WHAT BECOMES OF THE BROKENHEARTED

Anyone out there ever had a broken heart? I have. I had a terrible broken-hearted dream that woke me up this morning of 9/11/06 fearful and full of misery. I was so happy to realize it was just a dream, and my love was lying there by my side.

Later this morning, as I was starting to organize my office (LOL) I came across a journal that I started to write in December of the year 2000. I only wrote about 10 pages in the journal, but I came across a poem I wrote on the days between 12/5/00 and 12/10/00, and I wanted to share it with you.

THANKFUL

Here I stand
At another crossroad
Wind at my back
And I still don’t know
Which way to go

Confusion spreading like a stain
Ain’t no sense in trying to ease pain
Life’s changing the color of my eyes again
I can’t see right
I can’t see left
Blinded by the darkness of a soul bereft…

I’m thankful
For drinking your pain like water
Bathin’ in your blue like it was fine
Absorbing your screams
For the death of your dreams
But not mine
Never mine
So, I’m thankful

You’re not ready
I’m in heat
Love is in the emergency room
Can’t find a seat
Trying to call
You’re not there
Let it ring
Let it echo
'Cause I'm finally aware

I’m thankful
For drinking your pain like water
Bathin’ in your blue like it was fine
Absorbing your screams
For the death of your dreams
But not mine
Never mine
So, I’m thankful

I gotta move on
Gonna make my way
Let go of the passion
That never had it’s day
This tongue won't taste bitter
My love was not a lie
The sweetness will linger
And even though it must die…

I’m thankful
For drinking your pain like water
Bathin’ in your blue like it was fine
Absorbing the screams
For the death of YOUR dreams
But not mine
NEVER mine
So, I’m thankful

Actually, I think it's a lyric to a song. I used to write a lot of songs back then, when I was in the land of the brokenhearted. The thing that stands out most to me in the poem/lyric is that I never let my dreams die, no matter what. I was "absorbing the screams for the death" of someone elses dreams, "but not mine. Never mine."

On this day commemorating that day five years ago when so many loves perished in flame and barbarism, and so many people were left brokenhearted, I want so say to you - hold on. Life can be amazing again. Love can find a way again. A true heart will mend. Mine did.

Doing My Own Thing

So, I'm on this journey. An adventure learning to become a better writer. I am transforming the consumé of my talent into a rich and hearty beef stew.

I'm adding carrots - taking writing classes.

I'm adding potatoes and assorted vegetables - taking classes to heal my inner artist.

I'm flavoring it with exotic seasonings - taking an acting class to investigate where my create engine was built in the first place, and Spanish classes to keep my brain from calicifying.

I'm adding chunky hunks of beef - Training myself to show up and not give up. Sit down and write every day with enthusiam!

I have a script in the crockpot right now. It is stewing and simmering and thickening as we speak (so to speak.) This is the first screenplay I've ever written. Now, I've written tons of episodes for children's television. And I've been pretty successful at it, and pretty busy over the years. Whenever I wasn't working, I would use my down time to do other things...some good for me...some very bad. But I never used that down time to do what I always dreamt of doing, writing an original screenplay.

I used to think that I was just too tired or actually too lazy to do it. The only thing that motivated my writing was a juicy paycheck at the end of the week. A deadline I could handle, but a dream...? Put it on the back burner. I'm just going to lie here and pick my navel.

Now through study and introspection, I have finally realized that what I called "fatigue & laziness" was actually fear. I was afraid to do it because what if I couldn't?

I love movies. I go all the time. I can be very critical; "That story fell apart in the third act." "That character didn't work because he was totally driven by plot, not emotional truth." And on and on I would go, an Ebert of the head. Good at after movie conversation, bad at putting my own ass on the line.

Fear is a crafty little bastard. It will come at you in many disguises and suck you in every time...well, almost everytime. I'm on to this bitch now. I'm on to the excuses, the procrastination, the safety of inaction, the security of "don't try won't fail." I'm ready to put it on the line. Facing my fears, admitting them, giving them a hug, patting them on the head and sending them to the back of the room to stand in the corner and be quiet, while my enthusiasm and dreams take center stage and we play together every day in front of this computer.

I've also discovered that it's more fun when I approach writing as play instead of work. Work = drudgery, Play = fun, excitement, and so what if I get it wrong, at least I had fun.

