Seven years ago today, a seven year friendship became a marriage. I still remember sweating like a pregnant fish underneath my beautiful white boubou as I was called forward to be introduced to the family of my bride. I can see her beautiful face as she confirmed that I, the short young man standing before her, was The One she had chosen to live the rest and best years of her life with. I felt grateful and still am. It’s an amazing experience to be chosen. To be loved. To be singled out, among seven billion people and be affirmed as worthy enough to receive Love.

I don’t know if there’s such a thing as a perfect marriage. What I know is on the day you enter a perfect marriage, it is no longer perfect. Why? Because you aren’t perfect. The trick is to see the good points and magnify them. My wife has been great at doing this. Even in moments when I’ve taken decisions that totally defy logic, like leaving the world of advertising as a creative director to become a photographer in a country where photographers are thought to be illiterate, dull and dumb, she totally backed me.

There’s nothing as discouraging as when the one person you love doesn’t respect you enough to trust your choices, doesn’t support your dreams and ambitions or is too busy chasing their own dream to notice you are a part of their life. Sacrifice is the master ingredient that makes Love delicious. The only way to experience true love is to just plunge in. Drink deep or taste not. I see too many people replaying the bad experiences of their past and transposing those feelings and fears on new relationships. Trust me, it’s not worth it. All men are not the same. All women don’t have the same mother. Even identical twins are two different people.

Now, let’s talk about sex. There are innumerable blogs, websites, books and articles dedicated to sex. But, honestly, sex outside of love is no different from hugging a cold wall. Where is the warmth? Where is the affection? Every man, every woman deserves better than just sex. Try love. It can be addictive… as it should be.

It’s hard to be this vocal on Love and not arouse the cynicism in some people. I’d like to repeat that mine is not a perfect marriage. Actually, four years ago, my wife and I took “The Marriage Course”, an amazing programme designed by Nick and Sila Lee. It was a life transforming experience. That was when I learnt that we were not the only couple struggling, and also that if we both were serious enough, we could find ways to make it work. I believe in marriage. I believe loving your spouse is the single most important gift you can give your children. But even more importantly, I believe Love is learned. Unfortunately, most people just jump into marriage expecting it to work by itself. You must work the marriage to make it work. I’m still working on mine… and I’m determined to make it work all the way.

Finally, I must say something I wish I could avoid saying but needs to be said: “The people who will hurt you the most in life are the people you love”. Love makes vulnerable. Choosing to love is a dangerous decision but once you make it… and get it working, nothing beats it. Enjoy your week and remember Christmas is the Love Season. Go Love.

There are jewels like this in Baratunde Thurston’s response on CNN.com:

I am a poor black kid. I don’t have great parental or educational resources. I’m not as smart as your kids. These are facts. In 2011.

The one smart thing I do everyday is read Forbes. It’s what all us poor black kids do. Forbes is constantly reporting on issues of relevance to me and my community. This week, I found your article “If I Were A Poor Black Kid” printed out and slid under my door like all Forbes articles.

Thank you Mr. Marks. You have changed everything about my life. Thanks to your article, I worked to make sure I got the best grades, made reading my number one priority and created better paths for myself. If only someone had suggested this earlier.

And this:

With that one article, you solved the problems of millions. Imagine the good you could do with three or four articles! Please don’t stop with poor black kids! What about children trapped in sex trafficking? How about undocumented migrant workers? And of course, there’s women. Have you ever wondered why there aren’t more women CEOs? I’m sure you have. You’ve thought about everything and figured everything out. You are a great man. Thanks again for teaching me about technology.

Further proving that Marks doesn’t get it. He responded to the response about his column, like all journalists worth their salt do. Read that here.

If I was a poor black kid I would first and most importantly work to make sure I got the best grades possible. I would make it my #1 priority to be able to read sufficiently. I wouldn’t care if I was a student at the worst public middle school in the worst inner city. Even the worst have their best. And the very best students, even at the worst schools, have more opportunities. Getting good grades is the key to having more options. With good grades you can choose different, better paths. If you do poorly in school, particularly in a lousy school, you’re severely limiting the limited opportunities you have.

This Missoni for Target computer bag, just like about every other piece in the line, sold out as soon as it was available for purchase. It sold originally for $50. The last time I searched for it, I found it on eBay, and the bid then was at $75. Imagine my surprise when I found the bag in one of my favorite resale stores (The name of it I shall keep a secret. All good girls have a secret or two, right?) for a mere $32.

