Last week my school held their annual job fair for those in the communications field. In years before, there has always been a good turn out of both internship/job seekers and recruiters/companies from all sectors of the communications realm. In those years I was always excited to go, especially once I reached the junior and (quasi) senior level, because really that is who the fair is intended for. However freshman and sophomores can attend to browse the exhibit booths and sit-in on the various information sessions lead by a panel.

This year, the closer the date came for the fair, the more disenchanted I had become. Originally I chalked it up to be the so-called "mother hen" on campus, having "been there and done that," here I am a near 30 year old scrambling with 19, 20, 21 year-olds for internship and job possibilities. My energy level for the whole scene seemed...well...low. It couldn't have gotten any lower when I received an email confirming a pre-scheduled interview with a prestigious newspaper that is based in another city and state, but has a DC bureau. Actually I perked up a bit only because I saw a little light of actually doing some work with this paper at their DC bureau, but I was still discouraged that I wasn't pre-scheduled with nearly as many interviews I use to bag from previous fairs.

I honestly felt something was wrong with me and perhaps my resume. Though I've revamped my resume countless times over the past year, my work in the journalism/communications field is so broad. My heaviest concentration is in print/news editorial, but I've had a touch of public relations, technical writing and even creative writing - bios, synopsis writing. Nevertheless, the week caught me in a hectic state as I had four papers to work on and turn in, plus doing preps for the interview. I even worked on changing my attitude about it all and figured that I never know what may come out of this meeting.

The day of the fair was nasty with rain, but people from my school and other HBCUs from near and far came ready in their suits and armed with portfolios. I was in the mix, running back and forth between classes I had mid-term exams in and the fair. When I finally settled in at the fair I noticed how there wasn't really a good number a companies this year.  There were big time companies that had uber long lines of folks waiting to be interviewed and other companies with small to non-existent lines. MY prestigious newspaper had no line, but every now and then a person was in the chair being interviewed. When my turn came I sat down and before I could really get into the meat or the crux of what I'm all about, the elderly white man looked at me, my resume and told me that if I were to intern with them I would need more experience with a daily newspaper. Outside of the work I did in 2001 with a local newspaper, anything else has been on a freelance basis and obviously not really daily, though deadlines were tighter.

Surprisingly I didn't feel shot down by his words. I understood, just as I understood later (via our discussion) that any work I would do for them (internship or employment) would be done in their home base office, especially since they are "shaving" their DC bureau staff considerably. Honestly, I don't think it's the right time for me to pick up and move with the kiddo to another state, especially for just an internship.  We shared a few little laughs in between, he handed me his business card and that was that. However, what took place after was a little uplifting.

I walked around that ballroom for a fourth time, looking through the program book at the profiles of the various companies. I check marked the ones I thought would be of interest. However, after further inspection I learned that though booths were open, a majority were ONLY open to the ones with pre-scheduled interviews. So that knocked off the main booth I wanted to visit.... DC's local NBC affiliate/NBC Universal. Though I had it check marked, I almost walked by the local ABC affiliate.  since I saw someone having an interview. However, there were two people manning the table. My body stopped dead in its tracks before I could even have a conversation with my brain on if I should or shouldn't stop.

I read through some of their material and picked up their sheet announcing openings. In that instant the lady behind the table sparked a conversation with me. Turns out she is part of the HR department. I asked her were their any openings for a person like me who has more print experience than broadcast. I would be interested in working in the newsroom writing up the stories. Her exact response,

"Baby we got any kind of position you are looking for."

We talked a little more, I handed her my resume and few other items as we discussed a friend of hers that is head of a non-profit and in need of a writer. I even did the ultimate; name dropped my godsister who works for them in their newsroom; anything for a little edge. She lit up. She knew her. She pulled out a post-it, placed it on my resume and began taking notes. I breathed a little sigh of relief.

By the end of the day as I did a little reflection, I pondered over what exactly has the so-called recession done to the print journalism industry. Newspapers are shutting down or consolidating their staff/resources as there is this shift towards "new media;" really.. all electronic news. Once, my good friend Erin, who is a photojournalist, and I were having a discussion about such. I will never forget her comment.

"[the industry] is only dying if people in the industry aren't willing to change with it."