You learn a lot by going to school. A lot of good things, and a lot of crap. I am going to teach my children to approach learning with a "take what I can use and get rid of the rest attitude." I had a teacher in Screenwrting One who was so negative. He made grown women cry, and lots of the people in class just gave up on their ideas and dreams.

He even tried to worm his way into my head. But I've been to the rodeo, so when he tried that crap with me I confronted him. I told him that he was being very discouraging and I chose not to be discouraged. He flew into a rage and said he was tired of students telling him that. Well, that should have told him something right there - if they keep telling you're too discouragin, perhaps it's time to pay attention.

Even though I confronted him, he wormed himself into my head anyway making me doubt a pivitol choice I made for my main character. I went back and forth for months, tried to come up with other choices that I felt were as strong and emotionally true.

Today, I wrote that scene. I approached it with fun and enthusiasm. I wrote it the way I originally intended only better, and I had fun doing it. That asswipe is out of my head. This is just a warning before you let them into yours. Even if they are your teachers, they don't know everything. Many are frustrated artists with their own agendas. And besides, they are only human, and as humans we all make mistakes.

Oh well, enough of this. I have to go help paint furniture for the nursery. Life is lemonade and brownies smeared with peanut butter. Buh-bye!

Long Time, No Blog

I haven't posted since April 11th, 2006, and now here it is August 1st. I could say that I've just been busy, or I didn't feel like it, or I lost the muse or not offer any excuse at all and in fact, that's what I am not going to do - offer an EXCUSE.

I am going to give you a REASON. In the earlier part of the year when I started this blog, I wanted to share myself and my POV on the world. A blog is a powerful thing, because when you send your thoughts out on the web, you are sending the energy behind those thought out into the universe. Anyone can read it, anyone can be affected by it, or not, but it's still powerful because energy cannot be destroyed - but it can be transformed.

I was enjoying writing my blog. I thought it was funny until I realized that a lot of it (not all of it, but most of it) was mean spirited. I was taking pleasure in dissecting people and putting it out on the web, spewing my bad feelings and bad energy out onto the world. I didn't like the me that I was representing. I didn't feel comfortable anymore being a source of negativity even if it was in the name of humor.

I've been on a journey the past few months. I've been very busy taking screenwriting courses and Spanish at UCLA, taking writing workshops with JACK GRAPES and now with THE ARTIST'S WAY. I've even started taking an acting workshop at the IVANA CHUBBICK STUDIOS. All of these activities have been in the name of rejuvenating my creative fire, my passion, my hunger, my drive. It's working, I'm feeling great, life is wonderful.

The greatest blessing of all is that my partner and I are going to be a fathers in 10 weeks. Our daughter, Jamaya Blue, will be born by surrogate, and it is the most fantastic dream come true that I could ever imagine. Knowing that I am going to be a father, has had a profound effect on me. I think about what I want to teach my children all the time. What I am going to pass on to them through my behavior and outlook on life? I feel it is my duty to be the best me I can be, to prepare myself to nurture and raise this gift to the world.

These questions sent me on a search for spirituality. I've never been much of a churgh-goer. In fact, there was a time in my life when I thought I was an athiest. Throughout my life I've studied many spiritual philosophies in a casual manner. There was a period when I was reading everything Shirley Maclaine put out. And a lot of her philosiphies have stuck with me through the years. I've also tried crystals, chanting and other types of new age trends.

Having children sent me on new quest because I want to raise my children with some spiritual point of view. Provide them with a foundation from which they can make their own choices and decisions when they start to have questions. I am very wary of churches that exclude anyone. I have never been able to understand how one group of people could say they are the chosen and everyone else will be left out of the Kingdom of Heaven. The concept of heaven & hell - not very convincing or reassuring to me. And that whole "Adam & Steve" "Gay Abomination" nonsense is something I could never tolerate. So it was very difficult for me to find a place that was comforting, and accepting where I could be my authentic self and expand my knowledge and appreciation of the spiritual world, and bring my children so that they could learn basic principals of love and the God source.

A friend from New York, Maria, popped up in L.A. out of the blue one Sunday, and came over to the house. I mentioned I was looking for a church. The one I went to that day was off the list because I totally fell asleep during the service. That's not the only reason it wasn't working for me, but it was a clear sign. Maria mentioned that someone had told her about AGAPE. Now, years ago someone had suggested I check out the AGAPE SPIRITUAL CENTER. I didn't. I wasn't ready. But now I am. We have been going to Agape for the past few months, and what I have experienced and learned has played a big part in changing my life.

