25 Random Things About Me

I was tagged to a note on Facebook, and apparently, once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. Here it is:

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1. My favorite movie has been, is, and will always be "The Muppets Take Manhattan." From age 3 to now, it still has the same effect on me.

2. I can make this weird sound with my voice that sounds like a cross between a monkey and a dolphin.

3. I don't like dreads. While they do look nice on some people, they're just not my thing.

4. Most people get annoyed when high school kids get on the train laughing loudly and making noise. I, on the other hand, get a wave of nostalgia, and I smile.

5. I like picking pimples...I know it's gross.

6. I performed in the Vagina Monologues in College. I read the monologue entitled, "The Little Coochie Snorcher That Could."

7. I can live on bread alone...seriously. I love bread: rolls, buns, sliced, bagels, whatever. No butter or jelly needed.

8. I don't get starstruck. I always tell myself, "They're just me in a few years."

9. I hate waiting for people; it should always be the other way around.

10. I still write in the diary I've had since 1998.

11. When I was 10, I wore a size 10 in women's shoes.

12. The reason I cut my hair off in high school (short like Eve when she first came out), was because the ponytail weave I wore to my ex-boyfriend's prom totally ravaged my hair. When I washed it, clumps came out in the sink. I had no choice, but once I did it, I loved it.

13. As a child, I swore I would grow up and marry a Kappa (ie. a member of Kappa Alpha Psi Fraternity, Inc.) I don't discriminate now. Calling all Greeks and non-Greeks. :)

14. I have a thing for Vampires: movies, books, TV Shows. (I loved Buffy and Angel.)

15. My nickname was the "Human Radio" in high school. If it was on Hot 97 or WBLS 98.7 KISS FM (back when it was a hip hop station), I knew all the words.

16. I'm a HUGE No Doubt fan, but can't stand the solo-Gwen Stefani. How do you go from the depth of "Simple Kind of Life" to "Hollaback Girl"?

17. I love me some Southern men.

18. One of my most powerful moments: being let go and declining a transfer at Bear Sterns so I could fully pursue a career in poetry/music.

19. I was recruited by the CRIPS in high school.

20. My first pair of stilettos was my junior year in college, and I learned to put on make-up right before I graduated.

21. I hate what I write most of the time. My work always has to grow on me.

22. I know all the words and songs in the movie Wayne's World.

23. In my younger years, I don't remember ever thinking I was ugly; I just didn't understand why people didn't see what I saw in the mirror.

24. If it wasn't for the mother who raised me, I would have died of pneumonia as a child.

25. My first (and only) pet was a clam I brought home from the beach. I didn't tell my mom. Because I didn't know what to feed it, it died. My mom scrubbed down the refrigerator, the rest of the kitchen, and the house trying to figure out what that retched smell was.

The Poem I wrote on Dr. Martin Luther King's Birthday/ Inauguration Eve...

CELEBRATION

As the world celebrates progress and change,

Somewhere far away,

A Black girl is being called outside her name.

Somewhere closer,

A Black boy learns that 'nigga' is his other name

And in your backyard,

A Black man is executed on the platform of a train.

As the world studies Gaza and wars far and abroad,

They neglect the terror in our own country.

Nothing can match the pain I feel

When I see a minority wearing the uniform of

The United States Army.

Their options were to die here in the States

Or die overseas.

Wear helmets to protect those wearing hoods.

I know they mean to do good,

But while the US stresses over homeland security,

The security on our homeland

Terrorize the people they swore to protect.

Uppity Blacks can reject the idea that racism still exists if they wish,

They can seal their eyes with EOE if they please,

But notice that history always repeats itself,

And we are in a country waist-deep in deceit, hate, and lies.

A place where whistles and wallets,

Blue shields and lack of Blue-Cross Blue Shield

Cause the life span of the average man to decline.

Tears wipe away my smile.

As the world studies Obama's blackberry addiction,

I saw varied shades of brown tear down their town

In mourning.

