#ExSelf

Last school year (sophomore in college that is), a friend of mine discovered my talent for singing I guess you could say. Of course, I knew that I loved to sing, but it was never something that I claimed to know how to do or do well. It was just something I did ALL the time. When I was all alone. I've never had voice lessons a day in my life so I've never really had confidence in my own ability. And no one has ever really commented on my singing, but again, I didn't truly sing for anyone - not even my family. I still don't know what the heck I'm doing. Singing has just always been something I've enjoyed doing and hearing. I didn't necessarily think I was bad, but I didn't think I was good either. For me, singing (for the most part) just came so effortlessly that I had convinced myself that I couldn't really sing or that I wasn't doing something quite right. I did know that I had a good ear though: I would sing along with artists, but never on the same note. My tendency was and still is to harmonize (I've discovered that's not so great when you're singing with a choir #oops). I just like turning songs into beautiful duets #whatcanisay it sounds so pretty!
I probably used the wrong musical terminology in those last two sentences. But again, I don't know music. At least not that well. I did play the alto sax in the 6th - 8th grades... and haven't touched it since #shamed.

Anyway, since @jrousethemouse's discovery, she has not gotten off my case. It was sing this, sing that... Now sing it again with your diaphragm. Somehow the song "Ex-Factor" by Lauryn Hill became my theme song for spring semester. It was the song that got most of my vocal attention. And Jas would harmonize with me. By the time we wore that song out, I had really made it my own. So much my own that I was forgetting what the original ever sounded like. My version of it is really MY version. I've always been this way with singing. Once I hear a song enough and get comfortable with the lyrics, I just start to hear it differently in my head. I put myself into the song, and something new comes out. Same words, but a different voice. When I sing other artists' songs, I'm not trying to imitate them. I'm trying to do just the opposite. Put so much distance between that artist's song and my version that they become incomparable. It's no fun doing what somebody else has already done - especially if they've been in the game for a minute and have done it 1,000x better. I love Lauryn Hill; she's one of my favorite singers. It's not that she has the greatest voice in the world, but she has a different voice - her OWN voice. You do what works for you. Don't make your voice fit the song, I've learned, but make the song fit your voice. There are things that one singer can do that I won't be able to or that I won't be able to do as well. So the solution? Do something else. And do it BEST.  I don't want to be the girl who sounds like X. I wanna be the girl who adds her own #lainaflava.

I've performed Ex-Factor for people wayyy too many times. But I guess you can't take my word for it because I am so uncomfortable singing for people and so not confident in myself that one time is one time too many. Getting me to even start will take LITERALLY a whole half hour. It terrifies me. And I never do as well as I could if other people are around. And when I say around I mean AROUND. I would sit in my #single dorm room, door closed and still wonder who was listening and what they were thinking #smh.

However, to my surprise, my first official performance (it was really just a karaoke night at my school) went a lot better than I thought it would. I'm not sure how I sounded and I was .25 seconds from forgetting the words at one point, but once I got past the first verse I felt really comfortable. Me? Comfortable? After I spent the whole 1 1/2 hours or so dreading, sweating, and internally crying! But can you believe it, I was getting into the song! For a while, I didn't see all the people in the room. It was just me and Jas backing me up on stage. Even if I sounded not so good, I #owned that stage. Even if for a short time. And that was a HUGE step for #laiwrench, let me tell ya. And the singing didn't end there #thanks@jrousethemouse-___-. And it's not going to end for at least another year since she'll be around and heavily involved in our Ignite Christian Ministry for at least that long. There's no escape!

But I do realize that this should not be that terrifying for me, and I've got a lot of processing to do about why it is and also about why I am continuing to run from it. This fear isn't going to go away all on its own. I've got to #manup and face it. But that's another blog for some time far away from now because I'm not trying to go there any time soon :) lol. But I would like to share something that I wrote back at the beginning of the summer.

