Newness...

Bigger, better things to come from iCandy...stay tuned!

NO CHURCH IN THE WILD

Today, Super Soul Sunday on Oprah's OWN network featured Harvard-trained brain researcher Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor, who had the astonishing opportunity to study her own brain responses as she endured a massive stroke at age 37, when a blood vessel burst on the left side of her brain. In her book, "My Stroke of Insight," Dr. Taylor details revelations she made about the mind/body connection as she physically worked through the feelings of being present in her body, but with the loss of language and details and movement to express her thoughts. The left hemisphere controls linear, rational thought, problem-solving, details; it is the ego of one's personality. Right-brain functions are more about the present moment, big picture perception, intuition-driven. Dr. Taylor made many observations regarding left-brain and right-brain functions that basically left her with the realization that inner peace (right hemisphere-led) can be accomplished if we learn to shut down some of our constant questioning and information processing (left-hemisphere stuff).

"Pay attention to what you are thinking, and then decide if those are thoughts that are creating the kind of life you want created," she says. "And if it's not, then change your thoughts. It's really that easy."

Call it my "a-ha" moment, but I knew right when I heard her say this, that I am in need of my own stroke. Fortunately, I don't have to go down that debilitating road that Dr. Taylor suffered through; my paralysis, examination and recovery will be self-inflicted.

See, lately my thoughts have been consumed by many things, people, situations that are mostly negative energy: things I can't control, people who have slighted me and situations that have shown me jealousy, envy, anger and just plain crazy. "Friendships" that exist no more or that have been revealed as fake; toxic, draining relationships more work than they are worth; situations from the career to courtrooms, woven out of lies and strange circumstances and even stranger alliances...actually, it's miraculous that I haven't suffered a real stroke. These subjects have taken all the left-brain energy I have, while trying to figure out, mostly, "why?" I've been disappointed and a little sad, but overall, just exhausted. Tired of left-brain activity, and as a Gemini, I really go through it. It's what I'm made of. But hearing Dr. Taylor say "change my thoughts" to change my life struck a chord with me. It would also mean I must shift my position on things: how I look at issues and with whom I choose to relate and socialize. And so be it. The negative energy and its' sources, must go. (Most of the "ships" have sailed anyway, so it is an easy feat.)

"Take responsibility for the energy you bring."

Situations, people, experiences that I choose now, must bring positive energy into my space, or none at all. The peace that I seek, is within me, just on the right-side of my own head. There's no solace to be sought outside, until I first reach inside, meditatively, assuredly, quietly. The processing of the left-brain imposes boundaries, creates separations, files situations. Once I effectively shut that down, I can be free to live in the moment, with no perceptions of the past, none of the future, just here, presently. Like Dr. Taylor, I will re-learn to walk and talk, in a different way, among different circles. Re-invention, re-creation, re-intention. I will live a little more on my right side, using my imagination and creativity even more, learning to listen, pay attention to my thoughts. There is no church in the wild; it's within. "A-ha."

LINK PINK!

Today marks the start of Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Every October for 27 years now, advocates for prevention and cure have promoted awareness of breast cancer issues tirelessly, making the month not only a tribute to lives lost but a celebration of the many women - and men - who have survived the disease. It is estimated that each year, 200,000 women and nearly 1,700 men are diagnosed with breast cancer, but with increased awareness and open dialogue, prevention and early detection are on the rise and patients are coping better and surviving the disease in increasingly higher numbers.

Please take some time this month to explore “pink possibilities:” check some of the links I’ve listed below to learn more about the disease, donate to finding a cure, sign up for a walk, run, or other benefit event, or even shop pink products knowing that a portion of the proceeds go to the cause. Think Pink!

ORGANIZATIONS:

* National Breast Cancer Foundation

* Pink Ribbon International

* Circle of Promise - meet the Queens of Keeping it Real

SHOP PINK:

* Pink Pony by Ralph Lauren

* BJ’s & Proctor & Gamble join forces to support breast cancer research

* NFL Shop has Breast Cancer Awareness gear from your favorite team!

NATIONWIDE EVENTS:

* AVON Walk for Breast Cancer (NYC, Oct. 15-16)

* Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure

* Pink Illumination is a global recognition of the awareness drive, and features prominent architectural landmarks bathed in pink light on October 1. Some scenes from past years are below.

MISSONI IMPOSSIBLE

OK…my calendar was marked for weeks: I knew September 13 was D-Day, as in the day to get my azz on a line, either in person or on the web, to cop the wares from the Missoni For Target collaboration. The iconic design house and the larger-than-life retailer both dropped hints for months, and every major September fashion issue featured at least one piece: a cosmetic case here, a sweater twin set there. By the time the television ads began to air, I can honestly say that I was near salivating at the thought of chevrons and zig zags becoming my new “style” signature.