My heart is filled with gratitude for being right here, right now and for all the blessing coming my way. I want to continue blogging again, because I like the me I am becoming. Those of you who stop by and check us out, I hope you come away with something to think about, something to laugh about, something to love about. I'm feeling great, and the positive energy that radiates from me now is the best of myself and I am ready, willing and able to send it out to the world again.

THE UGLY FACE OF CHRISTIANITY

Seems like every time I turn around, someone is lashing out at homosexuals, immigrants or some other minority "in the name of the Lord." It's been getting me down. We have a president who waves his conservative Christianity in our faces as the core of his moral philosophy. He uses his religious beliefs to defend his position against gay marriage. Whatever happened to a separation of church and state? Have we forgotten how dangerous it is to let leaders be guded by their own particular faith? These are frightening times in America. G.W. has traded his addiction to alcohol and cocaine for an addiction to conservative religious dogma, and he's dipping the flag of our country in this holy manure. [My apologies to the chimp pictured alongside the presidential boob. I'm sure the comparison is extremely lopsided and unfair to you.]

Last year, I watched WOMAN THOU ART LOOSED on video. It was a very effective and moving film about a woman's redemption. I was impressed. Then I started to learn about T.D. Jakes, the preacher who's ministry financed the film in which he also makes a cameo appearance. I confess I was ignorant to this fatheaded idiot, but I soon learned about his extremist Pentacostal views of homosexuality and gay marriage. This lisping waterheaded twit travels around the world, broadcasts on radio and television spreading his poisonous message of intolerance "in the name of the Lord." He rakes in millions of dollars through is books, speaking engagements and subsidies from the Conservative Right who are using T.D. Jokes and other likeminded African-American preachers to spread their campaign against gay marriage, which is a campaign against Equal Rights for all. It's sickening to me. I intend to be careful about the movies I rent or buy tickets to see from now on.

I was a fan of Mansdisa from the very first time I saw her on American Idol. I even voted for her last week before she was eliminated from the show. The next day, I started seeing articles about her strong religious beliefs and her intolerance toward homosexuals. I couldn't believe it. I thought it was some kind of smear campaign. Then I read an interview with her on The Advocate website. She spoke of how her religion does not accept homosexuality and neither does she. When asked if she would ever perform at an event that was sponsored by gays, she said "No." I was heartbroken. Once again the ugly face of Christianity has spit in my eye. I'm glad Mandisa is off American Idol now, because I no longer have to look at her face. A face I once considered attractive, but now, all I see is the ugliness of intolerance.

I will no longer support any person, organization, film, book, entertainer or anyone else I find to be intolerant of homosexuality. I loved Beanie Man and a lot of other reggae artists, but until they stop voicing their anti-gay venom, I will no longer purchase or even listen to their music. It's time for me to become radical, too. I'm tired of being hurt these morons who express their hatred and make no connection to the fact that they are just another in a long line of persecutors who will eventually fall because they are wrong.

When I was a boy, I was taught "God is Love." I still believe that. I refuse to align my God with intolerant organized religions who spread hatred in his name. AMEN!

QUESTIONS???

Why Can't NAOMI CAMPBELL Just Say "Kiss My Ass" and keep her cell phone to herself??? It's a beautiful ass. One of the loveliest in the world. Unfortunately, the ass we're talking about is on her head! This woman is a menace to minimum wage workers. The scourge of Assistants across the globe. For the fourth time, she has been arrested for assaulting an assistant, with a cell phone!

The heiffer is obviously made out of teflon. After a series of assaults, even threatening to push one assistant out of a moving car after she assaulted her with another cell phone (Bitch must get free minutes for this stunt!) she has yet to serve time in jail for her evil rampages! Anger Management obviously ain't a major ingredient in this Campbells soup. Obviously, Russell Crowe needs to get on the phone (oops! maybe they should use email) with Naomi and figure out how she gets away with throwing communication devices at underlings, when he did the same thing to a hotel worker and lost out on a shot at an Oscar!

President Bush should hire Naomi as the face of the Guest Worker Program! She could easily be a spokesperson for jobs Americans just won't do. We need guest workers, because nobody else will wash this guttersnipes' draws and let her hit them in the head with a phone and not KILL DA BITCH!



BRANDY! What the hell??? Looks like somebody is on the Whitney Houston Crack & Cigarettes Diet. The poor child ain't even filling out her panties anymore. Brandy, seriously, eat a biscuit and stop running after basketball players who play you again and again. PREDICTION: Implants before the next CD release, desperate times take desperate measures.