It's my gospel version of Ex-Factor (same tune, different words), and I call it Self-Factor. Enjoy :)

It could all be so simple

But the world makes it so hard

Serving You is such a battle

And I have lost my armor

I know this is a test of faith

I fail because I run away

Fail because I am afraid

Then pretend that I’m all saved

Tell me who I’ve got to be

To live for You and deny me

I want to give You all of me

I want to do Your will

No matter how I think I’ve grown

I’ve still got so much more to go

This ain’t workin

This ain’t workin

And when I try to walk away

Weaken my knees so that I’ll pray:

Lord God, keep me

I need Your mercy

Without Your eyes, I can’t see

I can’t believe that You’d want me

As thankless as I’ve been to You

But still You wait so patiently

See I know what I’ve got to do

You gave Your life

So I’ve got to, too

Cause no one’s loved me more than You

And no one ever will

No matter how I think I’ve grown

I’ve still got so much more to go

This ain’t workin

This ain’t workin

And when I try to walk away

Weaken my knees so that I’ll pray:

Lord God use me

Put Your grace on me

Care for me, care for me

I know You care for me

There for me, there for me

You’re always there Sent

Christ for me, Christ for me

And then he died for me

Gives to me, gives to me

I Thank God He still lives for me

Bout to Be Out!

...In abouuuut 12 hours! I'm getting more and more excited as the time gets closer...but still not OD EXCITED. I'm one of those people who saves all those emotions for when the time actually comes. I dunno...no need to get too hype too early - it makes the time come THAT much slower.

I'm actually sitting under the hair dryer now. Three things I MUST do before I go ANYWHERE (and by "anywhere" I mean somewhere that requires me to pack before departure): 1) Wash my hair #check! 2) Shave #check! and 3) Repaint my toes :) - The last time I painted my fingernails was when I graduated from high school 2 years ago - unless you want to count clear polish, which I did for a formal dance. I really just love the simple elegance that my hands exude haha. Oh and I have to make sure my space is tidy...but it's never really messy, so I don't count that.

I've been wearing my crush orange polish on my toes  for a minute now. Maybe it's time for a change? I'm not one to change my nail color often - but I am sure that they stay painted. Even in the winter time. Hmm, well since our #team shirts are orange, I'm going to stick with orange for this trip. It'll be cute to match my shirt the first day! But #dontgetittwisted, I'm not a prissy princess. I'll go to work in the heat and sweat in the oldest clothes I own with a smile on my face.

Oh, yes, where am I going? ENSENADA, MEXICO!

Oh, yes, where am I going? ENSENADA, MEXICO!

On a mission trip with my church (Dad's coming, too). I'll be there for one week - serving God by serving others. I really have a passion for giving and serving. This will be my first of hopefully many missions to come, and I have no doubt that I will have an amazing experience there.

This is also super exciting because I haven't been out of the country since I got here in 19...96, 97? I love my country, but it's about time that I stepped on some non-American soil again.

Thankfully, the bag I'm checking is already packed and at the church. I'm glad they have us bring those in a couple days early...'cause I know me. I'm not new to this flying game by any means; I'll start packing 30 minutes before it's time to roll out if you let me #itneverfails. I do still have to pack my carry-on though and make a quick trip to Walmart, but no biggie.

I'm ready to be used and made brand new. <- It makes sense; trust me.

Please be praying for us as we embark on #Godsmission!

"To the last, to the lost, to the least of these...let us be Jesus today." 
Related Scripture: Isaiah 58: 6-10

"I'M SORRY...

...my son is autistic. Do you know what that is?


Well, you see, he's on a spectrum...the symptoms vary...no one person with autism is the same. And I guess the easiest way I can explain it to you is to say that my son is 4-years-old, but it's like he's 3 months."


"Gone 'head, Mom ! You betta #educateem" was the first thought to cross my mind. Because if I were in your position, I'm not sure I would have had the guts to #speakup.
I couldn't see the woman or the little boy sitting behind me, but I couldn't help but listen to what she had to say. To hear how she was about to explain autism spectrum disorder (ASD) to the people around her in a way that they could understand. She really had a way with words.

"He doesn't talk, but he'll constantly make these sounds you hear him making. He is very active; it's hard for him to sit still. He's not potty-trained either. But my other son is. He's five. And he's autistic, too. He can talk, read, and write. He does very well in school."