Then Fashion’s Night Out hit, and the pop-up shop here in NYC remained an enigma: I was denied entrance due to alleged “sold out” status after only 6 hours of retail traffic. After pouting a bit in FNO disappointment, “a minor hiccup,” I thought; the launch date was still on the horizon, and with a “Tar-jay” Red Card account on my side, I was confident I’d get mine, in due time.

Tuesday, Sept. 13th, I awoke at my usual time, around 6:30 a.m. I didn’t have alarms or reminders set. I checked Twitter to find that there were die-hards who tried at midnight — something I’d not even thought of (…what the hell? It’s not like these were Jay-Z tickets or anything) — but much to their dismay, most were not successful at placing orders. I logged into my Target account around 7:15 a.m., and smiled at the Missoni smorgasboard that seemed to unroll before me. I surfed around, very non-chanlantly, putting things in the online cart, then, “oh no, girl; you don’t need that,” taking them out again…just meandering around the site the way one strolls down Main Street in the Hamptons on a summer Sunday afternoon. I’d worked my way up to eight items in the cart and decided to leave it at that and checkout when, right after I’d entered my credit card info, the site crashed! White screen. ”Internal Server Error.” WTF?? I refreshed. Same screen. I used the “back” button. Twice. Nothing. I opened a new tab and logged onto the site fresh. Nada. Now, my cheeks were getting flushed. I picked up my mobile and checked the haps on Twitter. The tweets all started asking the same question: ”is the site down for maintenance?” “What’s Target doing?” “Did we crash it?!”

I looked at the clock. It was 8:04. Awwwww, lawd!! Did shoppers storm the site in sync with the stores open time?? All I had to do was place my order by 8 a.m., and I probably would have been cool! Damn, this CAN’T be happening!!! I checked the tabs I’d opened again, and then opened three more. I was logging onto Target.com from window to window, over and over. Now, it seems, Target web masters were clued in, because the cute little Bullseye doggie was now on the page, with a little tool box by his side. Great. What a Mess-oni.

But one little saving grace: every time I refreshed, the cart icon on the top right of my page still had a number “8” on top. I’d logged in to shop, so: Were my items still in the cart?? Would they be there when the site came back up? Ah! I can’t quit this now!

The power of social media had me hanging on through 11 a.m. on this Missoni-mission; I was fed constant updates through @TargetStyle and @Target (who, by the way, replied to my tweet directly, saying they were working on the getting the problem fixed). This helped me keep hope alive, and also slightly entertained by the irate tweets and eyewitness accounts of women everywhere - and clueless guys - who were experiencing Missoni fights, heartbreaks or victories that morning.

When I was able to hit the site at 11:15, my cart came back up, less 4 items, but I didn’t dally: I entered my info tout suite and placed the order. Before I even checked email for the confirmation, I quickly opened another tab to the site, chose more items (some were same pieces in different sizes - hey, this is still cheap stuff, you never know what a real L is like), and was able to place another order. My confirms came, I finally breathed and was able to get dressed and leave the house before 1 p.m. Missoni accomplished!!

Since that day, I received notes from Target almost everyday: ”your order has been delayed,” “the orders has been partially shipped,” etc. And I’ve actually been to a few stores, and was able to come up on various items in-store. Of course, I’ve seen women break out their togs already, and I must say, one girl at the DMV wearing the dress I ordered had me worried (“Oh, God, it’s gonna look like that on me?!”) But, I finally have received all parts of my online orders, and I must say, I’m quite pleased. Check out some of my Missoni swag below. Now, my concern is working this in with my many real Missoni pieces so I don’t see myself coming down every street.

Future classics?

Don’t hate!

For the home.

Winning!!

LEGENDS OF THE FALL

It's not a death. It's a change. A transformation. The beginning of the end of a cycle. A "clearing," if you will. And I welcome it. It's fitting that Rosh Hashanah (Hebrew for "head of the year") is a late September celebration in the Jewish faith: the start of a new year in a transformative season where one can literally witness the change of the leaves, the maturity of the harvest, the early slumber of the sun signaling shortened days, the cooler temps...all indicators that our surroundings will somehow be different.

While Spring may be linked to birth and growth, Fall personifies maturity, a readiness to learn, to adapt. School years matriculate in this period, a fresh start to learning, the commencement to the next level by casting away a layer or two. A famous ad campaign continues to question: "What becomes a legend most?" The unspoken answer: those with staying power, evolutionary prowess, reinventive ingenuity.