WHY CAN'T THE BOYS BE MORE LIKE ELLEN? Ellen Degeneres is at the peak of her career, and she's out and proud. Yes, she went through a lot of hell when she first came out, but her talent cannot be denied. She's at the top of her game with her talk show, which means she is embraced by the millions of str8 women who tune in everyday, and the sponsors who once walked away are now lining up to sell their wares on her show. Now when are some closeted celebrity males going to come out and be a role model for the boys? Ryan???

What the HELL is Teri Hatching? I read Teri Hatcher's tearful article in Vanity Fair. The sexual abuse ordeal she went through as a child was horrendous. So was her marriage, that was so sexless that she can pinpoint the day she conceived her daughter because she and her husband only had sex once that year! An now this... Teri has chosen to give her heart, hank of hair and bones to Ryan Seacrest. This sniveling, preening, oportunistic runt is a one way ticket to another sexless marriage. I can see it now, Teri Hatcher, Liza Minelli, Terry MacMillan, and Star Jones starring in, "Desperate Beards." Why Teri, why? Well, I guess you can look forward to sharing clothes and hair care products.

How Did It Last So Long? Russell & Kimora Lee Simmons have announced their divorce. I'm so sad I'm spitting up last weeks chicken bones! If the queen of Relentless Consumption and the King of Yoga & Franchise-zation can't make a go of it in any one of their six homes, then is there any hope for the rest of us? I must admit I have a soft spot in my head for Kimora. The Vanity Fair interview she did last year had me rolling on the couch laughing. The way she swore she would "beat a bitches' ass!" if she ever found Russell with another woman was classic Drag Queen Chic! But now that her Baby Phat line is outselling Russell's Phat Farm brand, I guess Kimoron has outgrown her diminuitive hubby. The biggest thing about Russell was his wallet, and now hers is bigger and harder than his. I wish the soon-to-be former Mrs. Simmons the best in her quest to be the soon-to-be former Ru Paul.




What in the 'Clay Aiken' happened to the Canadian Idol? Most of you probably don't know Kalan Porter, the second Canadian Idol. I was in Vancouver the year he won, and he was a really cute Canadian farm boy with, a great voice. Now, it looks like he's turned into one of Ellen's X-wives! Boy, you need to get back to your roots. Death to stylists!!!

¡Si, se puede!

It was the first time on the Metro in Los Angeles for my partner and myself. I thought it would be an easy trip, no big deal. We arrived at the Hollywood & Vine Station, parked our car and made our way to the machine to purchase cards.

It took a few minutes for us to figure out exactly how the machines work, but we did it. Then we headed toward the trains, but couldn't find a place to swipe our cards. On the platform, I asked a stranger if we did something wrong, because we didn't swipe our $3.00 All Day passes. He informed us that the Metro works on an "honor system," riders are expected to buy a pass, but you don't really have to use it. (Although at random times there are guards watching who will stop you if you don't purchase a pass.) I was flabbergasted! I'm from New York! If the NYC transit worked on an honor system, they wouldn't make a dime! How innocent. How naive. How L.A. I love L.A.!

When the train to Union Station in Downtown L.A. arrived, it was packed! Sardines have more room. Absolutely no one was able to board a train heading downtown. Why? Because we were all heading to a demonstration against proposed Federal legislation that calls for building a 700 mile wall along the Mexican border and making felons of illegal immigrants and all those who offer them help. When I first heard of this bill a few weeks ago, I was deeply ashamed of my country. So this morning when my partner mentioned he might like to go to the demonstration, I was down for the cause.

We wound up taking the train going in the opposite direction to North Hollywood. The end of the line was three stops back, but this was the only way we could get on board because the people united were out in force. When the train arrived at the last stop, it was immediately filled by Latinos from many different countries. Men, women, children and enfants squashed against each other and the doors, but it didn't matter. The mood was light. There was laughter and excitement in the air as our packed train made it's way to Pershing square where we all headed for the demonstration.

The streets were filled with people waving flags from Mexico, Guatemala, the United States and other Latin American countries. They were holding signs delcaring themselves hard workers, not felons. My partner and I joined the march in the middle of 3rd Street, chanting "¡Sí, se puede!" which means, "Yes, it's possible!" Possible to be free. Possible to pursue dreams and aspirations. Possible to feed families, and support relatives back home. Possible...

