Easy like Sunday morning, not Sunday, Bloody Sunday

Keeping true to my word, I wrote an audacious letter to my prospective mentor yesterday. I started off said letter by stating that I had originally wanted to choose Anita Roddick but since she has been dead for a couple of years, the person I addressed the letter to was my next choice. I didn't send it yet since I want to format it flawlessly and stamp my logo on it. I didn't mention my project(s) directly, just some important common points we have. I will send it tomorrow, Sunday because Sunday is a great day for looking good (it's a day to SHINE, whether you are a sweaty preacher in a pulpit or a Sunday painter showing watercolors at a gallery opening...).

Just a side note--I used to DREAD Sundays. When I was young, I always lived with people who spent the entire Sunday attending church. This includes my extended family of aunts when I lived in Wichita, Kansas (New Covenant), three foster homes (The Goddards in Asbury Park, NJ, Reverend Gerald Cobb in Freehold, NJ and the late driving to New York City to see Reverend "Ike"* with Sue Williams) and finally, my father in Los Angeles (I religiously attended one of the three Sunday services at Crenshaw Christian Center*). Depending on who I was living with or where I was, I would sometimes go to worship services two or three times in a day. What I hated most was having to get up at 6 am. What I hated second most was my hair. No matter what the circumstances, let's just say, I wouldn't have wanted to go to heaven on any of those given Sundays and  have to spend the rest of eternity with my hair like that.

Looking back I am grateful for having had some form of faith to lean on. Though it isn't what I believe now (not literally anyway), I know I got a lot out of those Sundays. If you still don't think Sunday is a day to shine, go to any black church in the US and look at the sistahs dressed in their Sunday best complete with hats I bet you didn't know they made anymore. Ordinary people shining with all their might as they sing praises to the Lord. Preachers getting hearty hallelujas and praise Jeeee-sus with spatterings of AAAY-MAN! All very theatrical. The Sun rules Leo, which among other things, rules the theatre...People getting filled with the Holy Ghost and going into a sort of trance dance that undoubtedly comes from the dances rooted in African ceremonies. Someone getting up and spontaneously speaking in tongues, or glossolalia. Now that's the power of the SUN.

Much later,  I loathed Sundays in a much different way. I had countless daymares and nightmares, fearing what unspeakable doom would await me on Mondays at work. Inevitably, Monday brought the usual generically genial and benign "how was your weekend?", " good but too short" call and response script,  followed shortly by the dreaded cycle of waiting for the weekend all over again. How depressing. For me, this was the most certain and painful way to die an slow, hellish death. For anyone going through this, something CAN be done. If you are at a loss on where to begin change, look to your chart (or horoscope). The answer can be found by examining your SUN!