I  was recently faced with what I thought was my last day, when I totaled my car on the 5 freeway on Halloween. It was a beautiful sunny day, 1:45pm, I had just cashed a check, and was looking forward to hanging out with some music buddies who had just come in town for my video shoot, among other things. The music was blaring, windows down…I was doing me. Suddenly, I heard a loud pop, lost control of my car and started to spin out of control in the middle of the freeway. As I was spinning, all I could see were the other cars on the freeway coming towards me. In that moment, everything seemed to go in slow motion. I was thinking about all the things people tell you not do to in situations like that, where to steer, hoping that no one else would be hurt besides me and how I should veer to the left in order to at least hit the center divider. Then,  I had thoughts that people who have faced death talk about. I saw flashes of what I had done in my life, people I loved, things that still were not accomplished. I thought to myself, “This can’t be it. There are so many things that I haven’t done with my life”. Then my wiser self said, “Well, maybe this is all your are supposed to do”. Then, I accepted the fact that this day may be my last, I closed my eyes, inhaled and waited for life as I knew it to end.

As my body was bounced between the center console and the driver side door, all I could hear is a loud slam and what sounded like scrapping that seemed to last forever. I opened one eye, to find my beloved Ford Mustang nudge up against the center divide facing the opposite way of traffic. I was alive.

I could hear a woman’s voice on my left side saying, “Are you okay?”. It was a woman in the next lane who had stopped to block me from being hit. Then a man’s voice, “Are you okay?, a trucker driving in the slow lane. I was alive. I burst open like a dam under great pressure and just started crying- yelling and crying. It was a combination of things which made me so emotional. It was the fright that I tried to mask in order to stay in control, it was the life that I thought was done, the life that often times seems so hard, the life that I was given another chance to continue. It all just came pouring out of me. And it kept coming until the CHP and fire department came and ask me, “Little lady, did you know that your car is facing the wrong way?”

I believe that all things happen for some reason, whether we like it or not. There is always a lesson and/or blessing for every smile, grievance and tear shed in our life, if we choose to look deeper.

Shortly thereafter, there were a string of untimely deaths that I got wind of. From hip-hop legend Heavy D, a college acquaintance, an old high school friend. All under the age of 45 years old. All people who lived  and faced death before their time. It really made me think. I wonder how they felt? Were they at peace? Were their spirits satisfied with what they had accomplished in life? From what I knew about each person, they were loved, and gave love, and I personally, I will only have positive thoughts of them in my own memories.

Isn’t that all that we can ask for?

Before this experience, I was already a “no regrets” type of girl. I’ve always said that I never want to be the woman who looks back on her life and wonders how different it could have been if I just….fill in the blank. I never wanted to be the one who gave up on love from fear of falling, or being hurt. I never wanted to allow the things that others have done to me to become who I am,  carrying negative energy around. Therefore, bringing myself down when the people who have wronged me move on with their lives. Now, these beliefs are that much more concrete for me and each day I work on perfecting them.

There are many things in our life that we can control. The ability to grow, love, laugh, sing and dance, to be silly and unafraid to face the difficult things in life when they arise. We can control the environment of our life through letting go of those who do not positively contribute to it, and opening our hearts to those that do. We can tell those we love, how much we do and that they are appreciated for all the little things they bring to our lives. We can focus more on personal experiences and connections and less on social media and money. And accept that its okay to sometimes jump in and let love in, without fear of rejection, no matter the outcome.

So, live each day with purpose. Love each day with passion. The rest is up to Him.

"Good Luv" feat. Rapper Big Pooh available Aug. 30th. PRE-ORDER TODAY!!!

I will be dropping my first single ” on Hipnott Records Good Luv” feat. Rapper Big Pooh on Tuesday, August 30th on iTunes!!!! Pre-order yours today for $1.99 and get the B-side “I Know I Shouldn’t” too!!!!

Please tag, share and/or comment on the song! It only takes a few minutes to help the buzz.

Thank you for you continued support and tweet me to let me know what you think! @thedivinedivah

It’s a pandemic really. It’s like a lot of men out here (not all but a lot) have replaced their balls with a fleshy makeshift vagina. I often find myself, after a text or call, looking at the phone with a slightly puzzled and disgusted face saying out loud, “Does he think that he is the woman?”. Everywhere I go, there is another woman who is tired of this bullshit. It has been the theme of the month, but I noticed that it was really bad when I heard men start to talk of this disease. Let’s just call it Bitchalicus (bitch-a like-us). I mean, let’s face it, there is a MAN code. They think they are better than us and we are better than them, and because of this, men tend to have other men’s backs most of the time. Recently, I have heard a few men talk about how wack other men are in this city and how Bitchalicus is running rampant. This is when I considered freezing my eggs for when I move to the mid-west or east coast, in hopes of finding a non-carrier of Bitchalicus. After a second thought, I reneged.

