for a moment I see their eyes open beyond Japan. I want to influence everyone I meet enough to make them get over the fear, and get on the plane. This was my journey...
India.
The memoir will most definitely retain the details of my travels, but here I offer some photos as navigation through the most uncomfortable, scary, dirty, invigorating, and rewarding experience of my life. I thought living in Japan for a year made me a warrior. Little did I know what India had to offer.
The ten day trek took Melissa, Stephanie, and I through New Delhi, Jaipur, Pushkar, and Agra. We stayed in the North, venturing locally on buses and trains in the uncomfort of stares, being followed, and constant invasion of personal space. The ratio of men to women, outside, is highly uneven and it is not uncommon to find yourself surrounded by gazing men offering you rides, deaf to the word "No."
Northern India is also knows for being cultural, yet extremely poverty plagued. The South is known more so for the cleanliness, tourists, and resorts. Needless to say, I am happy we ventured in the North first. 
They live the way they must. It is the begging of the children that tears you to pieces, but there is a silent understanding.
Five of our ten days we spent in Jaipur, celebrating Holi Festival of Colors, becoming masked by vibrant paint powder colors. The Elephant Festival was amazing, even after I drew a crowd of laughing male faces at my attempts to get on top of a horse. Good times.
Holi was one of the best days of my life, and Stephanie's 30th birthday. Mayhem, chaos, alcohol, and all of us in a humvee were the symbols of the day. We started by braving the Jaipur streets with our new friends and 'bodyguard' and we ended it in a private party hosted by Jaipur's elite, inside the garden of an old palace. The day was a real life fairy tale. 
We continued through Jaipur onto the Amber Fort where we were surprisingly greeted by a snake charmer. All three of us took the charmer's word for it, stating that the snake wasn't poisonous, and touched the cobra. My brother would have been proud. When in Rome...right? There were elephants, monkeys, pigs, buffalo, and camels everywhere. Over dinner in the desert I had a monkey scare the hell out of me while I was eating outside, only for it to get into a fight with a cat. I cannot make this stuff up. 
We intended to spend three days in Agra, but as per everyone's recommendation, it was too long. Agra also proved to be the dirtiest of the places we went so within twenty-four hours we got there and left, walking away from our hotel payments and all. Though the city left much to be desired, it was here I saw my mecca and the reason why I ventured to India in the first place.
Taj Mahal. The most epic representation of love.
We even saw Japanese people there, something that makes me feel very much at home now. How ironic?!
In leaving Agra, we rerouted for the unplanned part of the itinerary, Pushkar aka the desert aka Little Israel. It's a bit of a hippy town packed right in the middle of the desert and steep hills. We spent two days in Pushkar doing cheap shopping, gawking at the fine Israeli that ran the Internet Cafe, fighting off pink lizards and stomach issues, while riding camels for hours. It was here I met my 10 year old camel guide, the most fascinating young man I have met in my life. 
Leaving Pushkar, I headed back to Japan to conclude my year long journey there, and my fellow travelers flew to South Africa.
Sugoy! Amazing!
If it seems as though I am recalling events, yet not emotion, it is because I still am. I am still searching for the right words to formulate the right sentences, to spit out all that I have in.
I am forever grateful for India. If for no other reason, I know I can sleep anywhere and find some comfort. If for nothing else, because even at my worst, I have so much more than those in the Northern part of their country. In its ugly, I find such a raw beauty. I look forward to the day I find the words...the memoir is going to be amazing.
Loving my life!
This time last year, I shared some of the same feelings I am experiencing now. Confusion. Anxiety. Apprehension. Excitement. Adventure.
This time around it is a reverse in geography. Then, I was leaving New York to head to Japan. Now, I am leaving Japan, headed to New York, while approaching India first.
Stephanie and Melissa are already on their plane from NYC, headed to Delhi. I will be meeting them, at Nirvana Hostel (check my facebook friends, they are on here) for us women to embark on a journey of self-reflection, revelation, and adventure. I began planning this trip months ago with myself as he only occupant. I am happy to be sharing it with these ambitious ladies.
India is far more than a trip, another installment in Nomad•ness, and another stamp in my passport. India represents a manifestation of a dream.
My top three dream trips are Egypt, India, and Greece. Though I have traveled to many places, these three, I have not.
Two years ago, I remember vividly, laying on my bed in the Bronx, on the phone with my younger sister and talking about going to India. The prospect of travel is something both of us have inherited, much from our father. During this phone call, I could envision seeing the vibrant colors of the cities. I could taste the magnitude of the Taj Mahal.
Sarafina spoke about her interest in visiting the Motherland, South Africa specifically. Both of us took our brains on a wanderlust that night. One phone call.
Two years later...2010.
February 1st my sister departed for South Africa/Namibia and will be there until April 1st.
February 26th I depart Tokyo, Japan for India to conquer three cities in ten days.
As my mother always says, "It's never a matter of 'if'. It's always a matter of when."