Oh, you got two of 'em? Ha, I feel you. Her story was getting too real for me, and by this point, I am positive that God has just set me up.

I gotta look at this woman now. Even though "looking" is probably what got this conversation started in the first place. But I could feel God speaking to me in this moment. Naw, I wasn't trying to hear what He had to say, but I was very aware of what He wanted me to do. There was this sense of urgency rising up inside of me, and it wouldn't back down for anything. Fortunately, when I turned around, her back was to me. But I could see her son, jumping up and down in the empty seats. They had to be the only two white people in here.

A few minutes later, a black woman came  in and took her son home with her. Shortly after that, the mom got up and walked away. This mom, she looked like she must have been in her thirties. She walked with a cane, her face was aged from smoking.
Welp, I missed my chance, so I guess all I can do now is #pray for this mom and her boys.

But, of course, she came back. God's got a way of playing games.

She took her seat. And finally, my brother has been called to the back. This better not take long; it is WELL past time to go. So I'm sitting and I'm tweeting about all that I'm thinking as I'm sitting and waiting. And then a friend tweets me:  "@LaiWrench Let God use ya !" Baha ! Real funny. But fine. Fine. I'm getting up. I have no idea what I'm about to say, but I'm bout to say something.

Hi...my name's Alaina. I heard you talking about your boys earlier, and I just wanted to tell you that both of my brothers are autistic, too. I wasn't sure how to approach you, but I felt God telling me I oughtta talk to you.


Her face softened up and her lips began to quiver.  And she just started talking. And boy, did she have a lot to say. She told me about her boys, about her fears. She was here to get tested for AIDS because she was raped just five days ago. She was scared out of her mind because if something were to happen to her, who would watch over her sons?

"I don't trust them with just anybody. People don't understand, and they get impatient and they hit them or make fun of them. And my younger one, he can't speak. I'm afraid that he was molested at school, but I'll never know because he can't tell me. Every time he tries to communicate with me, he just gets so frustrated because he can't get his words out. I am trying to be a good mom. Give them everything they need, but I'm young - I'm only 25, and I don't have anybody helping me except that lady you saw take my son away. But she's got kids with kids and she's trying to get them through school. I don't want to burden her. But it would be nice to have somebody to talk to. About what I can expect, about what I can do. Since your brothers are older than my sons and you've lived with this all your life, maybe you can help me. I just need to talk to someone who understands. And if you don't mind, maybe you could watch my boys? I don't know many people out here. I'm from Louisiana. We're Hurricane Katrina victims."

It's crazy I was gonna walk up out of here without saying one word to you. How selfish am I.
She started to give me all the perks of her home and the neighborhood in which she lived...like I needed to be convinced to watch her sons.

"$10 an hour. I live in a nice house. We have very friendly dogs...but if you don't like dogs, I can put them outside. We have a nice TV that you can watch and I have food for you to eat. If you don't drive, I can pick you up. And my boys love black people. I'm the only white caregiver they have."

#Pause. I don't need an incentive to help you out. And it hurts me that maybe you're just not used to people serving out of their love for God. There's nothing you can say that would make me want to help you any more or any less.

"I wanted a little girl. The doctor told me that autism is genetic, and all my children would have it - unless I had a girl. But I couldn't take that chance. I got my tubes tied when I was 21. Are you the only girl?"


I am the only girl, but whoever told you that ALL your sons would be autistic LIED to you. 


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"You know, I went to church last Sunday. I really heard God speaking to me. And I feel like this is no accident, you being here. You are such a blessing, and I thank God that you came and talked to me. And I think it's great what you're doing in school. People like me need more people like you. People to give them hope."


May 4, 2011.

God Forbid a Black Girl Rock Her Fro

Who said long hair was prettier?

#notmymama

When I told her I had apprehensions about chopping my hair off, Woman started feeling some type of way: "I don't know WHO told you that long hair is prettier. I cut ALL my hair off when you were younger, so I know you ain't get that from me.....akljvleangoluagil...."  All right Ma, #mybad #iwasjustsayin.

Me? No, no. Surely, short hair cannot "work" on me.