I am in my "clearing." I thought I was done, but I have been shown there is a little bit yet to do. More pieces and people need to fall away. I welcome the change, look forward to the lessons, and know that it is not just what I witness, but what I, too become. And I am legendary. Let's go.

"Summer is already better, but the best is autumn. It is mature, reasonable and serious, it glows moderately and not frivolously...It cools down, clears up, makes you reasonable..."

Valentin, Finnish author

You'd Kill Yourself Over Me? Gee, Thanks

"N-n-now that that don't kill me/Can only make me stronger..."

'Stronger,' Kanye West

There's this horrible disease going around; you may have heard of it. It begins with a series of symptoms that are sometimes easy to miss: fear, insecurity, lack of self-esteem or self-worth. Often, people who come down with this ailment mask it so well, one can't readily diagnose the illness, but often, like a virus, the disease spreads; a contagion that floats from one unhappy, miserable soul to another. But the irony is, the illness is borne out of the negative wishes and intent to do harm to others.

Envy, little brother to Jealousy, is a silent killer disease that is dangerous to everyone involved. Projections of self-doubt, magnifications of personal problems, the result of missed opportunities, the learned behavior of a heritage of failure and low self-esteem, are all reminders of who you aren't and who you wish to be. Think about it. And he who suffers the greatest would act on those symptoms, the one driven so mad by envy he would go out of his way to pass his disease to you. The one who has time on his hands to fabricate stories, weave tales of lies and hope for your demise surely has very little going on for himself. No job? Failed or failing relationships, marriage, parenting? Can't get a project off the ground? Financial struggles? Sounds about right. The universe has a way of balancing actions. (Uh, "karma," anyone?)

What kind of person makes themselves ill in this manner? Why want what others have anyway? Other's destinies are rewards and results of their lot, whether by chance, by prayer, by sweat, or perhaps by means that they themselves will answer to at another time. The trappings of success, beauty, wealth and even love are very specific to individuals. Just because that guy’s fashion line is successful, doesn’t mean yours would be, even in the same market. That girl’s nose on you would not guarantee you the cover of the magazine. Money is funny – not everyone gains or spends it with the same results. And love, well love is the tricky one. If one is envious of a situation, be it a romantic relationship, a marriage, a friendship or family, we completely miss the point of those situations: all are built on love. Jealousy and envy are not loving emotions, so the more one expresses negative action towards loving concepts, the farther away one places himself from just that ideal. In short, the negativity behind jealousy and envy backfires, with the intended target not the only victim.

So, hate on, hater. I guess since you would commit suicide over me proves you actually love me. Damn, I'm flattered.

"Fortunate is the One who has learned to admire, but not to envy."

-- Unknown, quoted as a Ramadan blessing

A LOVE SUPREME?

Wow, what a run the last 30 days or so has been. Where I started out the year trying to live in truth and in the light; in humility and in service, as usual, someone sees it fit to throw their wrench into my works. In my mind, I have crashed my car into the offenders and run them straight over. I have rang their doorbell, only to have them answer and I rush in and tackle them to the floor, beating them senseless. In one of my best mind-revenge plots, I set fire to their house while standing laughing on the lawn. But, alas, I have no time for jail time, so those scenarios remain unplayed, unrehearsed, even. Rather, in dealing with the circumstances, I have looked to land here, and tell my tale in sarcastic, caustic tone, to vent the emotions. Many times, my fingers landed on the letters to make up the words, phrases and sentences to describe the characters and their traits, but in doing so, my digits made clamor, the tips hurt...I struck the Mac Air keys with such angry force, I startled myself.

You can't do this. This is not how you said you'd live. He who asks for protection cannot fight another's. Literally, it came to me in the last hour of my birthday: a beloved book fell from the shelf. When I reached to pick it up, my fingers grasped the dog-eared page that was a message I desperately needed to hear.

From Iyanla Van Zant's Acts of Faith:

The moment we have a negative experience, we get stuck in what was done and how it was done to us. We must learn not to take life so personally. People are not really out to get us. Events are not waiting to befall us. We are all moving to get where we want to be. As a result, we will sometimes step on each others' toes. When we find ourselves in a conflict or confrontation we must know how to love ourselves out of it. Love means recognizing fear as an operand condition that sometimes makes us do and say things we really don't mean. Love means opening our hearts and minds to our best, regardless of what is going on. Love means not attacking, but supporting, not defending, but seeking clarity. Love means knowing that, in the end, we will all be okay even if it means we have to give up a little of something. Let us learn to give up anger and fear by replacing those things with love.

--I am loving you and me out of this situation.

