Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Conversations with my father…

Posted: September 1, 2016 in Uncategorized

​”Trying to fit a social construct when you’re not part of that social group to begin with, means you’ve already failed. Put your energy elsewhere. People from all ethnicities, genders, sexual orientation and abilities will let you down because they’re people. Some with the mightiest agendas and hordes of followers are the first to fall because they start believing their own greatness. All heros are assholes at some point. Buddha wasn’t always the Buddha, Mother Teresa didn’t value all groups equally, Gandhi tested himself by using others including young girls, and so on. Too many want a hero so they blindly trust. Worship no one and trust no human who tells you how to…” – 

-Conversations with my father. 


I haven’t blogged much in the last month or so because I decided that working long hours would be a good thing! Well, it is. But the long, crazy hours and tasks left me pretty drained and in need of a good weekend break with time to myself to read, write, sleep, and spend time with those most important to me. I’m not an introvert, as far as most of those personality tests can tell, but I do enjoy time alone, yes, even on a Friday or Saturday night, aka prime partaay times, or feel shy when in large groups. Does this mean that the tests are wrong? *gasp*

Is this ENTJ with a lil “P” border on the Meyers-Briggs test really an “I”, just a little? Ha! I say no. I think it just means that we’re on different scales, or sides, or levels or whatever sliding model you’re using, and that as humans, many of us aneed to do something different at times to recharge our human cells. “All work and no play makes for a dull boy or girl”…remember? I did throw in some awesome fun adventures like birthday celebrations part two of many, and visited a wonderful farmers market! But after that, rest and reflection, with bouts of physical activity made for a fabulous time.

Either way, I hope like me, you all have a chance to recharge at some point and feel refreshed and energized about life and enjoy your weekend! 

Bloggers are Sleeping Giants

Posted: June 23, 2014 in Uncategorized

Awesome post that I want you to check out. “Bloggers are Sleeping Giants”

To The Mattresses of Mediocrity

Posted: February 9, 2014 in Uncategorized

Sharing something I hope you’ll enjoy. All credit for this reblogged post to Dean J. Baker, the award-winning author of The Herald, Baker’s Bad Boys, and the forthcoming collections of poems and prose poems, Silence Louder Than A Train. Found: and

Question: If I published a short story (e-book via amazon with ~6,300 words), would you buy it? If so, how much would pay? 

Genre: Fiction. Age Range: Teen – Young Adult.

The Aces 

Okay. My hotel is in walking distance,” Gigi said.

Peter and Carey stood up and Gigi walked out from behind the bar. Peter whispered something in Carey’s ear.

“You kids just go. Carey, I’ll be at the hotel if you need anything.”  

Peter left the restaurant and Carey stood with Gigi.  He didn’t know what he was getting himself into or who this girl was, but he desired her accent.

 “Shall we go?” Carey asked.

“Sure,” Gigi replied. 

Carey walked to the door and opened it for Gigi. She thanked him and he followed her lead.

The late afternoon rush to the shops was underway. People had their bags in both hands and were walking in and out of shops like the world was going to end tomorrow.

Carey and Gigi walked down the block with the crowd. Ahead of them was the hotel. When they arrived in the lobby, it looked like a palace with palms trees inside. 

“This hotel looks better than mine,” Carey laughed.

“Oh,” Gigi answered back in a questionable tone.

The floor in the lobby was tan marble. There were two palm trees planted on both sides of the door. The front desk looked like it was carved out of stone marble as well as the stairs leading up. There were stone benches sitting silently beyond the front desk. 

Carey looked at Gigi and then at the lobby area. He was trying to figure out how she could afford this.

“Okay. You can stay in the lobby or come up to my room. It doesn’t matter to me,” Gigi said to Carey.

Carey thought of what to do. If he stayed in the lobby, he would attract attention. If he followed Gigi to her room, what would happen there? Carey looked at her with a hint of caution in his eyes, but he felt comfortable around her. 