The obstacles–of course, there were obstacles–were that I couldn’t purchase the bag the Friday I saw it. It was roped off in a you-can’t-buy-this-until-tomorrow section. (And here I was thinking the goal of capitalism was to make money. I didn’t know it mattered when.) The other hurdle: The store isn’t in my metro shopping area, though I pass it pretty often when I’m traveling for work. I wondered if the other shoppers knew what a jewel there was colorfully resting in that bin among the other black, ordinary bags. That made its presence even more palpitation inducing . It was the only one of its kind.

“Would it make me crazy to get up on a Saturday morning and drive more than 30 miles to get to a store when its doors first open to get that bag? … It is a steal. … It is cute. I have wanted it since I first saw it. … But do you really need another bag? … Of course, you don’t! … When has need ever been in the equation when the price is so cheap? …” is the conversation I had with myself all Friday night while driving home, watching television, eating, brushing my teeth and sleeping.

Saturday morning, about 7:30 a.m., I found myself, against my own rational volition, standing under the showerhead as warm water massaged my brown skin. I guess my insides decided I was going to get the bag on their own. I obeyed.

When I arrived at the store 15 minutes before it was scheduled to open, there was a line of people of Black Friday comparison extending itself from the door. “What’s wrong with these people?!” I asked aloud.

You’re thinking to yourself, well, you were there, too. But there’s a difference. I refused to stand in the line that long before the store opened. I, unlike they, have dignity! I didn’t get out of the car and join the line until exactly three minutes before the store opened. But I did have a plan. I said aloud, “Go straight in, do not deviate, look left or right. Keep straight ahead. That bag is the target,” no pun intended.

I walked, with purpose, to the bin and snatched the bag up immediately after being within arm’s reach of it. Some woman’s voice said, “That’s cute. Is there another one?”

I looked through her with inappropriate feelings of victory she probably mistook for contempt and said, “Nope! It’s the only one.”

When I got to the cash register, feeling better about myself than I had all week, the cashier across the counter said, “This is half off. It’s $16.50,” and I thought I was going to pee myself. Instead, I coolly and in hindsight quite sadly said satisfied, “Oh! OK!”

Now that I own the bag, I wonder if I should sell it on eBay? I didn’t carry it after I got it. I just looked at it. And so it goes, such thrills are usually fleeting.

PHILADELPHIA (AP) — Prosecutors on Wednesday abandoned their 30-year pursuit of the execution of convicted police killer Mumia Abu-Jamal, the former Black Panther whose claim that he was the victim of a racist legal system made him an international cause celebre.

Abu-Jamal, 58, will instead spend the rest of his life in prison. His writings and radio broadcasts from death row had put him at the center of an international debate over capital punishment.

Flanked by Officer Daniel Faulkner’s widow, Philadelphia District Attorney Seth Williams announced his decision two days short of the 30th anniversary of the white policeman’s killing.

He said continuing to seek the death penalty could lead to “an unknowable number of years” of appeals, and that some witnesses have died or are unavailable after nearly three decades.

“There’s never been any doubt in my mind that Mumia Abu-Jamal shot and killed Officer Faulkner. I believe that the appropriate sentence was handed down by a jury of his peers in 1982,” said Williams, the city’s first black district attorney. “While Abu-Jamal will no longer be facing the death penalty, he will remain behind bars for the rest of his life, and that is where he belongs.”

Gianmarco Lorenzi Crystal Platform Pump, $2,995

BAM! Yeah … there … are no other words.

Blige says at the end of this interview, “I’m not the most beautiful woman in the world. But I’m one of them.” Say that, girl!

Because images are locked on the site, I’ll show you the bracelet in other finishes. To purchase this $69,500 bracelet for me (or yourself, I suppose, if you want to be greedy), click on the link above and get to ordering!

Hermes Collier de Chien bracelet, silver

Hermes Collier de Chien bracelet, rose gold with 30 carats of brown pave diamonds

So where’s the comma after “one”? You always separate a noun of address from the rest of the sentence with a comma. Always! I guess the people who made this patch and the people in the Lynchings ‘R Us bike club who’d wear it don’t know that. Wonder if a person who knows could get a discount because of the error?!

There are long-term repercussions to what you’re doing now. Everything you do, every thought you have, every word you say creates a memory that you will hold in your body. It’s imprinted on you and affects you in subtle ways–ways you are not always aware of.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how the choices I’ve made–consciously and subconsciously–have created, molded and informed who I am. And then to read this, I’m now wondering what memories, beneficial or not to my growth, I’m carrying around in my body. Then I wonder what part of my body this alien has made its home.