On this day, the summer solstice, I give all the faith I have unto my love, my love supreme, to guide me out and away from the situations, scenes and swindlers who continue to try to steal my joy. And you should do the same.

USE 'EM (OR LOSE 'EM!)

We’ve roughly 100 days of this concept called “summer,” so while spontaneity is sexy, sometimes it’s best to plan ahead. iCandy wants to help with this little guide (below) to some choice events and awesome photo ops in and around the NYC/ NJ /PHL /DC area on the radar from May through September. By no means complete, it can serve as a reminder to check for other updates to come, like Brooklyn’s Wingate Park (terminally slow with their info) and Good Morning America’s concert series in Central Park (they dropped names -- Beyonce, MJB, JHud, Nicki Minaj -- but no dates yet). To keep it tight, no hyperlinks were added, but Google any event listed here with the date, or check the web addresses included on some calendars at the bottom, and you’re sure to get all the details you need. We concentrated on mostly music concerts and mostly FREE events (unless you see “$”), so there’s NO excuse to get yo' azz up, throw on your fresh gear (cuz broke/cheap folk are usually the flyest), and post at some of these spots! Memories are made of such moves…Happy 100.

KEEPIN' IT "ONE HUNN'ED"

LET'S SEE YOUR DIRTY BIT

Spring is trying it's best to get into a groove, at least in some parts of the country. 'Tis the season: Baby showers. Proms. Graduations. And our favorite, weddings. Although we suspect few people are as creative and talented as this couple (word is that they are both graphic artists for NBC), wouldn't it be a blast to film other events of your life like this, flash-mob style? There's actually a company in Miami that you can pay to follow you around like the paparazzi and shoot pics and video. Most people do the obvious, like clubbing and limo-hopping. Don't laugh -- you'd do it in a second with some throw-away money. But switch it up: take the film crew along when you hit the gym, drop the kids at soccer practice or stroll the aisles at the supermarket.

The point is, we should all be stars in our own videos, everyday. The fact that these folks turned their wedding into a full production - in more ways than one - is a testament to their relationship. They took the drama out of the day and had fun with it. We can do the same. So toss your hair just a bit when you chat up the salesclerk. Strike a pose at the bus stop while wearing your sexy sunshades. Lick your lips LL-style while primping in the mirror. The confidence you gain by feeling as though "you're on," in your "dirty bit" mode will be worth every second. Then laugh and get over yourself. Repeat often. And have the time of your life.

HOW MANY OF US HAVE THEM?

"Friends...ones we can depend on?"

You know how it goes. Classic hip-hop by Whodini. (Who? LOL) Real talk, though, have we ever considered the lyrics, the question that is posed?

Over the last few months, I've experienced quite a few episodes which have led me to examine the concept of friendship...not that I'd never pondered the premise before, but in the spirit of spring cleaning and spiritual cleansing, it was worth another look. And, clearly, many others have similarly recently felt the same...see these choice tweets and posts collected from many of my friends, followers and followees:

"Sometimes, saying sorry doesn't mean you're wrong. It means u value the friendship more than your ego." Kristine T

"...and *good friends become strangers. Word up." RF

"Rather have a real enemy than a fake friend." MR

"...I get it. Even after all the long conversations, flirty texts, flirting in person, talking 24/7, I'm just your friend." LQx

"You cannot say you've lost a friend. If a friendship is capable of ending, it is because it never really existed." Jas

"I always felt that the great high privilege, relief and comfort of friendship was that one had to explain nothing." XQ

It's on our minds. It's on our hearts. It's on our nerves. I don't profess to have any answers; in fact, I won't even attempt to philosophize (is that a word?) on the subject, because it's too personal. My version could turn this blog into a diary, Debby Downer-style. But I will offer this: often we define broad concepts by what we know they absolutely are not, to help us get to what we feel they are. So, this, I know:

Friendship is NOT...

-- an opportunity

-- transactional

-- selfish, egotistical or narcissistic

-- a replacement for another relationship

-- an excuse for bad behavior

-- tolerant of jealousy, envy or other ill will

-- to be taken for granted

-- "an understanding" unless everyone indeed "understands"

As with many other words, we tend to fling around "friend" and "friendship" without really thinking. We take up with people fast and dismiss them even more quickly, often with no thought about the roles of friendships, the responsibility for the upkeep, the care and nurture. Stop and consider toxic friendships, those we perhaps have held on to for "too long," or those we pursue when we should probably just leave well enough alone. Whatever your personal belief, be it "things fall apart, and people do, too," or "if it doesn't last forever, it wasn't real," always pause to remember that what you give is a reflection of who you are, what your issues are. And nothing good can grow in distressed soil. Although it has been proven that friendships extend the life cycle, there is no better friend than the one we are to our individual selves. We have a major responsibility to our friend-self to collect people and experiences that enrich our lives, and make us feel special. So start at home.