I thought about her statement in relation to what I had just experienced at the fair. I wondered how open is the industry towards people like me, with such broad experiences. Shouldn't the industry as a whole move to adapt to the change in the climate? One of the most enlightening experiences I had was back in April, when I visited the web operations of the Washington Post. There is a team of people, with a grouping of web design, technical invention, writing and overall creative talent that the publication allowed this team to morph and work together creating a new job (and maybe a new division) of the web version of the paper. I met the team and fell so completely in love with their work. I craved to be on such a team.

A las, going back to the fair, I was shut out with the out of state prestigious newspaper before I could even open my mouth about what I can offer. I figured, their loss and again, not my time to make a sudden move to another state right now anyways.  I also wondered was the whole thing about the job fair set up for those of us in the print journalism world to fail.  The bulk of the companies present were of marketing and public relations...selling. Maybe it's the present day enrollment of communication schools; maybe there are a higher number of students interested in the marketing, public relations medium. However, where does that leave us who are straight up journalist (broadcast and print)?  I actually overheard a young fellow journalism major describe his pre-scheduled interview as just "okay." He too was a little dismayed that the fair seemed to be bit more aimed at the marketing and public relations students. However, like me, he figured he would participate anyways because he didn't know where the opportunities of the day would lead.

As I'm getting older and facing the last days of my undergraduate studies, I can't help but to figure out how to step up my game. Competition is uber fierce. I've been proven this time and time again; even as recent as loosing a freelance bid with a local publication. Graduate school is still on my mind. Yet, I have so much to decipher being a single mother (of one). What is practical? What is economical? What is meant to be?

Lately I've been feeling fatigued, but trying to stay motivated. That's MY hardest challenge; not giving into the slightest fatigue. However, I don't want to become burnt out. It's my fear. I've been there and done that. Not a pretty place to be. Again, for me it's all about balance. Yet in my world, my balance can be easily thrown off with matters outside of school.   

A classmate of mine, who is an older lady that is also a former student returning, that hardly knows me, listened to me tell my thoughts on the job fair. Without blinking or missing a beat she said,

"I have complete and utter faith you will be fine. God has something out here for you. "

I usually feel weird when a stranger or a person who doesn't know me fully tells me something like this. It comes off as common rhetoric that has no value. But when that lady spoke those words I didn't feel as such. I found myself agreeing and believing. I guess that's step one of stepping up my game; actually believing.

Step 2?

Work.  

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It can be so easy to write a journal entry when things are sour. It's when I feel most compelled to pour everything out of my soul. My emotions are raw, but it's all out. Released. The end result is (sometimes) a better understanding of the situation or just a feeling of euphoria as feelings and thoughts are inked on record and out of my system. Yet, it's so rare that I actually take time to write about some of the fascinating or brighter spots. Even during the times that I do, I find myself tongue tied and my vox doesn't come out as raw or emotional as I like.

Noneoftheless, after weeks of neglecting my blog I'm finally finding some time to sit down, share and reflect on the latest happenings. What I'm glad to report is, I've been busy and bit happier than "normal." Even though the math class I've been made to repeat after not having algebra in my face for over 10 years has been challenging, but I'm trying to deal; tutor from the math lab and tutorial DVD that came with the text book. 

As for what has been going on I'll guess I'll start with....

Home....

Things are fine and calm at home. My schedule at school isn't a bad one, but the time and energy spent on my work is completely draining. Thank God for my mom, for taking care of the Snickerdoodle while I tend to school and other matters. Sometimes I feel guilty for not being able to give the Snickerdoodle my immediate attention, but I do realize it's not the end of the world. I try to squeeze in every ounce of mother/daughter time that I can when I come home, but a lot of times it's not that simple as I have an assignment that needs to be done immediately. I figure my daughter is only 2. She'll forgive me.

Trust me when I say, I do cherish dinner time, bath time and (sometimes) bedtime. Bedtime is the hardest, because she is soooo like me; a night owl. She hates it when she has to retire for the evening. She'll cry and maybe ridiculously scream. I get frustrated as I try to work and she is fighting sleep. Somehow I manage to calm down before it gets too crazy and realize this is just motherhood. EVERY mother has gone through this. So I deal. Reading a bedtime story or maybe lingering in her bed for a moment or two until she is calm enough to drift to sleep.  

My grandmother....

