Saturday, December 30, 2006

Communication with the virtual world has been choice in these last weeks of this Gregorian year. Once this unborn manifests my physique will be as slim & trim as my social output, at least until Something To Cope drops. Until then, get acquainted with another dimension of Oriana lee through Something To Cop:Abridged From the Book Something To Cope (Digital Only). By any artistic means necessary!


Saturday, December 16, 2006


Many days have passed since stars filled my backyard ceiling. It takes being all the way out in no man's land to enjoy nature anymore. Even the little dipper in sight. Amazing! Transformation will take place with or without you. Dig?


"The worse thing you can call a person is crazy. It's dismissive"
-Dave Chapelle

If my bank account allowed me the freedom to up & run away to Afraka right now, God only knows how fast my long legs would get me to the first available airline carrier. The last time that "a friend" called me crazy, eye hauled off and punched them square in the face. That was in two thousand and one in the midst of a revealing therapy stint that left me confronting the supressed molestations of my childhood. It would be years before eye could frankly admit that a raging nut is exactly what was brewing in my brain, though the guilty party had since changed their story to appear as though they had only said eye was acting crazy. Semantics; same difference. Lying can ease one's inner guilt.

For that same person to act out and call me crazy (no acting in there for certain) today bounces off my back and dead into the water because what does not fit simply cannot stick. It actually makes me chuckle at times because eye feel so fortunate to be so sane to even know the difference at this stage in my life. Empty words cannot hurt me, neither can they fill me anymore. Truth however, does hurt those who are unwilling to face it. If telling the truth makes me a lunatic, then nominate me queen, because that's what self-analyzation has led me to honor most within myself.

Love makes people do strange things. The lack of love leads people to show their true lack of compassion in strangely forced ways. Eye love my self enough to not want to continue to subject myself to the abuse that comes from the lack thereof. Eye love my unborn enough to want a healthy arrival in a safe and loving environment. Somehow, someway, without money or midwife, eye am certain that the creator has love for us. In this mindstate, eye await the blessings in store.


Monday, December 4, 2006


Being married in the entertainment business is more of a challenge than the rigors of this industry itself. It's no wonder unions don't last more than a hot second with all the pressures. Plus, it's a complete fact that real artists are absolutely out of their minds, which makes it tough if you're a spouse with any square tendencies at all. The fact that they don't even know it makes the likelihood of a smooth ride nearly impossible.

Prior to this pregnancy, just how a woman could consider aborting her precious unborn baby always brought me to a point of judgement.

"How could she think like that?" How could she go through with it?"

Only during this, my fifth pregnancy, did that become an option that has crossed my mind on more than one occassion. When it became clear back in the Spring that eye was indeed expecting again, instantly eye thought of the many sister-girls in my life who have chosen this path. They always complain afterwards of an emptiness & guilt that never goes away. Even still, knowing just how unlikely that my financial circumstances would change during the course of this gestational period, it seemed like a logical step - for everyone's sake. Of course, now in the eighth month of pregnancy, we all know what the final outcome of those original thoughts, the struggle with my choice still lingers.

Having survived a series of infidelities (common in the business; common in a marriage) over the last years, in addition to a temper of my own that has gotten so out of control at times that my man could have easily had me hemmed up on spousal abuse charges, it seems almost wrong to bring another child into this roller-coaster relationship; this insane world. But as we all know, no matter how hard we try, we don't always control these things. It's so much bigger than our daily worries.

As my girlfriend affirmed a while back, "We all lead Jerry Springer lives." So damn true!

Some of you will gasp at my candor; others will judge & criticize. Hopefully all will be able to see the beauty in my brutal honesty to some degree as we could all stand a little more truth & reality in our day to day. My people won't even flinch, as they will tell you that this is just the type of REAL gal that eye am. No matter how you know me - as an artist, business-woman, friend or foe, my desire is that you too come to have a glimpse into this fantasy life called the music business understanding that we are one people in the end.

Your tail stinks when you purge your colon the same as mine. We all put on our socks one foot at a time. Let's love & support each other instead of tearing one another apart. Life is too short to do it any other way. Don't be skerred.

Much love to you & yours!


Sunday, December 3, 2006

pack rat

•a ratlike rodent that accumulates a mound of sticks and debris in the nest hole, native to North and Central America. Also called wood rat.
• a person who saves unnecessary objects or hoards things.

In moving from one residence to the next, it's imperative to recognize that purging is as important as packing. Just this season I have trashed a broken fan, a well-worn pack-n-play, several pairs of outdated shoes, too small clothing, bits of trinkets, pieces of toys & many other long held on to items. Many people hold on to things unnecessarily with no purpose in mind. That's a pack rat. To hold on to useful objects that are mendable or simply out of sorts is what us Black Americans call making due with what 'cha got. There's a big difference. Po' folk know the difference. Only the beholder can determine the value based on their particular needs & purposes.

It stings when someone regards your treasure as junk, not recognizing that we all have those collectables that only we deem important for a variety of reasons. As they [do not exist] say, "People are people" & "All around the world same song". Just days before Granny returned to the essence, she gave me an old change purse stuffed with 100 dollar bills & assumably junk jewelry. While the money has been long spent to the good of the family, the jewelry remains as my personal fortune. If it wasn't for Granny - an accused pack rat, eye wouldn't understand the contradistinction.