Writer's Block.

Less than two weeks in to the blogging life and I've already broken the cardinal rule: Write. Write. Write. In the time since my last entry, I've had at least one seemingly brilliant idea each day, but by the time I started typing and editing the post in Word, my mind had moved on to something else. So tonight I write. Not to produce anything witty or memorable, but to conquer the overwhelming feelings of self-doubt that creep in whenever I click on the link to open a new post. I haven't even told anyone else that this blog exists. It's almost like a secret diary that I have intentionally left on the kitchen table in the hopes that someone discovers it without my introduction. Dear Reader (if you exist), thanks for stopping in.

(BMW) Black Married Woman

One of the key pillars of the Huxtable Driven Life is the desire for a passionate marriage. At its core, The Cosby Show was a love story between Cliff and Clair Huxtable and a testament to the happily ever after ideal that we all aspire to on our wedding day. Rather than degrading each other for laughs, or worse, becoming the punch lines for a house full of sarcastic children, Cliff and Clair were portrayed as a couple in control of their home and still madly in love after years of marriage. Lest the viewer believe that they were an anomaly, over the course of the show we were treated to more loving examples of committed marriages in the storylines that explore both of their parents and the adult relationships of their children. Cliff and Clair wee more than friends, intellectual equals, and great parents; they were first and foremost zealous lovers enjoyed nothing more than listening to jazz and allowing the viewer to draw obvious conclusions about the ultimate result of their g-rated kisses on the living room couch.

I have been married for 8 years. Instead of kissing on the couch with a jazz serenade, we have mostly settled for quick pecks in the kitchen while music from my children’s favorite kiddy show temporarily disables their CB radar with mesmerizing nonsense. Not very romantic.

I went to church the other night to attend a marriage seminar presented by my pastor and his wife. During a session on intimacy in which the pastor met with all of the wives alone, he introduced a new term that stuck with me. “BMW- Black Married Woman”- sadly, these days we are even more rare than the car by the same name. Statistically, 45% of us have never been married. In fact, from 1950 to 2002, the percentage of married black women nosedived from 62% to 31%. Instead of congratulating us for beating the odds, his message was sobering, “there is always someone ready and willing to take your man- and they will if you let them.”

Hearing this blunt truth from a man (of God no less!) was like being shaken awake out of a deep sleep after ignoring a blaring alarm clock for hours. I’d heard it all before, but suddenly I was paying attention. He lectured all of us on the importance of passion in marriage and used an iceberg analogy to explain his point. According to his illustration, BMWs are like an iceberg- above the surface we often have little flash, but below the surface we have great depth that reveals our intelligence, character, and overall worth as a woman. On the contrary, there are many women who sacrifice depth for superficial flash and they float through life trying to catch the eye of any man who can be distracted. They promise everything up front, with none of the strings that ultimately earned the ring on the BMWs finger. Unfortunately for the BMW, a man’s eye is always open and what is above the surface is much easier to spot.

My pastor summed up his analogy with a word of advice: Don’t forget to focus on the flash. Step up your appearance. Be more passionate. Give him you’re A game in this area, because your flashy competition definitely will. In order words, don’t give him any reason to scan the horizon for someone else. Shine.

The Huxtable Driven Life requires a passionate marriage. Perhaps for me, the first step is to polish up the goods a bit. This BMW is ready to go to work.

And so it begins...

Writing a blog is like dancing naked across a dark stage knowing that at any minute, the lights might come up and a crowd full of spectators could be focused on your every move.

Today I have the naïve joy and false confidence of putting my thoughts out there knowing that not another soul has any clue of their existence.

I have the absolute freedom to tell the world what I really think about serious controversial issues, or to focus on lighthearted observations about topics that will be irrelevant next week.

I can write as though I assume that everyone in the world agrees with me, because until a comment says otherwise, there is no evidence to the contrary.

I know that this post may one day be read by thousands of people, or eventually die a simple death by deletion, read only by my mother, and my husband (if nothing more interesting catches his eye on ebay or itunes first).

So with that in mind Dear Reader (if you exist), this blog is a private quest with public oversight- a means to an end, if you will. It is my declaration that I love to write, and I have the discipline to do it; and ultimately it is the precursor to my lifelong dream of writing a novel without fear of how the world will receive it.

I’m ready to get undressed (metaphorically speaking…) see you at the theater.