Since the passing of her husband in July, her life seems to be looking up. Her (pre) dementia hasn't been acting up as much. Though she still has glitches with her memory, she tries so hard to remember. She hasn't been depressed (as much). The only time she gets in a blue mood is when she allows unnecessary worries flood her thoughts. They are mainly concerns about the legalities of her late husband's estate. Some of the worry seems valid as his family wasn't the best of one. The attacks and betrayals against my grandmother were hurting to her, especially when she showed them nothing but love from the very beginning.

Nevertheless, my grandmother has been preparing to move from the late husband's house. While the estate is being worked on it's clear that his family is still trying to dig a hole for her, but in turn the hole will be for them. My grandmother is looking forward to the move and even got more excited the other day when she received a call that the house is just about ready and she can have a walk through next week.

I'm actually looking forward to helping on her moving day. This fresh start is something he truly needs. Maybe it will trickle down a bit into other parts of the family as well.

Freelance Project....

The launch of the magazine is less than a month. There is still much to be done including recruiting more writers. I get the feelings everything will fall into place, but I don't want this to fail. This is essentially a team effort and I don't want to fail in any way on my part. So what's left for me to do? Contact and respond to a few more interested writers, make an announcement on journalism sites, coordinate with other editor to have a budget (journalism term for story ideas/headlines/topics that will make in the publication) meeting and once stories are submitted, edit.  It seems simple, but everything will go so fast and hectic, especially the closer it is to launch time.

Yet I love it!

Papi...

Things between us are going soooo well. In the midst of our busy lives, we always find time to go out and have fun. Our latest venture was something on my part. I had two invites for this past Wednesday Congressional Black Caucus reception given by the city council at The Park on 14th. I invited Papi and course he had no idea what I had gotten him into. It was nice to get all dressed up to mix and mingle for a while. Actually we arrived a bit late, so we missed the small presentation, but he still he got to meet some of my political connects except for the biggest one of all....YA. The place was crowded... utter madness. We stayed for like an hour and some change, before we decided to go eat.

We finally made our way to Eatonville and I'm still raving about the shrimp and crawfish ettoufe. LOOOOOOVES IT!   

Church, School and Spirituality....

My pastor and I finally did get to talk about the newsletter he wants me to revive. He understood fully that my plate is basically full until December. We concluded we would follow up in December and prepare for a January (re) launch of the church's newsletter.

For the first time in a long while, I've been attending church on the regular. Actually, some of the spiritual lessons from church that I've been receiving I've been incorporating into thought from discussions I have in my creative writing class. I'm so glad I was able to get in another class taught by Tony Medina. Though, I'm the oldest one amongst my classmates, the discussions does make me pause for a moment and ponder amongst the banter between the 19, 20 and 21 year olds that are in the class.

Last week, a simple topic turned really heavy as we discussed an Albert Einstein quote - "Imagination is more valuable than knowledge."

We argued the points imagination verses knowledge and somehow ended up on Christianity. Actually I know how we ended up there, but that's a different journal entry altogether. Yet it perplexed me that within that same week I had a dream that stuck with me until I looked up the symbols that stood out the most.

The dream found me in Egypt where I was with a group lead by another professor of mine (in reality that particular professor takes a group of students to Egypt every year and last week he did mention next years trip in class). Somehow, I and two women who were roughly ten years older than me were drifting away from the group in a raft. The group noticed we were drifting and tried everything in vain to save us, but we were drifting away fast. What perplexed me was how we were surrounded by nothing but water, but I didn't have any fears. I knew we were going to be alright. The dream flipped to where we are being pulled to land, but we don't actually walk on land. We are in water, like in a pool. The water is very light blue and clear enough for me to see tiles at bottom and on the side of the pool. The tiles are white trimmed with gold.

People are talking/interviewing us, asking were we scared about being along at sea. I let the other two women talk about the incident, but someone asked me was I scared and I said no. The dream seems to flip again as folks, especially the people from whatever group I was with, were rushing back to their "hotel" rooms to change for a ceremony. I don't rush back, but what I find is, everyone is staying in this dormitory. Everyone has changed and rushes to this great hall that looks more like a cathedral sanctuary. I arrive to the ceremony and spot a couple of folks I knew from high school. I'm guessing I'm in the balcony section because I'm looking down and the ceremony has started and it's this formal protocol service for a king of some African nation.  

I looked up the symbols and began to put the puzzle together.

Egypt: Roots or core of your own emotion/spirituality. May also suggest a simpler time.

