Karen tossed and turned. She laid on her right side for awhile, then flopped to her left. It was no use; the sun seemed to be beaming into her room from every direction. She pulled a fluffy pillow over her head and lay completely still. She waited. Rays of sun seeped under the pillowcase and beneath her pillow. Nothing was helping! She flipped over onto her back. She was frustrated. She had been up the better part of twenty hours and wanted to go to sleep, needed to go to sleep. Her first off day in three days, and she couldn’t even get to sleep. Oh, the irony, she thought to herself. She rolled out of bed and walked over to her espresso-colored nightstand. She grabbed her black sleeping mask. She walked back over to the bed, crawled back in and pulled the mask over her face. Finally!

Her joy wouldn’t last long. It was as if the sun had slithered under her windows, into her bed and underneath her mask. “That is it!” she yelled. She yanked off her mask and climbed out of bed, pulling her cover and pillow with her.

Walking into the bathroom, she flicked on the light and inspected the tub. Once she was certain that it was dry, she turned off the light, tossed her pillow at the head of the tub and climbed in. Karen extended her legs and then pulled them closer to her. She tucked her comforter around her body as she lay in the fetal position. She lay silently for minutes. Slowly, her eyes became heavy, her breathing slowed and she was taken away to a much needed place of rest.

                                             © Tierra Allen. All rights reserved.

One of my biggest pet peeves is people with no connection whatsoever to what they are talking about. For example, it really burns me up when people who don’t listen to rap music and haven’t listened to it since Run DMC came out try to give an analysis of what’s happening this day in age as a result of music. How can you blame music for anything if you don’t actually listen to it? Please stop talking.

Another one; people who don’t go to church but want to tell you how preachers are. The reason they don’t go to church is because pastors rob their congregations of all their money and drive around in fancy cars…Where exactly do you get this from if the last time you went to church was Easter Sunday ’88? Please stop.

To me, you don’t have to BE a preacher or an aspiring rapper just have some connection to that realm. You are literally speaking on something that you have no knowledge of and it’s off-putting and makes you sound dumb.

Oh, another one; bible thumpers. I love the Lord, he heard my cry, and I’ll testify to that any day. What I can’t get with is the scripture manipulators. You know, the ones who will tell you John 3:16 (For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son…) refers to the way that Black men raise their children…or fail to. “Black men give their children to the streets…ah huh, because GAWD…first gave his, can I get an amen?” Jesus doesn’t need you to be Him, he needs you to follow Him. I said it before and I’ll say it again, some people think they can do Jesus better than He did Himself. STOP IT! I beg of thee. I can’t deal!

Today I drove down a street lined with tall trees. The square sign indicated that I could only drive 50 mph. I decided to do 60. I turned right on 12th and headed down the street. After crossing a set of train tracks and Walton Way, I turned right onto the street that led to Tabernacle Baptist Church. There was a black police officer directing traffic as well as several people crossing the street. One lady was dressed in her “Sunday’s Best.” I didn’t know which way to go. I looked right; there were cars lining both sides of the street. I kept straight. Making a quick left into the parking lot to the side of me, I maneuvered my way through the over- and illegally-parked cars and stopped. Just seconds shy of giving up, a car came pulling out of a spot. There was a white four-door car coming up behind them. Dammit! I thought, they’re going to take my spot. To my surprise (and luck) they kept driving straight. I let them clear the narrow aisle before I whipped my car into the spot. I checked my hair and nose one last time. There was a little white speck on the upper part of my nostril. I picked at it until I got it to disappear. I didn’t need people thinking I had a booger hanging out of my nose.

I stepped my left, blue and black leopard-covered heel out of the car and followed with my right. I grabbed my orange clutch and shut the door. I pointed behind me and locked the door and stopped. There was a red brick building in front of me and a huge building to my right. Which of these is the church? One building said “Tabernacle Baptist Church Youth Center” and another said “Tabernacle Baptist Church.” I decided to head toward the church. I was already running one minute behind. I noticed as I walked toward the church that no one else had on jeans. Many women wore pants, but they were slacks. I placed my keys in my clutch and crossed the street at the crossing guard’s order. Behind me were two girls; one of them was chatting away about some guy who was a good catch because she wasn’t looking to be tied down right now. The conversation wasn’t exactly appropriate for church, but…to each its own.

I walked up the steps and into one set of two-door openings. There were two women standing in front of a table. The people who’d walked in with me knew where to go. They were heading in opposite directions. I had two options—right or left. I pointed to my right and asked if that was the direction I needed to go in. The lady closest to me stated that I needed to go up the stairs, she then tossed her arms open to hug one of the young ladies from outside. I walked up yet another set of stairs and saw another set of doors. Trying my luck, I went for the two right in front of me. I stepped inside…

The simplest things are always so profound to me. Today's lesson is to exhaust every option. Pastor Sharee Johnson--www.ShareeJohnson.com—mentioned this during one of her virtual bible studies a few weeks back and I had a real life experience today.

Scenario: I've been wanting to get microbraids for quite some time. I finally find a place that's reasonably priced and set an appointment. My appointment was for 2pm today. I get there, see that there are two people working, each with a client in their chair. Neither of the clients are close to being done. Immediately, I'm frustrated. Why can't Black people (Africans included) get their ish together? I inwardly complain. I'm feeling like, hey, I have an appointment; you need to tell one of these kids to give up their seat—Rosa Parks style. Finally, the lady asks me to come back...in 2 1/2 hours. Ma'am, you have my number; you could have called me! Now you've wasted both my time and my gas. I'm furious. Secret about me: I hate inefficiency and poor customer service.

I leave and call every hair braiding result that came up in Google. Unfortunately they weren't offering anything in my price range. I was as the point of saying, "Forget it." Looks like I'll have to suck it up. However, there was one other place I hadn't gone. But after two other places had mentioned something steep I assumed this person would too. Oh, what the hell? It's up the street, I said to myself, might as well check it out. I did. Not only can the lady do my hair in the price range I prefer, it might even be cheaper and she's throwing in a little extra just because.

As I always say, "Peace of mind is priceless." Like me, you don't have to settle. Exhaust every possibility. Don't give up until you get what you want!