As we chanted along in Spanish, my partner noted that we were like the White people on Showtime At The Apollo, nervously chanting "wop-wop!" with a crowd Blacks. I laughed, because it was true, and we did feel a little out of place. We were the only Black faces we could find in a sea of brown, with a few speckles of White. Many people smiled and nodded at us, thanking us for our support and solidarity. We were there because the immigration issues that will be debated next week affect us all. Many of the best people I know have immigrated to the United States for opportunity. People that I dearly love, are still struggling for a fair shake, a chance to pursue dreams and live openly and freely as they could never do in their own countries.

As we marched, and I looked at the people and their beautiful children, felt their passion and determination I wondered what was happening to my country. Since 9/11 the threat of terrorism has been used to promote racism. Politicians scare people into believing that our security is compromised by people seeking the same opportunites the Pilgrims, Irish, Jewish, Italians, and other ethnic groups have sought. (My people happen to have been "imported" to be enslaved.) Conservatives paint the majority of immigrants with the same brush used on those who disobey laws and fill prisons in this country. It's always the case, the misdeeds of the few seem to outweigh the good deeds of the many. And the rantings of the ignorant fuel hatred in the fearful leading to dog fights amongst the 'have nots' for scraps from the tables of the 'have alls'.

There is an insidious hatred filling this country, and it's growing at an incredible pace. INTOLERANCE is the new BLACK. Intolerance against immigrants, against homosexuals, against the poor, against the elderly, against the sick, against those who speak out against the government. We are whittling away our own constitutional rights, because we are encouraged to not feel safe. It's "V FOR VENDETTA" right before our very eyes.

As I marched with a crowd 500,000 strong, I was doing it for my children to come. I was doing it because I don't want to live in a Police State, and that is exactly where we are heading when legislation such as this is passed by the House of Representatives! Who the hell are these people? They don't represent me.

It's not easy to open your doors, or to open your hearts to the "others." But they are people just like us, the majority just looking to make better lives. They are people who love this country, work hard, and share their rich and wonderful cultures, which only enhances ours. What are we so afraid of? If we change what the Statue of Liberty, what the United States of America has always stood for because of fear, then the terrorist have won.

The chants of the marchers still ring in my ears, because it is the truth, and the truth can't be denied.
"¡Aquí estamos, no nos vamos!" We are here, we are not going!
DEAL WITH IT!

U.S. Patent Office Don't Play Dat!

Dear U.S Patent and Trademark Office,
I am writing this letter to thank you for having the common sense and decency to reject Damon Wayans' bid to trademark the name, "NIGGA" for his proposed clothing line. In fact, you have dismissed this bid twice, along with the misguided attemps of numerous others to trademark this word.

I applaud you for upholding the act by Congress that says you cannot register a word that is scandalous or that disparages a particular group. Although Mr. Wayans may stand on his soapbox and argue, like many others, that "Nigga" is a term of endearment for a segment of the Black population, and by owning the word we diffuse it's derogatory power; we all know the bottom line is, Mr. Wayans is anticipating this label will stir up a lot of controversy which will result in huge sales that will line his pockets with cash, because he can count on the ignorant to jump on the SHORT BUS with him.

Please, U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, don't back down from your stance, uphold the dignity of those who can see past the all mighty dollar, and recognize that words have power and have been used throughout history to provoke, demoralize, belittle and exploit.

Mr. Wayans' has somehow confused what might be funny in an IN LIVING COLOR sketch, with what would be inflamatory in the real world. Perhaps it's because his tired TV show, MY WIFE AND KIDS, has been canceled, or maybe it's because his real life WIFE has canceled their marriage and is demanding huge alimony checks to support his numerous KIDS. Whatever the reason, don't let this CLOWN manipulate the standards of our government and the dignity of a people to reignite a faltering career and diminishing bank account.

The next time Mr. Wayans applies for this patent, turn him down, but offer him an alternative. How about Club Foot Shoes? Since Mr. Wayans was born with a club foot, that he has dilegently masked throughout his career, perhaps he would get a "kick" out of it - pun intended. Or better yet, maybe he would get a sense of how humiliating labels can be, and limp his lame azz back to the drawing board.

In closing, U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, I want to give you "two snaps up in a V for Victory" and thank you once again for protecting the American people from the ego of a comedian so desperate for attention and money that he can't hear his ancestors screaming and spinning in their graves.

Respectfully,
chyman@blogspot.com