Raft drifting/floating: Unsure where you're headed to. Confused on purpose & direction in life.

White (the tiles): Purity, perfection, peace, innocence, dignity, cleanliness, awareness, new beginning. Also may indicate mourning/death.

Gold (the tiles): Wealth, riches, natural healing, illumination and/or spirituality.

Dorm: Value placed on knowledge and education. Believe that you are always learning, and not just in a classroom.

Ceremony: Sacrifice and devotion necessary for success. Maybe going through a crucial moment in life that requires commitment. It's a time for introspection, self discovery and inner changes.

Last night as I caught the rerun of Oprah's interview with rapper Jay-Z, one thing that stood out was how Oprah made the comment that neither of their paths of "fame and fortune" were something they foresaw. There was no clear vision for it all. Of course Jay agreed and pretty much said that it was all about the passion and hard work he was willing to put in to making music - which of course opened doors for his business to spread into the fashion, restaurant/club and sports industries.

Not to sound redundant or like plenty of others who have said this, but I absolutely believe I was not meant to be the so-called average or ordinary person - as I see it. However, the reality of finally being done with my undergraduate studies is drawing near and it's a bit scary, because again I feel as if I'm faced with I don't know where I'm going to land; which could explain the drifting away from the group on a raft. Yet, the interesting thing is I'm not as scared as I was when I left the federal government five years ago. I do feel some ease but what has me on edge are the journalism tasks I have before me.

Last semester was the ultimate boot camp I needed to refresh my skills. However, this current project, launching a NATIONAL publication, IS my ceremony. I feel this is the moment that will truly make or break me.  Even still, as I'm finding myself falling in love with journalism all over again I've been giving some serious thought about attending graduate school for it. Before my attitude has been that you really don't need a masters in journalism, since it has always been believed that everything about the field you learn, you learn by being hands on with it. However, the industry has changed sooooooooo much! A lot of old journalism standards are being chucked away to make room for "new media."

So with that.. it wouldn't hurt to have a masters... would it? I'm guessing this is why the dorm was in my dream and actually before the ceremony. Ah! Maybe it's my big hint that I should go to graduate school!

Though I'm into the journalism world, I also consider myself an artist as I do write creatively and have shared my work and been published. Yet, in some of what I write I see a constant struggle to write with a connection to my spirituality verses writing for the sake of writing.  When I write for the sake of it I loose focus, find myself imbalanced and uninterested.. which leads to droughts. I hate it in every sense because I feel lost. There have been times when I've been so connected that when after I had written something, reread it and have others look at it.. every immediate reaction has been a speechless or one word of utter shock.

It's a "Where did THAT come from moment?"

I haven't had that moment in a really long time and I yearn for it, because those are the moments when I feel so connected to God. I think in a lot of ways this creative writing class is helping me to get to the core of it all. After all, the assignment due for Tuesday is to write a writer's creed based on why I write. This, perhaps, is my Egypt; this time and space. This is helping me get to the core of my emotion and spirituality.

Yesterday while on my way to campus I played my Madonna "Ray of Light" cd. I forgot how much I loved that album, especially the song "Swim." Since having those dreams nearly a year ago about swimming, I've been comparing this part of my journey to swimming, immersing myself in all the untouched emotions I either brushed away or totally blocked to avoid some kind of hurt and just dealing with them and washing myself clean from them. For the most part I have, which why I can only believe there is a strong meaning behind the Egypt dream with me ending up in a clear bluish pool of water looking at the tiles on the bottom and the side.

In a way I do feel as if I represent both meaning of the white tiles. There is this sense of new awareness, but there is also this sense of mourning as a couple of folks I thought would be in this part of my life aren't. But it's okay. It's all about growth. The meaning behind the gold tiles is interesting. How deep will this richness go?

All I ask is that the Lord doesn't stop blessing me and sticking with me. May I stay focused and able see my work through

My spiritual journey has been one of highs and lows. Perhaps the reason it hasn't been a constant plane is out of my own stubborn and controlling ways to which I haven't given up my full trust and completely rely on my faith. There have been moments when I have just released myself, but more likely only after hitting rock bottom or out of my own hard headedness God has brought forth huge road blocks or signs to get my attention.

