Jonathanjbrown

And here we are once again celebrating Black History Month. There are some Black people that are not fans of black history month. Some complain that it's the shortest month of the year. Others feel that we, as Black people don't need the attention and we should just move on—assimilation complete. Then there are those like actor, Morgan Freeman, who feel that it's "an insult" framing it as a way of confining Black Americans history to one month. He believes our history should be recognized as a part of the full national story. I get what Morgan and others are saying, and I agree. Blacks are a part of American history. It should just simply be: history. The problem is the authors. Those who keep track of the history. And sadly, those who rewrite history. Editors abound, unfortunately. Years ago I was with my mother when she received an early copy of a history text book to be used in high schools. (I forget which province). My mother was asked to write a Forward. She...

Starbucks To The Rescue! Really?  We've all been hearing that protein in our diets is essential. Protein is without a doubt the bell of the 2026 diet ball. I'm on board with it. Starbucks, in a heroic move has added whey protein to some of it's drinks. This is all good, right? Whey protein is the liquid portion left over when milk is curdled and strained during the making of cheese. Ring a bell from years passed?  Little Miss Muffet rocked on that tuffet gnashing her curds and whey, when that bad ass spider cruised up beside her and said, "S'up girl?" Miss Muffet said, "Oh hell no!" And bolted. What you might not know is the spider rocked that whey protein and built a sick web, in like, ten seconds and trapped 99 sucka flies. * Author's note: I might be bullshitting on that last part. S'up girl? The good intentions of Starbucks to bring protein to the masses comes with a price, unfortunately. Said price: SUGAR! Nooooooo!!! Ya see the problem ...

What's with all the negativity around discipline? The word pops up and most of us travel back to the days we were coming up. In those days, we messed up and were disciplined for it. Dang, am I in trouble again? Let's get the hell out of here and switch to the other connotation of the word: to have discipline or be a disciplined person. Ok, that's better. You fu&* up, Timmy! When I tell people of my 365 days of yoga in a row, or the number of hours I write in a day, or that I workout 7 days a week, with or without cancer in these bones, they'll often say, "wow, you are so disciplined." The truth is...not really. Let's say peanut butter and jam sandwiches are your "jam." If you ate a PB&J sandwich every single day, you probably wouldn't feel like a disciplined person. Still, your sandwich eating would be pretty darn maintainable. Why? Because PB&J sandies are awesome. You love the sh%# out of them—no discipline required to choke t...

 When I was coming up in the 1970's, I had to take piano lessons. Lots of kids did. Or at least some other instrument. A good education was at the top and beneath, was learning an instrument. It's what our parents' generation believed. I was on board with it...to a point. I loved music. I loved the piano. Problem was, I was horrible. No natural talent and picking it up under great tutelage...uh, still, no such luck. And I had great teacher. Mrs. Tickner. She was so sweet and incredibly patient. I was about 10 when I started. Fridays after school I'd head to her place on my bike. She'd greet me with the kindest smile. A small plate with two cookies, usually peanut butter, and an 8 ounce glass of milk would always await my arrival—sitting just so on the ledge to the right of the piano. She'd ask me how my school day went. I'd tell her everything in great, slow detail in the hopes she'd be so enthralled, she'd forget I was there for a lesson. My play at...

 NEW YEARS IN OCTOBER! You might be saying (a la TV show, Different Strokes : "whatchu talkin' bout Willis?" We all know people or have been that person that sets a New Year's fitness resolution. January 1st, you hit the ground running. By mid-February, you holler, "I'm out!" I've rapped about this before so allow a Cat to abridge-ify. December is a crazy month of gluttony, and perhaps debauchery. Parties with sweets, booze and big ass portions of food. You are at your hedonistic worst, while having a great time. Then, you expect to rock from that raucous extreme to a heavy workout regime with a clean diet? It's tough, no word of a lie. That's why we fall off. Try this why don't cha!   Begin your New Year's fitness resolution on October 1st. What!?! You heard me—Oct.1st. Begin working out 3-4 days per week. (Assuming you are doing nothing prior to this). Cut out sugar. Knock down your portion size by 25%. Keep the proteins up and bull...

  Why I left Social Media...and What's Been Poppin' Since I'm Outta here This Is Me Off Social! I feel like the drug dealer who's left the game and left a wake of pissed off customers. Not entirely, but I thought that'd make for a cool opener. However, more than a few people close to me have mentioned they miss my posts. In particular, the silly posts. Which, let's be honest, were most of them. Life is short. And when dealing and battling the Big C, it becomes more precious. In her preciousness comes an appreciation of time. Facebook and Instagram were in many ways a time waster for me. Not necessarily the time spent scrolling and the like, but the time spent thinking up posts in my head while away from the laptop. I'd think, "hmm what to post next?" Or "shit, I haven't posted in 39 hours." Or just the thought that people needed my posts. How friggin' narcissistic is that, to think people hovered over phones and laptops awaiting ...