IT WAS ALL A DREAM...

"Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened." -- Dr. Seuss

Can you believe a full quarter of the year has come and gone? Damn! And I still have a "to do" list with January items on it (no joke). How does that happen? Somewhere between that semester you finally decide to stop playing quarters EVERY night and the one in which you were informed, "yes, you must choose a major," time changed its' speed. Or perhaps the shift occurred during the moment you moved from boyfriend to baby's daddy (or vice versa). Or when it was clear you weren't pro-league material. Or when you started working for the money and not the passion. Whatever the circumstance, there exists one precise tick...and previously perceived dragging gains momentum, hurtling towards some unknown finish line on the course of Life.

Thanks to MTV and BET we can still secretly participate in brief "Spring Break" wild-outs, but remember when "summer recess" was an eternity? I recall living my break in sections, even in years the school calendar was extended due to winter's snow days. My fall discourse on "How I Spent My Summer Vacation," usually filled up two or more pages. Because, as kids, we had appointments, sessions, play-dates; agendas much more full than the average adult's daily life.

For me, summer would kick off with day camp, at a local parks & rec, where I'd spend every weekday, sunrise to sunset, lining up for games and arts & crafts and foot races and swimming with my camp friends (different group than school mates and the block heads). I know now our parents were nuts, leaving us under the supervision of counselors only a few years older, but it was activity-based babysitting, and above all, FREE...and we all survived without major incident.

Next up would be a visit to relatives: great-grandparents, et al. "down south;" my wayward cousins in the D (just the right letter for the "city" slightly to the right of Chicago), or a timely family reunion somewhere far-flung to finally meet the "cousins your age." (A good thing this reunion was too, lest I find myself chatting up a tall, athletic second-cousin at a function somewhere...my family's got some great genes...) If there was a birth or a death, these were celebrated and condolenced also, but I was both lucky and savvy enough to skip hospitals and funerals for the majority of my childhood.

Then there was time to convene with the block crew to trade stories of the summer's happenings to date: How'd you get so dark? What happened to your leg? Did you kiss anyone yet? This was about the halfway point during the long break, so days were still crazy hot, filled with trips up to the public pool, hanging out at the corner store, UNO and spades games on the porch. Our nights were spent chasing fireflies, the ice cream man and each other -- well, in "Catch A Girl/Kiss A Girl," me and the ladies were either running for our lives, or playing slow and feeble on purpose.

A couple summers, I worked. I don't even wanna remember how this started. As a kid, jobs are like tattoos: once you get one, you get hooked. And even though I worked for mere pittance, there's something about earning your own chump change that is quite empowering. That wears off quickly.

I never had to go to summer school to make-up any coursework, so I used the time to get ahead. Somehow, I routinely worked in visits to museums, multiple trips to the library, and sometimes enrolled in cool classes that covered creative disciplines like pottery, photography and architecture. City programs kept me busy some summers: I once attended the famed Illinois Institute of Technology as a participant in an engineering program where I learned binary code and how to dismantle circuit breakers. Uh-huh. (It was during this time I also became a video game junkie and schemed my way home more than once after tricking away all my bus fare.) I read books and completed reports for my mom (where they do that at now?), and I was made to finish the newspaper every day as if my life depended on it. One summer, my task was to learn the city...and if you've ever visited Chicago, uh, this wasn't easy. But, CTA student pass in hand, I boarded the bus and caught the "L" train to destinations my mom doled out in advance. In a short while, The Kid from the far Southside ("ten-tray," so the psuedo-Blackstone Rangers on my block called it) could comfortably roll through Hyde Park, South Shore, Englewood, the Westside, the Gold Coast, Six Corners, Evanston and beyond.

Back in the neighborhood, there were block parties popping off, and our own ave's was okay, but the adventure (read: drama) was on streets unknown. We would bike our way over to an Aunt's or Grandmother's 'hood to check out cuties on other streets, where the inevitable scrap often went down with other chicks who wondered who invited us, where we came from and why we were checking out - and getting play - from their dudes. And when we weren't on the block, we were at the mall, in the park, or at the summer fests, like Taste of Chicago or house music institutions like Sauer's, Mendel or Funky Buddha Lounge.