“Carey, what do you want to do? I don’t have all the time in the world like you, you know.”

“I am a gentleman,” Carey said with a serious face.

Gigi laughed at him. He questioned her with his eyes.

“Oh, please. You are not that good-looking. The reason I mentioned my room is that I know you don’t want to bring attention to yourself. If you’re waiting on the bench in the lobby that may bring some attention and I don’t want Sandra to think you’re cheating on her. Right now, it’s the afternoon rush; no one cares at this moment.”

“I am sorry. You know a lot about how entertainers act,” Carey said.

“You just know. Follow me.”

Carey followed Gigi to the elevators. Carey looked around his environment and Gigi looked at him.

“What are you doing?” Gigi asked.

“Looking around,” Carey said with one of Gigi’s attitude looks.

“You’re standing too close to me and stop looking around. You’re not even wearing a hat and sunglasses, you know,” Gigi pointed out.

Carey looked at her surprised. He took her advice and just stared at the floor not saying a word. When the elevator reached the ground level, it opened wide. People streamed out, as if the elevator were filled with water and Gigi, Carey, and other people standing behind them were pushed about like algae in the sea.   

“There are cams,” Gigi whispered to Carey, as she walked onto the elevator. 

Carey followed her lead, but he stood away from her and continued to look at the floor. Gigi was close to the floor buttons on the wall of the elevator.

When the elevator reached the twelfth floor, the door opened. Carey and Gigi pushed through the tight little crowd until they got out. Carey acted like he didn’t know Gigi and Gigi did the same. When Gigi opened her hotel room door, they both looked around in the hallway. The hallway seemed clear, so they both scooted in the room quickly. 

“Okay. This is the tour,” Gigi said.  

Carey looked around the room; it was more of an apartment than a room. There was a living room, dining room, kitchen, and by the looks of it, a bathroom was in the bedroom. The room looked better than his. 

“I shall sit in the living room,” Carey announced.

         “Okay. I have bottles of juice in the fridge.”

         “Thank you.”

In the living room, the walls were painted bone white with gold trim. The carpet was soft and deep. Carey took off his shoes and his feet fell deep into the colored sea. The loveseat and the chair were colored in an array of browns. In the middle of the living room, there was a glass coffee table. Carey saw a white loose-leaf notebook on it. He took a closer look at the notebook. It had the title “New York Minute” on the front. 

“What is this?” Carey asked out loud.

Carey wanted to pick it up but he didn’t want to look through her things. He looked around to shift his attention away from the notebook, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“Who is this woman?” Carey whispered.

Gigi walked out of the bedroom and into the living room. She saw the notebook on the coffee table, closed her eyes tight, and opened them again. Carey stared at Gigi. She had on a tight brown and black T-shirt with torn, light blue jeans.

“What’s wrong?” Gigi asked.

“You know about the movie, New York Minute?”

“Oh, the notebook on the table,” Gigi said stalling. “Oh yeah, I’m trying out for the part of the girl,” Gigi continued.

“Really, I am auditioning for the lead in the part,” Carey said.

“The New York accent. I got it,” Gigi said.

         “Yes, you see. I need your accent,” Carey replied.

“I see.”

“Who is your agent?” Carey asked.

“She doesn’t like me to mention her name.”

Carey was confused because agents always wanted to be noticed in the media; they were always looking for clients. If an agent didn’t want to be known in the business, they had a bad reputation or they were not legit.

“How much do you pay the agent?” Carey asked curiously.

         “Nothing, she gets ten percent of my earnings,” Gigi said with confidence. 

To Carey, that deal wasn’t bad. His agent got thirty percent of all of his earnings and his manager got thirty percent. Plus, he had to pay his spokesperson, personal assistant, and accountant. Half of his own earnings went to the people who worked for him. Gigi’s agent just getting ten percent for what she made, he wanted to be a client. Maybe he didn’t have to work so hard. 

“Can we go?” Gigi asked.


“Remember, we don’t know each other,” Gigi said.