In regards to my writing, it has become evident and I'll admit, I haven't been using it to my full potential. Some time ago I realized I didn't want to be writing just for the sake of it; creative or journalism wise. I always wanted to use this gift for the benefit of the greater good. I believe it's time to "put the money where my mouth is" sorta speak. Since returning to school, I challenged myself to be a bit more disciplined in my journalism studies, regular studies and even in my creative writing. Last semester, through the rigorous finale of my journalism courses I stuck it out and saw the fruits of my labor. Not monetary wise, but in the satisfied looks and comments from my sources that I interviewed, my professor(s), my peers and myself.

Last semester knocked the wind out of me and I spent much of the summer on cruise control. While I did produced a few more [freelance] articles, I felt spent and needed to breathe for a moment. Maybe a moment too long, because by the start this semester I found myself hitting the ground running in finishing up these last courses for my minor - African American Studies - before being declared a graduate. However, not before the end of the summer one of my journalism professors [an editor of a major magazine] tapped me to join in on a [paid] project; launching a national publication that will be operated by and through the school. Of course I jumped on board, but only to feel a little lost over the summer in my duties, since we're starting from the ground up.

As school started two weeks ago, I met with the professor and another young lady on board for the project. We hashed out our ideas, discussed the foundation that started forming before the end of last semester and the next phase of moving things through. After the meeting I felt so energized and excited, but even still I have slacked [not intentionally] in getting my part done at the moment. My semester is chock-full of writing and reading. Not to mention, coming home to a two-year-old that loves your attention after haven't seen you all day long on two days of the week and half a day on the rest of the days. So I'm struggling a bit in finding a balance. Right now my brain feels a bit helter skelter.

Even in the midst of this, another call has been extended to me. God via my pastor is calling. Many moons ago - well maybe not that long ago - I worked on the "newsletter ministry" at my church. My pastor caught wind that I was in school for journalism and thought it would be a good idea for me to serve as editor of the newsletter. At the time I was only 20 and worked with a team of folks that were much older than me. In the end, some folks had issues with my decisions about certain things and though I tried to work with them it got nasty. Like - I'm sending you an email and CCing the pastor nasty. So I quit the ministry and the newsletter was defunct for a while. It was revived again sometime later but didn't last long.

Since the time I quit my mother has been on me about reviving the newsletter for the church. So nearly three weeks ago when she told me the pastor wanted me to call him about the newsletter, I thought it was another ploy my mother was pulling to make her thoughts known. Just in case, I did call the pastor, but not immediately though; try three days later. I know.. bad.

Nevertheless, I was faced with his voicemail inbox, so I left a message. A couple of days later my mother asked had I called. I told her I did and left a message. Her voice was laced with an urgent tone as she scrolled through her blackberry to pull up the pastor's cell number.

"He REALLY wants you on this. Call his cell. Don't call the church."

Without protest my mother's Blackberry was pressed up against my ear as my pastor's phone rang once and went to yet another voicemail greeting. I left another message. As that week's Sunday came upon me, I went to church. I went up for alter call and the pastor spotted me, leaned into me and pretty much affirmed that he did need to speak with me when I had a moment. The end of church was hectic with people all around and my daughter getting a bit fussy because it was near lunchtime. So I left before having the needed conversation with my pastor.

Today after church I went up to speak with pastor. Ironically today's sermon was about discipleship and going forth to spread/teach the word and message of God via however you are lead to do so, or moreso using the gifts/resources/talents/calling that God has bestowed upon you. I had already made up my mind that reviving the newsletter would have to wait until January, when I'm done with school for good. I mentioned this to my pastor today. He had a slight disappointed look, but then told me he was hoping to see something around November, but if he had to wait until January he would, because he didn't want to interrupt my school-work. I told him I would see what I could do. Just before I bid him a good rest of the day, he turned to me and told me that he really wanted me to work on this for the church.

So many times I hear talk about being obedient to the word... being obedient to God period. Part of me believes this isn't some random coincidence that projects are coming my way and even something pertaining to my church home. I do believe it's all about helping me further grow in this realm of writing and even as a person. However, when it came to my church I've been wrestling for the longest about feeling out of place. My church is the same church I grew up in. My parents were married there, I was dedicated and baptized there. I sang in the choir, been on many retreats, fellowshipped in many ways with my extended family - my church family. Still, at some point of my adult life I felt out of sorts or out of place and lost as times were changing inside the church and even with me.