I'm wondering if the world would hear their pain

If instead of Oakland,

It was Beverly Hills they were destroying.

As the world studies the coming of January 19th,

Martin,

Do we have your permission to steal our peace back?

Is it okay to let vengeance ring

And war cries sing

Over shells tinkling

Echoing through streets and public transportation systems?

Martin,

Should we celebrate your birthday this year

When bullets shower our neighborhoods like confetti.

Martin,

It's hard to partake of cake when forced to defecate

Splinters from nightsticks.

Dr. King,

How can freedom ring without justice for Sean Bell,

While they grant Oscar's executioner

A vacation from work.

Aggressive cops get sensitivity classes and a pardon.

Pardon us, Martin.

We've forgotten what it means to reject the norm

We've misplaced the words of wisdom for our girls and boys

Because VH1 and MTV don't teach reality.

Textbooks in the South have just been changed to mention slavery.

Martin,

You had it better than we do

Because at least racism in your time was blatant.

Today it gets brushed away

As just ignorance and coincidence,

Mistaken identities and itchy trigger-finger tendencies.

Shoot first because of fear.

If you’re scared to die,

You’re in the wrong field.

How can they serve and protect a community

If they don’t know the value of life?

Martin,

Thank you for showing us the path to peace

But I don’t see it happening anytime soon.

I can see you sobbing in your tomb

‘Cause we’ve buried our history

Like pirated doubloons

And lost the map to ourselves.

Dr. King,

We need another civil rights leader like you

Who wouldn’t turn an issue away

Because there wasn’t enough money to pay

Al or Jesse for the guest appearance they’d make.

As the world studies,

The first President of African decent

As the world studies a change to be proud of,

A symbol of growth,

We know that in your dreams you saw it first.

Dr King,

We celebrate your life,

The life you gave.

We should not simply give you praise

On this one cold January day.

In your honor,

We have to be the change we wish to see,

Not just celebrate you and what we've become.

We have to force strength and greatness into our community

'Cause you preached unity.

As we celebrate what you've done to change history.

Martin,

I wish to see the spirit of love, peace, growth, and positivity

Finally rest itself into the heart of this country.

As the world celebrates your birth,

We all know,

We still have a long way to go.

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For January's "Speak 2 Me" show at Philadelphia's Clef Club, I was asked to write a poem in celebration of Dr. Martin Luther King's birthday (Jan 19th). I started writing it on my way back from Atlanta, when I found out about the BART killing in Oakland (See previous blogs). In the airport, I anxiously watched CNN, hoping to get more details on the riot out there...I was greatly disappointed as I watched CNN's top story be about how Obama wants to keep his Blackberry when he becomes president. No mention of the 300+ shops that were damaged as a result of Oaklanders' anger at the fact that that the officer who murdered Oscar Grant was not being charged. No mention of the wrongful death of a young black man at the hand of a police officer yet again. We're all just so happy about Obama being in office and so used to celebrating Dr. King's birthday without seeing that both occasions call us to be more than just people living in America. Both of these show that we should have dreams and goals that can make a change in the world. We have to be the change, not just celebrate it. They call us to rise into action and take a stand for justice, freedom, and equality for all.

Stay Blessed!

Shanelle Gabriel

www.myspace.com/shanelleg

www.twitter.com/shanelleg

Check me out in the new Q-Tip Video for "Manwomanboogie"!

Ya know a sista can act, right? Well, check me out in the newest video from Q-Tip called "Manwomanboogie." Amanda Diva's on tha hook. Shout out to Rik Cordero (director extraordinare) who asked me to be a part of this video. He and Three21Media are behind the videos for Nas' "Be a N----", Jay-Z's "Blue Magic" trailer, Busta Rhymes' "Arab Money", Jadakiss' "Who Run This?", and a slew of other great projects.



I love what this track is saying... "Could man beat struggle if a woman is there? I would have to say yes. Could women make it without man being there? She would have to be blessed." Yes, man and woman are meant to be support and there for each other, so what God puts together, let no man put asunder. Much props. :)

My brother was killed in the BART Shooting...