“Wait, I need to go to the bathroom.”


Carey walked to the bathroom and closed the door. He sat on the toilet seat to think about the situation. If Gigi were a new actress in the media world, she would want to be seen with me, right? If she were seen with me, then she would be popular.

Carey took a deep breath and stood up. As a habit, he flushed the toilet and washed his hands. He opened the door and walked toward Gigi. “Shall we?” Carey asked.


Stepping out the front door, Gigi put on her sunglasses and waited for the elevator. When it arrived she got on. As soon as the elevator doors shut, Carey peeked out of the room and into the hallway. He started to walk out of the room, but he stared at notebook on the table. He shook his head and walked to the elevators. Arriving in the lobby, he looked for Gigi. He saw her in the gift shop buying something. He stared at her, hoping she could feel his eyes on her and like magic she glanced at him with her sunglasses on and nodded at him showing recognition. Carey walked out of the hotel and waited for Gigi on the sidewalk. She joined him outside and pointed in the direction they were going.

“Where are we going?” Carey asked. 

Gigi and Carey acted as if they were in their own little world so that they didn’t bring attention to themselves. 

“We’re going to Tuesdays.”

“What do they serve at that restaurant?”

“American and Mexican food.”

“Good,” Carey said.

Inside the restaurant, the place looked more like a place to hang with friends then an upscale restaurant he was used to when eating with friends in the States. There people were playing video games, watching television, sitting at the bar, and listening to music. By looking at the surroundings, the restaurant made him see what type of girl Gigi was, but she still had a mysterious side that he needed to tap into. While the host showed them a booth, Gigi took off her sunglasses.

“You know, you’re kinda good-looking in dark light,” Gigi said with a smirk.

Carey is a celebrity and every girl and woman fantasized about him and treated him like a model or a god. However, Gigi treated him like a normal person. She didn’t see him as a star and anything special like that, only as a person. He was confused and didn’t know why she wasn’t taking advantage of him and of his status. He was waiting for her to take a picture of him or get on her cell phone and brag to her friends that she was with Carey Roland, the actor and model. Gigi seemed to be treating Carey as a person, a true friend, not taking advantage of him like everyone else. 

“Can you be serious for once?” Carey asked.

“Whatever. Anyway, so you want to talk like a New Yorker.”

“Yes, I do.”

“The rule is do not pronounce your R’s.”


“Yep. For example, I saw the ca. Or, I will see you lata,” Gigi explained.


“Yes. Right,” Gigi said, making fun of his accent.

“I must not pronounce the R’s at the end of the word.”

“Correcto,” Gigi said.

“I can learn the accent in a few hours,” Carey said confidently.

Gigi looked at the table and smiled. She sucked her teeth and looked at him again. She knew he was dreaming.  This wasn’t Peter Right in front of her. She read in a magazine that it even took him a few days to learn an accent. She lived in New York all her life and some people believed she didn’t talk like a real New Yorker, like the ones they saw on television and in the movies.

“What do you think?” Carey asked Gigi.

“The truth is that I don’t think you can learn a New York accent in a few hours. It takes time.”

“I reckon I can,” Carey said.

“If you believe so,” Gigi replied disbelievingly.

Carey and Gigi sat at their table on the side of the wall. They were acting like normal people who were hanging out. No one was around them, taking pictures, asking for autographs, or slipping Carey their portfolio.  

“Hello. I’ll be your waitress tonight. My name is Lynn.”

“Hello, Lynn,” Carey said to the waitress.

The waitress had long brown straight hair, brown eyes, and an olive skin tone. She looked young, like around eighteen. Gigi studied her closely and saw that she was well kempt – a person who didn’t need to have a job. 

In her sweet childlike voice she asked, “What would you like to drink?”

“Mountain Dew, please,” said Gigi.

“Coffee, please,” Carey said.

Lynn wrote down the orders and walked away.

“You did it,” Gigi said excitedly.

“Did what?”