I hear this observation usually from men that are from Chicago, New Orleans, New York..usually recent imports. I point out the “recent” part because a lot of the men who have Bitchalicus came here fully in tact from other places. They got off the plane or out of the cars that got them here with two fully functioning balls, but after years of living in LA, they have shriveled up into … I’m not sure exactly.

For those of you who are confused about what I mean when I talk about bitch tendencies or Bitchalicus in men, let me break it down for you:

1. At a bar/club/whatever, you spend more energy staring at me, scoping me out, but instead of making the first move, you either stand right in front of me or across from me at all times, waiting for me to approach you = Bitch tendencies. This is what women do and is not to be confused with men who are simply shy/awkward/nervous/etc.

2. You get all butthurt when you are called out for your lack of action e.g.; not following through on dates, not calling and then popping up, just saying shit and NEVER doing it= Bitch tendencies. Men do the opposite and take pride in that. I can not treat you like a child and give you passes for everything and still respect you as a man.

3. You refuse to make an effort to actually court/date a woman, yet get sensitive when you found out that she in fact “dating” men, just not you = Bitch tendencies. Don’t cry about it, step your game up. Men go out everyday and work towards what they want, mainly money. Women are no different from money.

4. If you always,  always have excuses this= Bitch tendencies. It goes back to number 2 and it’s just annoying. Shut up. Man up. Admit you were slipping or wrong because excuses get old real quick and they are NOT sexy.

5. This one was actually brought to my attention by a man. You expect the most bangin’ model-like chick ever, to the point to where you think you are higher than a woman in value. You over analyze every physical quality, without acknowledging her inner beauty, when you don’t even have the qualities physically or the characteristics that you think you are worthy of = Bitch tendencies. I’m sorry, but there is only one Halle Berry in the world and I doubt she wants your ass, so, if you don’t see Idris Elba, Brian White or Tatum Channing when you looking in the mirror, don’t expect Halle.

6. You expect me to initiate everything; phone calls, convo, dates, sex…= Bitch tendencies. When you can’t take charge and lead me as a man, then I become the man and that defeats the purpose of being with you. It’s not my job to always be the assertive one. You are created to do so. Don’t get me wrong, women do set the pace of the relationship and a man should respect that but a man should be a leader for the most part.

7. You spend more time hating on my hustle than getting your own = Bitch tendencies.

8. Lastly, you always want something. Got your hand out for hand outs. You want me to go all out for your birthday but I couldn’t even get a Facebook shout out?!  Or, you somehow think that because me and your mother have a vagina that I am now your mama, and therefore should cook for you and let you come over and be available when you are, when you ain’t even my man or my child! = Bitch tendencies.

Jay-Z, On To The Next One, Blueprint 3- "No I'm not a Jonas Brother, Ni*** I'm a grown up. No I'm not a virgin, I use my cojones."

Its sad, but this is what is happening. I even jokingly said that I am going to go to LAX with a sign that says “New Imports ONLY! Mid-West and East Coast Preferred. No Damaged Goods” because it’s when feet touch the “shiny” streets of LA when things start to change a bit. I have witnessed it, especially when money and success come into play.

Ladies, this needs to stop. We need to stop excepting this behavior. My co-host HP said simply, as have a few men I have talked to about this pandemic, that if a man makes a big deal about your requirements for him being a man, drop him! He’s not the man for you. You will find your man and he will be that man without struggle.

So ladies, just because a man has a “man card” does not mean he has a valid one. Check his references and see if he even has an open line of credit before you let him swipe that card, if you know what I’m saying.

I can not do this alone…it takes a village you know.

Until then, we need to alert Barack that we are at a Neon Yellow Orange Alert and an antidote is needed immediately. Who’s with me?

One of my favorite tees!

The “Awe” Spark…it’s that magical tingling sensation you get when you encounter someone of  genuine interest. That same sensation that grows with intensity when you kiss your interest for the first time. It makes you feel uneasy, almost like you are back in middle school, when everything made you tingle and feel awkward. I like to call it the “Awe Spark” because it is a cute little play on words for the molecular cosmic mass that the Autobots and Decepticons fight for in the Transformers films.

Where the hell is that damn thing?!