I realize that a lot of people thought of "Simpson" when I say the name Bart. And when I mentioned Oakland, people wrote about MC Hammer and the Raiders. But today, my heart is broken as I read and watch videos about the young black man who was "executed" on the platform of the BART train in Oakland, California on New Years Eve.

Apparently, police were called due to a fight on the train, so they held it in the station. Several officers stepped in and started handcuffing individuals. All of the guys that were fighting were handcuffed except for one. Oscar Grant, 22, was forced to lay on the ground with one officer on his back and one by his neck. He fidgeted a bit but not in a way that would seem overly aggressive. An officer reached for what was thought to be handcuffs, but instead pulled out his gun and shot the man, fatally wounding him.

So how do we know all of this in such detail? God bless (and curse) technology because it was all captured on camera phone by a number of people in the station. Imagine witnessing the shooting of a young man, maybe not innocent but sentenced to death without trial. My brother, our brother, Oscar Grant is dead. Even as I write this tears come to my eyes. The officer resigns before he can be questioned by the police department. This happens a week before change is sworn into office and into this country. A week before the birth of the one of the greatest civil rights leaders in history. And to see a city so filled with unrest and hate that it has to destroy itself just to be heard.

As I watch CNN feature stories on Gaza and on Obama's addiction to his Blackberry without a word of this tragic story, my heart is truly broken. It seems as if police brutality and violence in inner cities has grown as popular as Obama/Biden pins. I hoped that an election that showed how powerful our unified voice can be would have discouraged such acts of coldness and heartlessness in America. Really? Has change really come to America?

The PT Diaries #4...Live from Atlanta's Greyhound Bus Station

Imagine, even on holidays and outside of NYC I have a reason to blog my observations on Public Transportation.

I'm in Atlanta. It's the Sunday after New Years, and I just realized my random trip to visit my homie in Savannah, GA was badly planned. As my sister turns the corner to take me to the Atlanta Greyhound station (I hate taking Amtrak and I refuse to drive), my mom points to a distant street corner where a large crowd is gathered, standing and sitting on the curb.

My mom says, "Oh, it's Sunday. Probably a soup kitchen or shelter." Alas, no...it was the Greyhound bus station. The crowd was filled with people rushing to head home for Monday work after a long holiday. Yes, I picked a bad time to want to be a Savannah tourist.

The Will Call line was longer and shorter staffed than the Ticketing line. I ask the lady in charge of the lines if she could help me since my bus would be leaving in 5 mins. She pointed to the line I was on and shrugged her shoulders. Loving the Southern hospitality. By the time I get to the front of the line, my bus has loaded and left. I get the time of the next bus and vow that this will NOT happen again.

I get back to the station an hour early. I'm proud of the fact that I'm on time and prepared. However, I was not prepared for the ticket pick-up line. It wasn't long. It was actually very speedy, and the lady was extremely pleasant. It was the person standing behind me that was extremely offensive.

HIS ODOR!!!!!

It was a mixture of sweat, field work, armpit moisture, toe jam, and good old-fashioned funk. It was as if he was saving his bath for next New Years Day. Maybe for Christmas, he got a bottle of "Georgian Must" the New Cologne by Dem Franchise Boyz. (Thanks Tim for contributing that one).

You all know I'm addicted to Twitter and Facebook status updates, so instantly, I whipped out the Blackberry and started typing. The comments I got suggested I spray my perfume around me. Why should I??? It is not my fault his people didn't know Bath & Body Works had a Christmas sale. It is not my fault that some people only bathe on garbage days (I guess his fell on Thursday, and you know they're off on holidays).

I believe that in public places, just as they have a "No Smoking" sign, there should be a "No Funking" sign. People should not be allowed to funk up the place and inflict their stomach-turning odors upon poor, innocent Victoria Secret Love Spell body wash-lathering, 'Fancy' Perfume by Jessica Simpson splashing, washcloth using persons like myself.