And let's not forget ball! Chicago is nothing else if not a basketball town, and that goes way back before Michael Jordan, although his legacy totally cemented it. Summer leagues and pick-up games dominated our late summer days and nights. Local playground legends and D-leaguers battled it out with the seasoned pros and "school boys" in gyms across the city, stands full and attentive, like any regular-season NBA game. With scholarships, roster spots, sports page placement and street cred at stake, the baller community was a-buzz -- and so were we!

July would barely leave the calendar before stores would begin to insult our intelligence with displays of school supplies and ads about back-to-school sales. As the First Day loomed, our last days were consumed with preparation: lists and practice and work-outs and try-outs and speculation and anticipation. And the calendar would repeat: the first day, football/band season, Homecoming, final exams, Thanksgiving, Winter Break, etc., etc. But this used to be in a package called Forever. Time took "forever" to pass; it took "forever" for days to come.

One day, in college, between laughing and drinking at a party one night and yawning/crying during a pop quiz in lecture the next day, "forever" left me. Everything that used to take so long to arrive now came in an instant. I blinked and turned my head slightly and I walked across a stage with the diploma I'd just arrive to work towards; the parents who'd only the day before moved me into my dorm were applauding as my name was read and my tassel was turned from right to left. I didn't know it then, but the two odd fellows sitting beside my folks were Time and Forever, waving goodbye. I didn't need that calendar to mark the passing time anymore; holidays would from now on be a reprieve or long weekend to sleep halfway through. Other activities saved to experience vicariously through my niece or future children: back-to-school shopping, school recitals, karate competitions, prepping for prom...

It's not exactly fair that "forever" leaves us way before most of us are ready to truly appreciate the time, but it preps us for realities, like in love, for example. We come to learn that it's really true that nothing lasts that long, and if we're wrong and it does, love might not be the thing we choose for the extended period (I myself would choose summer vacation; forever on a sunny beach with a drink in hand sounds good to me). The lesson learned is that since nothing lasts, use it, live it, remember it. Few things beat sitting around with friends and relatives talking about "the good old days" and the memories we'll have "forever..."

MARCH GLADNESS

There's a Finnish proverb that states, "Happiness is a place between too little and too much." I thought of this saying as I passed time in an airport shop recently, taking in the array of March magazine covers on display. "Where Is Your Happy?" "Make Today Happier!" "25 Ways to Bring Happiness to Your Life." Whoa. Seriously, over a dozen publications shouting the same message. Are we that effed up? By the time I boarded my flight, I felt a touch inadequate, particularly paranoid. "Surely I'm not in the "too-much bucket," but I am in "too little"?" "Do I think I'm happy?" "How do I know?" "Does being happy I escaped middle-seat-hell on this flight count?" If I were fragile and naive, methinks I'd be slightly suicidal. Damn.

But wait! What is "happy," really? And who decides the definitions? Doesn't this qualify as a subjective concept, based on one's own personal experiences, wants, needs, values, situations, etc., etc.? As I fell into my seat I wondered why now, on the eve of Spring, "happy" was a trending topic at the newsstands. Isn't the end to a dark, icy depressing winter estatically sufficient enough? Can't we make do with the promises of Spring Break, Spring Training and spring flowers? Apparently not. The concept of Spring cleaning has been transformed to include not only the clutter in our closets, but also the messiness in our minds, in our lives.

Only two months ago, many of us became steadfastly resolute about diets, commitments to watch our language, shop less, exercise more...we all know where we are on those personal journeys at this moment. Many of us fell off the rah-rah wagon long ago; Super Bowl weekend is a killer for most plans that involve eating, drinking, smoking, gambling, and a host of other vices. But now, in March, without guilt, "Spring cleaning" can be a checkpoint of sorts, to examine progress and get back on track if need be. A new day, a fresh beginning. And the easiest way to rev up to a new start is to realize the connection between our selves and our space.

Principles of feng shui, an ancient Chinese art defined as the path to happiness and success through one's living and working environments, suggest that clutter drags your energy down. Similar to the ancient art of acupuncture, the goal is to promote free-flowing chi, or good energy. Experts in the practice will tell you that disarray is stagnant and blocks the blessings of positivity, prosperity, harmony and good health. Now, although you don't need a 3,000-year-old science to tell you what your mother used to back in the day ("Clean this damn house or I'm gonna ruin your weekend!"), it's good to know she was on to something. Mama was always a little more mellow when the house was clean...

I propose you work on both your space and self simultaneously. (Hell, time is short these days; we all need to learn the value of multi-tasking.) Dust with diligence: brush dirt from the blinds to welcome the longer, sunnier Spring days (space); blow dust off those old ideas and activities you've set aside, and get moving, be adventurous (self)! Comfort is key: purge old, useless collectibles like clothes that no longer fit, as well as ill-fitting relationships. (Think about it.) Sort through piles rather purposefully: unopened mail creates the same clutter as unchecked memories. File those important, useful pieces and chuck the rest! Go deep and ditch dirty habits, toss toxic behaviors and quit unfulfilling jobs, organizations and affiliations. (Sounding personal, now, hunh?)