“You said coffee with a New York accent,” Gigi exclaimed.

         “Coffee. I saw a television show about New York and the guy said coffee. Peter said that I must listen to how people speak,” Carey explained.

“Correcto. He’s right.”

“See, I am learning,” Carey said smiling.

“Whoopee. You said one word. In the script, you have to feel like a New Yorker. Live the lifestyle. You know, you have to be a New Yorker.”

“I understand. I want to pass the audition first and then I can study my role closely,” Carey said.

Gigi looked at him and said, “Did you follow the same procedures for Young Boys?”

“Why do you ask?”

“If you did, that explains everything,” Gigi said.

“Excuse me?”

“How do you think you did in Young Boys?”

“Excellent. I captured the essence of the character.” 

 Gigi had been waiting to have this conversation with Carey for a long time. She saw Young Boys with her friend Cinda. They both thought the movie was done badly, but Carey’s performance was poor beyond anything they could think of. Before Young Boys, Carey had been in different movies, which he performed to perfection. In Young Boys, Carey’s family and the person who he had conflicts with spoke with an American accent, while he spoke with an English accent. The movie was so bad that Gigi and Cinda demanded their three dollars back from the cheap theater. 

“Yes. It was a perfect role for me,” Carey continued, reminiscing.

         “How did you get the role?” Gigi asked.

“I auditioned. Why all the questions?”

“Do you want to hear the truth?” Gigi asked.

Carey looked flustered with Gigi’s questions and comments about the movie he made with the top actors and actresses in the world. Plus, he showed the media that he could be sexy, love women, and act outside the realm of Files. He needed that role to prove to the world and himself that he was not a one hit wonder.

“Right. The truth,” Carey said with his right eyebrow raised.

“Hello, here are your drinks,” Lynn said cheerily.

Lynn passed out the drinks and then asked Gigi, “What would you like to eat?”

Gigi gave the menu back to Lynn. “Steak fajitas.”

“And you, sir?” Lynn asked Carey.

“The same,” Carey replied, giving her back the menu.

Lynn wrote the order on her pad, put the menu under her right arm, and walked away.

“You like steak fajitas?” Gigi asked Carey.

“You must not change the subject,” Carey said.

“Well, first of all,” Gigi started, after she drank some of her soda, “you’re good-looking with and without clothes on, but did you realize your family didn’t speak with an English accent? Not only were you the only person in the whole movie that spoke with an English accent, everyone else spoke with an American accent. Plus, the role you picked for yourself was the wrong choice,” Gigi continued.


“Yes, I finally said it. I can’t wait to tell Cinda,” Gigi said more to herself than Carey.


Carey fought to get the role in Young Boys. He even did something to get the role that he didn’t want to do again. He got bad reviews, but all the women loved his naked body. Now he was sitting across from a person who was telling him the bad reviews to his face. He didn’t know what to say or what to think after that. He felt bad, but the public spoke.

“I’m sorry. My friend and I asked for our money back from that movie,” Gigi confessed.

“No, I am sorry,” he said, looking down.

“Just pick better roles, please. I enjoy you in roles you can play, not roles you can’t play. Not everyone can play every single character they see in a script. Look at Peter. He can play characters with different accents who are strangers to the outside world, but I know he couldn’t play Batman in a movie.” 

“Do your friends criticize your acting?” Carey asked.

“Yes, all the time. They criticize me about anything I do. When I become a big star, they will always be my friends. I love them.”

“How many friends do you have?” Carey inquired.


“I must say, you have a normal life,” Carey said.

“Yep. I hope to keep it that way.”

“I have to use the bathroom,” Carey said suddenly.

“You’re a grown man, you don’t have to make an announcement,” Gigi said.

“I hope you do become big one of these days. The media will love your pleasant attitude,” Carey said sarcastically.

“I know they will.”

         Carey walked to the bathroom with his head down. He sat on the toilet with the seat down; his favorite seat to think things out. 