This blog goes out to the people that waited on line at a restaurant, smelled the scent of Degree & Secret-less armpits in the afternoon, only to walk out without an appetite. To those who got excited when they saw an empty train car just to find out that it was evacuated the stop before you due to the smell of the homeless dude in the corner.
To the people that try breathing through their mouths, who offer gum politely only to be refused by the person that REALLY needs it, and to the person that gives everyone a hug but makes sure to give that one person a pound.

I feel your pain...

Just pray he doesn't get on my bus with me.

Barking up the wrong tree...What's wrong with some women?

Picture this: I'm home on a blessed Friday evening in Atlanta, GA. I'm in my comfy socks, pajama pants and an over-sized T-shirt lovingly given to me by a school I previous performed at earlier last year. It's warm, and I'm on the phone with a friend of mine speaking about random things like families and triathlons. I see a number I don't recognize come up on the call waiting. I click over to hear a woman's voice.

In a very professional and sweet tone, I hear, "Hello, is this Shanelle Gabriel?" I say 'yes' thinking it's kind of late to be getting phone calls for bookings, but okay. I ask her her name, and she mumbles it and continues:

"Do you know ___(Insert some guy's name here)___?" The name doesn't ring a bell, and I tell her so. She names a group that I know of and performed with a few months ago. I'm not an instigator or gossiper so I won't say the gospel group's name. She says the name again and I vaguely connect it to one of the members who I briefly spoke with about working on a future project with. That was back in June. I hadn't spoken to him since then. I say, "Oh, yes, I now who you're talking about. What's up?"

"Did he tell you he was married?"

Rather random. Most artists don't come up to me after a show and say, "Hey I like your work. I'm married. So who's your producer? Those beats are dope." I tell her no and that there was no reason it would have came up. The conversation didn't go in that direction, so how would I know? More importantly, why would I care?

"Well, I just wanted to clear that up with you, so that everything was known."

She says this in a sweet voice and elaborates a little more on that being her husband. I tell her that I'm a singer, and him having my information had to do with business. Then I realize that she should have stopped once she saw that she had to go into detail for me to know who the heck her husband was. She interrupts my thoughts.

"Oh really? What type of music do you sing?"

I tell her gospel, inspirational, a lil bit of R&B. She sweetly says, "Oh so you're a Christian?" Nah, I'm an atheist that happens to love Richard Smallwood and The Clark Sisters. "Yes, I am," I reply.

"Well, then, may God bless you, your music, and all your endeavors in 2009. Have a wonderful weekend." I say, "You too," click the phone over, and laugh LOUDLY.

Now, this goes out to my sisters...Women have a habit of barking up the wrong tree. Fighting the woman their man has been talking to instead of fighting the person they ACTUALLY agreed to be monogamous with. If you think your man is being unfaithful or dishonest, YOU NEED TO TAKE THAT GARBAGE UP WITH HIM!!! Not with the girls he may have in his phone or who he works with. It is HIS JOB to let his female friends know that he is with you. If you have to do it for him, you both need counseling. Maybe you don't even need to be with him. Calling another woman's phone to mark your territory comes off as sad, insecure, and is a somewhat pathetic attempt to be the glue to keep you both together. You cannot save a relationship all by yourself. If he is interested in someone else, calling that person will not change the situation. He will just find a new place to hide the numbers.

Understand that I had no clue who she was talking about, and because I am a Christian woman, I did not let the Devil let me tell her off the way I would have in my younger years. This is not my first time being called by a woman regarding the behaviors of her man. I cannot force him to be honest about his marital status, and my ignorance to his situation cannot be held against me. I've witnessed many a chick fight over a cheating man and watched the man stand back laughing or slink away without any scars.

Ladies! No more! Let's stop barking up the wrong tree, and put an end to the cat fights. It's 2009, a new year. Let him do the spring cleaning, not you. Leave his phone alone. And please don't call me about him unless you want to pray.

For all the trouble she went through, I probably should have asked her to buy my CD.