If you know me personally, you should know that Optimus Prime is my cartoon “baby daddy”. He has everything I look for in a man, but in alien form. He leads the Autobots fearlessly, is always there when you need him,  he is always calm and in control yet, he is nobody’s bitch, he stands up for what he believes and believes in loyalty, his voice demands attention and respect, he walks with purpose and confidence and most importantly, he will sacrifice himself to protect the All Spark on Earth. What more can a girl ask for?!

Recently, I realized that the men that give me a bit of an “Awe” Spark tend to be Optimus Prime like in human form. And since finding an Autobot in LA is more than a feat in itself, you can only imagine how rare it is meet actual men like that! It almost never happens. So, when it does, I feel I must pursue it. Sure, I meet hotties in the entertainment industry, good-looking business professionals and few sexy yet educated semi-thugs but most of the time, when I am out socially, other than their great resumes, nothing else speaks to me. Now I know, well at least I have been told, that most women in LA don’t really care about that spark as long as they can swipe your black card at “Bloomie’s” but this is not me. I was not born this way and more than that, I am an artist; I live, breathe and survive off of my ability to feel. So ignoring that, is damn near impossible for me. And past spark-less relationships have taught me that unless you have it (the spark), you will probably lose it (the relationship).

So where does this come from?! What is it, that invisible force, that ignites between two people? That overwhelming curiosity that leads you to take a chance? That thing that seeps into your brain and creates looped thoughts of the other person, like a broken record? Where can I get some of that?! If I could bottle that shit, I could outsell crack and cocaine out here in these streets and yes, I would get high off my own supply.

In recent discussion, one of my male friends told me that, the older we get, the spark fades, just disappears into Neverneverland but I can’t digest that theory. I, on the other hand, believe that it just becomes harder to find. We confuse the spark with lust, infatuation or fail to take the time to nurture it into maturity. Often, what could have been, succumbs to physical temptations and our own mis-interpretations of what we are feeling. My girls and I talk about this often, when one or all of us is single and dating. How taking the time to really sort out what you want and how you want it could be detrimental in the chances of not giving your new boo an early pink slip.

So, note to fellas: If she’s not sleeping with you, its not always a bad thing.

Those women have had their flings and know that getting sex from a man, is less difficult than finding a part-time job in this economy- no offense. They want more and are over the parties, the empty compliments and routine conversation that leads to intimacy. They simply want to know innately that you are serious about them and vice versa…waiting to exhale like the rest of us.

I have been on the hunt for my “awe” spark since my last break up. In retrospect, it was one of the things that I felt I was lacking long-term and is now a deal breaker for me. Now, don’t me get wrong, I’m not really hunting. I’m more so consciously aware of looking for it, as blindly jumping into something right now, is not my style. But, when he arrives, I will take off my shoes and dive in into the deep, without holding my breath.

Until that day, I am single and mingling, learning and experiencing, meeting and greeting and loving it. Undoubtedly, I am optimistically aware of discovering my Optimus Prime, in hopes that he too, will value the “awe” spark enough to protect it, even with his life.

My "Baby Daddy', Optimus Prime. More than meets the eye.

My mic sounds nice.

It’s that season again! Wedding season. This is the time of year when I forego my weekends in exchange for weekend payoffs. I started singing in cover bands back in 2007, when I was fresh out of college and newly unemployed, after getting and losing the job “of my dreams” right after graduating from UCLA. It’s funny because, I went to school to pursue skills in music and when I came out I ended up right in the opposite place, working in an office.  I never intended for this to happen but when you take LA and add that to living alone without family within close proximity, that’s what happens. Bills gotta get paid, or you’ll be singing out on the streets, for real. So, when I lost that job , and went through a month of slight depression, getting into Rembrandt was just what I needed to remind me of why the hell I came out to LaLa Land in the first place. I was chosen out of 38 other singers, and did my best to nail the audition, even while battling a really bad cold. What landed me the gig was learning and executing “Got To Be Real’ by Cheryl Lynn, in its original key. Soon after, I was a real “wedding singer” and while at times, I, like most artists, looked down at it or even laugh a bit, am very grateful to be able to get paid to party with and sing for happy, drunk , celebratory crowds, and what’s even better! Not only that, I get to hang out with some pretty unique, talented and creatively cynical individuals, like myself, who have become an extended family and network for my outside of Rembrandt life. Of course this is not where I see my career ending, as I came here with intentions of having people love and buy MY music, my own writings, and hopefully buying copies of me singing them, but its a great start and training field. After almost 4 years, I have really been able to perfect my ear, minimize my learning time and pluck out harmonies quickly, which has helped me greatly in sessions, writing and impromptu work. Not to mention, my confidence is almost back to where it was pre UCLA days. For this, I am very grateful. Who else can say that in this city, where musicians are often under appreciated and devalued, that they get paid almost weekly to do what they love? Trust me, not many.