You get the idea. "Clean your clutter, change your life." Read like a true cover story feature line! Because the real point is to have more time, energy and maybe even money to do the things that actually make you happy. So try it. Start small. Sing in the shower. Practice yoga. Play with your dog. Volunteer!! Explore new places. Spend time with family. Clean your purse, your desk, your car, your damn house. (Mama said.)

LOVE & BASKETBALL

February. Although it's the shortest month of the year, it sure packs a punch on the event horizon. Not only playing host to the other over-hyped occasion I recently chronicled, but also Black History Month, the Grammys, the Oscars, and lately, even the Super Bowl has managed to slide down the calendar and land squarely on a Sunday during Solmonath. However, the most anticipated merge of the sports and entertainment worlds is an annual NBA ritual known as All-Star Weekend. Sigh. Originally a celebration of the league's best and brightest and their athletic prowess, it's now some of that and a whole lot of "party and bullsh*t..." highlighting some of the worst social behavior and negative stereotypes, especially regarding women.

Don't get me wrong...i'm not a hater. In fact, back in the day, come February, you couldn't find me anywhere else, especially if the chosen locale was blessed with a decently warm climate: Phoenix, Dallas, L.A., et al. Nice late-winter temps signaled the early test-run of a mini that was reserved for Spring Break; a pair of sexy, open-toe sandals or stilettos; or a barely-there six-pack-revealing top (and yes, I said "six-pack;" I have photos for non-believers.). All in the name of, well you know, looking "hot." But for whom? For what? Parading around a club in front of pro ballers and fake-letes: those tall dudes who pose as players to get celeb-level access to girls, clubs, and VIP bottle service? Nah, I'm good now. (My, how my priorities have changed.)

Surprisingly, though, some of my favorite activities of All-Star Weekends past had little to do with the after-parties, hotel lobbies, or kicking it at The Mall. (You thought I was going there, didn't you? Different post, for a different day...) For many years, I volunteered with agencies that staffed the NBA's free- and fan-programs that kick off the All-Star agendas each February, like the Block Party, the Fan Jam and other special events like court and park dedications. I've retrieved wayward Nerf basketballs on small-scale courts for pint-sized point guards; kept the queue from becoming unruly at autograph sessions; and even planted spring blooms in a newly landscaped public playground. Now, truthfully, I initially signed up for these duties as a way to gain entry to some of the events and access to athletes, however, I quickly came to see the value of this service and how the league, its' athletes and employees give back to various communities and causes. Somehow, the service aspect resonated with my own personal basketball jones: I'd been a fan of the game since I was knee-high, thanks to the legion of men in my circle of family and friends who not only played but coached, mentored and trained young athletes. I'd seen countless contests in my life, but the off-court commitment to education, sports participation and community outreach touched me in a very different way than the sport itself. I realized the power of celebrity, the influence of fame, via the vehicle of athletics, and how it could be used for good, rather than evil (like collecting groupies for sport).

Utilizing resources and influence to "give back" is paramount, and while the charitable acts of multi-millionaires may not interest the entire fan base, kids and their families benefit nonetheless. And that can't be a bad thing.

This year, I attended the 60th NBA All-Star Game in Los Angeles; it was thrilling to watch Kobe pick up MVP honors right in his backyard, and witness crowd-rocking performances by Lenny Kravitz, Rihanna and Kanye West. But while I didn't get an opportunity to participate in L.A.-area events such as the Two Kings Charity gymnasium dedication at a Boys & Girls Club or Paul Pierce's inaugural All-Star Health & Fitness Event, hosted by his former high school, I did get in some love & basketball in my own neighborhood before I headed West.

Sports and fitness company Nike declared February 13th as a "Day of Service" at Brooklyn's Taylor-Wythe Community Center. Volunteers from all over the city gathered to prep the aging facility to receive the basketball court used at last summer's World Basketball Festival at Radio City Music Hall. The gym was in need of fresh paint, so Nike put the call out for weekend artists, influencers and painter-types to lend a hand in order for neighborhood kids to realize their hardwood dreams on the same floor graced by USA Basketball team and NBA players Kevin Durant, Rajon Rondo, Russell Westbrook and more. (See the gym's transformation here.) I spent a few hours perfecting my painting technique on a really cool mural drawn on one entire wall of the gym.

