Hit The Ground & Run

I'm so drained from today, but I feel I have to write this out more for me and to keep my motivation level high more than anything. Today (Tuesday) kicked off my second week of school. Actually it was my first full day of classes, since at the start of last week one professor that I have for two classes was out. My schedule isn't bad with classes only on Tuesdays and Thursdays; Four classes with Tuesday starting around 9:40 am and ending at 3:30 with three courses and Thursday starting at 9:40 am and ending at 7 pm. One class only meets once a week (Thurs.) and I do have an hour and thirty-five minutes window in the afternoon.

This semester I happen to be taking the last of my major (journalism) courses. Though not hard, the expectations are high and the concentration is pretty intense. I consider it my journalism boot camp as I'll be back in the field.. hands on. Pitching, writing and editing articles for local publications and a school run website that services ALL of DC. For the website I was assigned a beat. Each student was asked to pick a ward of the city for their beat. Naturally I chose my own, Ward 7, since I pretty much know the who's who and obviously in a good standing relationship with YA. So there is no excuse why I shouldn't be able to deliver when it comes to this.

All of us (journalism students) are bracing ourselves for next week. The inauguration. It's a big possiblity that we will dispatched at various locations covering the various events. We were given the opportunity to submit our names as volunteers for WashingtonPost.com; to produce stories and reaction pieces for them. Yet there are mixed emotions about covering this event. Folks are worried about the cold, but really in the realm of journalism... it's almost like the postman's creed. Rain, Sleet or snow, he delivers. Faculty is having a hard time smoothing over the logistics, especially with security measure being taken to a whole other level. Even as I sat in on an ANC (neighborhood meeting) tonight, YA was there explaining procedures for tickets and security for those interested in attending.

It's enough to make my head form a dull headache. Actually it did. As I listened to council hearings about all of the events taking place for Martin Luther King's birthday, the demonstration that's coming to town on Monday AND the inauguration... there was just this overwhelment in the council members voices. A lot of the District residents and those living just outside of DC are feeling like "Just get it over with." I'm overhearing conversations on campus of various students are still excited, but ready for action. More like skip the pomps and circumstances, just swear Obama in, move the family in and move on.

Road closures, free/highways will be closed (I395, I66). With the swell of people expected secret service and homeland security are asking folks to be in place to their desired event (parade or swear in) no later than 7 am. That's just to be in line to go through security. What's a bit disturbing is the fact that secret service/homeland security will turn away people from an area; i.e. bleacher seats, if they are filled to capacity, no matter if the person bought a ticket to sit in the bleachers or not.

Craziness.

YA is offering me tickets to the parade. More than likely I will have to accept in order to get "the job" done. I will have to let her know by Thursday on what I plan to do. If I go, I will be stationed at The Wilson Building, which is a DC government building literally next door to the White House. The city council is housed in the building and YA's office has a beautiful wide view of Pennsylvannia Ave.

Aside from the journalism boot camp I'm under this semester, I'm also taking one of my minor courses as well. Sometimes I wonder what was I thinking in picking African-American studies as a minor, knowing it's a concentration that will encourage research papers or something of the like. I think in the past this is part of why a lot of times I felt tremendously overwhelmed. Doing too much. Writing here. Writing there. Writing everywhere, if I wanted to or not. Then pulse fades until it's no more.

Every time I regrouped and attempted to get back to life I would vow to myself that I won't get overwhelmed. The semester is only four short months. I can do this. Yet each time I would slip and fall back down.  Funny, I spent much of this past weekend thinking about the last three years in which I was out of school. I think the time was needed, but it also caught me with my gaurd down. Eventually I fell into some kind of methphoric repose.. my runt. I got a bit tickled today as one of my professors asked returning students how was their break.. as in holiday break. I kinda laughed and thought about my three year break.

"Oh it was fine Professor_______. Picked up a few gigs. Had a baby. Wild out a bit. But I'm back now."

As crazy as it may seem and even as frustrating it has been for me I actually LOVE what happened to me. As the old folks say, "no test. no testimony." The more I think or reflect on my depression, my breakdown, my relapses, the gains and loses of my life I'm loving it. It's molding me in ways that I never thought I could or would be. It has opened my eyes a bit more about who I am.

The more I think about this semester the more I'm beginning to think.. this beaten and worn path was made for me. NOW is the time I show what I'm really made of. A single mom of a daughter that is in a stage where she is demanding your attention, taking on a course load in a field where much is demanded of her to be called here and there....wow.

Granted, mothers in my position have practically been doing this since the dawn of time. Still when it comes to the nitty gritty.. it's time to step up and show that resilance.. be the resilance.

A couple times today I caught myself thinking and praying over and over. Hoping that this was it. That I wasn't and wouldn't be in over my head this semester. Being a journalist is like riding a bike to me, but now it's really time to take off the training wheels. If I want to be taken seriously I have to step up the game, match and exceed those expectations coming from the professionals who are teaching me.

I've always taken pride in the professors that I had to guide me along the way. Well known journalists from major publications and networks. Yet I managed to only have wanderlust moments with them when I take their class and never try to make a strong connection. Hoenstly, I wasn't ready...for real life. This time it's different. I've already started to create a working relationship with one editor of a magazine and working on others.

More importantly, my completion of my degree has nothing to do with me anymore. True I want to finish a task I started many moons ago. However, my daughter is my focus. My only hope is that I build upon an empire.. a legacy that she can be heir to.

Fuck.. just started to cry.......................

It's after one. I need to go to bed. Though I don't have class tomorrow I still need to get up early. Contractors are coming back. We're in the real final phase of the renovations. Aside from that I still have an early morning appointment to make.

In the end of this entry.. all I can do is brace myself. This is gonna be "drive" of my life....so far.