Young Boys was a film about a family living through the Great Depression. Carey was one of the sons of a coalminer who lost his job. In the movie, Carey had sex (fake act) with his girlfriend, the beautiful Jamie Rowels, so he could forget about the depression. Carey’s goal in acting in the film was to show the American audience he could play in an American role about American lives. He also wanted to show the audience he had a good-looking body without clothes on. While he told the media about his hard work on the set, the critics and reviews had said he was lousy, lazy, and hard to watch, and an English person acting in an American epic turned them off. The reviews did hurt Carey’s feelings because in order to get into the film, he had to do something he wanted to forget. He knew his accent wasn’t right for the part, but the director told him not to worry, his acting and good-looking body would make up for the accent.   

Carey started to cry and the tears burned his hands and cheeks like pure acid. After a moment, he wiped his face with his hands, said a little prayer, and crossed himself. He walked out of the stall and looked in the mirror. He saw a good-looking celebrity looking back at him. “I am better now,” Carey said to himself and left the bathroom.

At the bathroom door he looked at Gigi and thought, For a beginner in the business, she is rude. You would think that she would want to build up contacts, instead of burning bridges.

“So, how did you like the script?” Carey asked Gigi when he sat down at the table.

“I loved it!” Gigi said.


“The message behind it.”

“You mean the love storyline?” Carey asked.

“No, the message about life and how you should live,” Gigi explained.

“Excuse me? I don’t understand.” He read the script, but he didn’t get the same underlying message Gigi got. He thought the movie was about love between a successful white man and a beautiful black woman who possessed crystal blue eyes.

Gigi looked at Carey and put her fork down.         “Did you read the script?”

“Yes,” Carey said.

“Did you read the book?”

“There is a book?” Carey asked.

“Yes. But even if you didn’t read the book, you should have gotten the message. Live your own life to the fullest every day because you may not be able to get a second chance in life.”

“In the script, it’s about a man who is a playboy and then falls in love with a woman. When the woman leaves him, he is depressed. The script made me understand what true love is and how it makes you feel,” Carey explained.

“That’s true, but maybe you should have read the book. It was on the best sellers list last year and this year.”

While Gigi and Carey finished eating, they talked about the script, which turned into a conversation about the movie industry. He didn’t tell her about all the horror stories about the industry because he was afraid that he might tell on himself. He knew he had suffered a lot to get where he is today; it still gives him nightmares. He had asked himself several times why he needed to be in the media spotlight. He knew he could act on television shows or in plays in the UK, but he had a drive to be known in America and all over the world for that matter. 

“So, is it worth being known as an A-list actor?”  Gigi asked.

More to come on Monday!!


About Aliya Leigh:

Aliya LeighSince being the host of her drama gossip news driven popular podcast, she have been keeping her life busy with producing  and directing anime webshows, acting, writing books, designing skateboards and running a social media company while holding down the fort at home with her professional poker playing partner.  Her current show is entitled, “Mercy Me – Deadly Professional”; which is an animated web series about a drug and sex addicted medical doctor who practices euthanasia for a fee.

My Chucks

Posted: February 6, 2012 in Uncategorized

You helped me overcome my first day anxiety,
Walking through the hallways of my new high school,
I looked around to see many others just like you walking by,
I fit in.
Something I never did before.
Distressed jeans, matching top – none of those mattered
for the coolness factor, only my high top chucks.
In college you were one of a kind
I made you uniquely mine,
painted your sides with multiple peace signs,
love conquers hate signs,
rage against ‘Nam signs….never mind I was a decade late
for that particular political stance.
You protected me against weather,
Honestly, only barely but more importantly,
your safe walls steered me away from a life destined for pure and utter introverted geek fame.
So no matter how often your popularity comes or goes,
How designers may glam up your name,
I continue to rock my chucks – high top or low cut.
However, I do draw the line at the prettied-up plaid sparkly ones,
Not because I’m a snob; but because I need originality.
For me, this isn’t a style, it’s part of my identity.