My mother is a beautiful woman - long hair or none at all. But just because the short hair look worked for her doesn't mean that it'll work for me. Me? Girl with the big forehead? Me? Girl who likes to roll out in sweats more than "just every once in a while"? Me? Girl who already doesn't have the best self-esteem as it is... Me? No, no. Surely, short hair cannot "work" on me.

While I never was a fan of my permed-straight hair, I still felt like getting my touch-up was a must. What else was I supposed to do? Walk around with nappy roots? What kinda man Imma get with that?
Let us not forget...I live in America -- where looks are everything. What I look like walking around with a teeny weeny afro?

What would people think? And not just white people. As a matter of fact, I was more concerned with what the black people would think.
Alaina, your hair is so long and pretty; why would you cut it off? 
Alaina your kinky twists are so cute; you should put them back in and give your hair time to grow out. Alaina..........Alaina..............Alaina.................... 


Alaina... Really? #backtorealityplease

I'm always experimenting with my hair. It's fun. And if I don't like it...Well...I do something else. And my big chop should be no different. If I don't like it, it'll grow back. If I really just can't take it, I can always go buy me some weave #nobigdeal. And if you don't like it, TOUGH. This ain't about you.

It's about me. And when I sat down in that chair at the hair salon on November 27, 2010, I promised myself that -- whether I liked it or not -- I would wear my hair. What's wrong with it anyway? Is this not the hair God gave me? Why should I be ashamed of my hair? White girls can wear their hair straight or curly, short or long and not be given a second look, but if a black girl does the same thing, she's something to see. I'm tired of looking like everybody else looking like everybody else because it'll get me that attention I'm looking for, that man I need, that job I want. It'll make me pretty.

Shoooot, I am pretty. Three and a half months later, I can see that better than I could before. As the hairdresser snipped away at my relaxed hair, I didn't shed a single tear.

But I'm #notgonlie, I did get a little teary eyed when "Alaina, why would you EVER put a perm in your hair?" crossed my mind.


Well you see, I was young. I didn't know any better. All I knew was that all the other black girls were doing it. And if I could go back, I'd do it again. Because, had I not seen Alaina Then compared to Alaina Now, I would never have known that #iamnotmyhair. And I'm tiptoeing around the question because there really is no good reason as to why I would chemically straighten my hair.

It's damaging -- and not just to our hair (but that's another blog). The only positive I can think of for getting a relaxer is that it's low maintenance...Yeah, being natural is a job but "no one ever drowned in his own sweat." And we wonder #whyourhairdontgrow #smh. Let's not get so comfortable with just sitting.

After my big chop, the same folks telling me not to cut my hair were telling me how much they liked it...mmhm. Alaina, why would you EVER put a perm in your hair? If I had good hair like yours, I never would have done it. #yousureaboutthat?


We are an excuse-making people...It's too nappy. It's hard to manage. It's not pretty.

Let us not forget...I live in America -- where freedom and diversity are valued
But God forbid a black girl rock her fro.

Things I Would Tweet if I Had a Twitter...

A few of my friends have been adamantly insisting that I get a Twitter despite the "Umm...no" that I consistently respond with every time the topic is brought up. They say it would be better if we could all tweet each other rather than just the three of them tweeting and then filling me in later about "what was so funny."

"Lai, you should really get a Twitter; we've already got you on there anyway: #LaiWrench."

Hmm...nahhh. Y'all got my number; text a sista! Or catch me on facebook - whichever you prefer.

Earlier this week, though, I actually started to give the idea some thought...

Of course, J'liv pounced on this opportunity to make me her next Twitter convert...#thoughtyouhadmehuh.
She literally gave me a TWitter TWutorial (<== #not cute), and now I know everything I need to know...

TO BLOG!

As you've probably guessed by the URL, this blog will be about what I would have tweeted had I conformed because, let's be real here...
I'm tweetable #LaiWrench.

"Lai, you should REALLY consider getting a Twitter."

I know, I know, 'cause I'm funny, right? #butyoucan'ttellmenothin'.

FOLLOW MEEEEEEE!! :D #thingsiwouldtweetifihadatwitter