As the year moves on, it is my mission to inspire you to be an All-Star in your community. Seek out opportunities to get involved and do some good. Even with questionable intent such as mine -- a chance years ago to gain free access to events and meet some athletes -- something and someone ultimately benefitted from my time and participation. Not a bad by-product of a groupie move, eh?

MY PHONY VALENTINE

Special day, that February 14th is. Not only popular for engagements and weddings, but did you know that the divorce rate surges upwards of 40% on the fated date? And countless break-ups and revenge plots, no doubt.

Opposite end of the spectrum: over-the-top advertisements, the aisles of candy hearts, rose-toting teddy bears and red and pink explosions that appear mere moments after we've only just put the ornaments away from the last holiday.

So, in this time of extremes, keep your wits about you: whether you believe Valentine's Day is a contrived consumer mechanism "celebrated" to ring registers or, an homage to some wayward saint whose history actually might be divvied up between three different priests...be smart enough to know that "love" shouldn't be delegated one single 24-hour period. (Especially one where the banks, post offices and court houses are all still open, i.e., not a holiday.)

Even greeting card giant Hallmark, who will forever be associated with creating this and other "fake" holidays (hence the phrase "Hallmark holiday"), has changed their slogan for their 2011 campaigns. They now submit that "Life is a Special Occasion." Exactly. Don't wait for a designated day to buy your girl those cold carnations in cellophane from the corner bodega. Ladies, get your guy the latest celeb-scent any day you want, so you can close your eyes, snuggle up to him and channel Diddy/Jeter/Usher/Justin. The calendar can't tell you when to express your love!

And by the same measure, be sensitive to those who do choose to observe the day -- don't let the date dictate a dastardly deed like serving divorce papers or initiating a break-up. You can do that on any given Sunday. Be kind, and don't rewind by linking it to a day that must be re-lived by your ex- every year, thanks to corporate greed and societal pressure! (Massacre, indeed.) That's just mean. (Check more anti-VDay sentiment here.)

On the real, though, without sounding preachy, just wanna remind us all to love ourselves and be kind to each other, regardless of the day. Don't wait for a holiday to give a little gift, say "I love you," or express how you feel. Every day is worthy is your love is worthy. And phony valentines: if you're with someone just to fulfill a need -- and you know what it is (sex, money, housing, cell phone bill, etc...) -- remember, it all comes back to you...

Happy Valentine's Day! (or, Happy Monday!)

LOVE ME? PLEASE LIKE ME, TOO...

Once, when I was a kid, I overheard a scolding in a supermarket: a little boy was screaming and acting

"ka-razy" in the basket; his mom was at her wits' end. After a few tight-lipped words that concluded with her grabbing some shelf item he'd tossed in the cart behind him, she grabbed his little collar and said softly: "You know, Mommy loves you, but sometimes, she really doesn't like you."

I have remembered that to this day. It horrified me to think that there could be love without liking someone! How could that be? Weren't they the same thing? As I have liked, loved and lived, I have definitely discovered the difference. While like is pure, instant, and real, love can be obligatory, forced, extreme. Like says, "I'm around you because I want to be." Love often says, "I'm around you because I have to be."

In honor of this month full of reasons to think about hearts and red and pink and sweets and gifts and flowers (or poke your eyes out at the thought of it all), I thought I'd share excerpts from one of my favorite books. "I Like You," was written by Sandol Stoddard in 1965, but the message is timeless. I have given this book to only one person, ever, who at the time I absolutely adored. I don't own a copy, as I believe that one should be gifted this simple little story in celebration or recognition of a special relationship. When I found it years ago, it was the "a-ha" moment that clearly illustrated for me, the importance of "like" in love.

**********************

I like you

And I know why I like you because You are a good person To like I like you because When I tell you something special You know it's special And you remember it A long long time You say Remember when you told me Something special And both of us remember When I think something is important You think it's important too When I say something funny You laugh I think I'm funny and You think I'm funny too...

...If I pretend I am drowning

You pretend you are saving me If I am getting ready to pop a paper bag Then you are getting ready to jump That's because You really like me You really like me Don't you? And I really like you back And you like me back And I like you back And that's the way we keep on going Every day If you go away then I go away too Or if I stay home You send me a postcard You don't just say Well see you around Some time Bye I like you a lot because of that...

...I like you because I don't know why but Everything that happens Is nicer with you I can't remember when I didn't like you It must have been lonesome then I like you because because I forget why I like you But I do So many reasons...

...I would go on choosing you And you would go on choosing me Over and over again That's how it would happen every time I don't know why I guess I don't know why I like you really Why do I like you? I guess I just like you I guess I just like you Because I like you