And so, this year’s wedding season was kicked off with a 140 mile drive, one way, which included a 19 mile drive into the Santa Barbara mountains. We performed outdoors in the middle of nowhere, where rattle snakes and vast open air ruled. It had to be one of the coldest gigs yet, and so Maker’s Mark was my drink of choice. Lord only knows how the horn section played, let alone the drummer and keys, with the lack of outdoor heaters by the stage (of course). Needless to say, it was a bad start to another good season. And if it started like this, there’s nowhere to go but up. Here’s some pics for your viewing pleasure.

Ready, set, GO!

Me with band mate, Vanessa Bryan

Then, it hit me. Most men, not all, but most, that I meet today are always asking for shit. Not that that’s necessarily a bad thing but they tend to walk into the game running off at the mouth about what they need from me. And like I said it’s not just about age. Sure this guy was in his mid twenties but I know men in their 30s that are always asking me to do things for them, all the while avoid what I ask for. For instance, a past love recently resurfaced, someone who I have always loved, yet after 6 years of knowing me, and 3 years of separation he still keeps asking me to understand. Understand that he needs time, understand that he can’t make time, understand that he loves me but doesn’t make an effort to really get to know the new, older, improved me, even as a friend. He’s in his 30s. Or my ex, 29,who was always asking me to understand his anger, understand that he doesn’t really mean half of what he says. Asking me to understand that he has been hurt by women his entire life.

Or more recently, the overly flirtatious rapper who frequently told me how he felt about me in words and song and asked me to continue to be his light and hope that there is an ideal woman out there for him, after I told him his girlfriend wouldn’t appreciate our relationship, after discovering her on Facebook. I believe his request all started with the words, “I need you to help me”. And when I retorted that not only out of respect for his chick but also myself, that he should stop coming on to me, he replied “…that’s just me”, without even acknowledging what I asked for.

I feel like men are always asking for shit most, not all- but get all butt hurt, yes I said butt hurt, when you require something in return. Like accountability, consistency, truthfulness and my favorite, effort. Why is this? I thought of my old me, the younger me, the me who I still have to fight at times. I really try to “get” everyone, try to understand and be patient, not judge. To each his own is my way of living. I have always been understanding.

The older me, feels differently. The older me feels that every time I “understand” what they want me to do for them, I am overlooking what I need from them. And every time I have understood, in the end, I have been left under-appreciated. You see, women who have reached this point, weren’t born this way. It has nothing to do with being sassy, a diva or Black for that matter. We were slowly carved like stone under dripping water. We were once smooth, and over time and years of understanding have been pressed until our surface gives way and edges form. And although the rock may not be as easy to hold, it still has purpose. It is still strong, if not stronger.

So frankly, I’m tired of understanding. I actually refuse to. I think more women should. Refuse to. I know what it is that stops us. It’s that haunting feeling that we just may lose something or someone who may be reminiscent of love. We hold our tongues out of fear, fear of reaching our 30s with no “proof” of success: the man, the kids, the house. And it starts so young for us, and sadly,  not all of us ever wake up. The women that do hold on to what they feel they deserve are always

Please sir, can I have some more?

ridiculed or labeled, gold digger, mean, conceited, bitch. But those are the ones in my life who hold out until a man rides in on a horse, not a donkey.

The older I get, the more I see, the more frequently I see it. The more it just isn’t worth it. My worth isn’t worth it, neither is yours. How many times have you heard the words, “I love you but….”, “I’m sorry I can’t”, “I need you to understand…” “You know, I’ve just been busy” or the classic “I didn’t mean it”? Have those words really kept you from crying at night? I can bet my life they have not. Most words are just like this blog that you are currently reading, momentary, temporary and can disappear in an instant with a slight diversion of attention. The actions are what matter…linger in your brain, connect to your heart and all other parts. The actions. So if you want me to move in your favor, you must move in mine. This goes both ways.

I’m over understanding…so much so that I may get a t-shirt that says so, and on the back it will say, “I just don’t give a f*ck about what you want” or “What about you?!”

Just something to ponder, the next time you consider placing someone else’s needs over your own.

By the way, after I finished laughing at the Denny’s dude, I asked him “What is this a soup kitchen? I haven’t seen you in weeks and you’re asking me to cook for you?”, he simply responded with, “Naw, its all gud. Never mind”.

Dasha. Brandon Brown on bass. Photos by SheMarie

One of my favorite performance venues/nights!