My current spiritual journey has been one of baby steps, prayer and me trying to be disciplined with a lot of things. Which is why the other part of me is still the fearful me; me fearing failure - the insecure me that still creeps up. Now that I know in the past I wasn't [fully] ready with some of my journalistic/creative endeavors, I'm nervous. Unsure if this time I'm ready. Deep down I feel that I'm ready, but on the surface I still feel like such a novice.

A couple months ago I posted a status on Facebook mentioning how I felt like such a novice. It generated a few comments, one in particular came from Brandon.

"You're not a novice, but at the same time, you're always learning. When you get to a point where you think you know everything, that's when you don't flourish."

I feel it's time to flourish. So I guess it's time to be obedient. Learn through trial and error. After all, that's the only way to grow. Now if I can only completely kick these insecurities and fears of succeeding out of my life. *umph*

Today my heart cringed as the ultimate verbal assassination took place in front of me.

It was day two of the [final] semester. One class in particular, I've been thirsting for. You see, once upon a time, I took a poetry class taught by the infamous poet Tony Medina. It was during the spring 2005 semester, before I took my personal sabbatical from school. At the time I didn't know how much of a big deal Medina is until students who weren't even registered for the class broke their necks to sit in on a session to watch and listen. I loved every moment of that hour and 20 minute class. It was my time and space to sink into my Aquarius Abyss and pull out from depths unknown hidden words. I loved the books he had us read; a poetry book by Audre Lourde and another by Nikki Finney. He even shared some of his own published work, including the then newly anthology he co-edited "Def Jam Presents: Bumrush The Page."

I still recall the day an arrogant I'm-so-full-swag-I-can-spit-a-poem-in-two-seconds-and-serve-you dude dared to challenge Medina. Little did he know who he was dealing with and ended up being [respectfully] told off. It was also here where he talked about how old school poets like him and Nikki Giovanni will go to an open mic and will show respect by staying until the last poet has spoken.

As we "urban" folks say.. he dropped jewels.

Today he dropped more jewels as nearly eight of us wanted to know our fate for the Creative Writing Workshop class. It seems that since Medina's first days on Howard's campus, he's become very selective in who he allows to register for his classes. During registration, his classes are always listed as open, but are blocked, unless he authorizes. This is part of his process to see who is serious and who is just plan ol' bullshitting.

To start the process he went around the room asking us a few not-so-random things, but mainly what are some things we like to read. I watched his expression become a little perplexed and intrigued at the same time as two classmates expressed their not-so-fondness towards reading. Both mentioned they do read but one, however, claimed it would depend on whatever the literature is and if forced to read, she would, but other wise she wasn't enthused. The other said the ultimate as he expressed how reading is still pretty much "illegal" in his eyes because society still doesn't think it's cool to read. When Medina asked him to name a poet, his only response was Lauryn Hill. Granted "L-Boogie" can flow and drop knowledge on a whole slew of so-called rappers/hip-hop artists out here, but as Medina pointed how there is a sure fire guarantee that she's read something, she's studied someone. Medina asked the young fella has he heard of Sonia Sanchez.

Answer: no.

Shots fired!

Ears Ringing!

I heard a confused sigh released from another classmate. My own heart stopped and my guts, teeth..entire body cringed. Without warning, I didn't realize I was ready to rip into this 21 year old, until Medina beat me to it and I felt my body relax. Again Medina dropped jewels as he explained to the entire group, but mainly to the two non-enthused readers, that in order to become a good writer you have to read, study the art form, READ other writers & poets. He pretty much reiterated something he shared with the poetry class I took that '05 semester; when your thoughts are dry, go to the well. It's a lesson I NEVER forgot and ALWAYS carry with me.

The "Forced Reader" took offense and became somewhat defensive. Medina softened his tone a bit in order for her to see his point - it's pretty much a painter telling someone he paints but can't explain his craft. We spent the whole class time talking about the importance of reading, especially as it pertains to a writer or someone who aspires to write. At some point Medina felt compelled to share his experience when he fell in love with reading, which helped him realize he wanted to be a writer. He made the point that his home life growing up wasn't filled with books. It took a teacher from the 9th grade to almost fail him for not doing a book report for him to pick up a book - Flowers for Algernon - and read.  

As the discussion rolled on, I couldn't help but wonder what is with some of the folks in my generation who are younger than me and teeter on the borderline of being in someone else's generation. You would think, being on anyone's college campus that one would want to seek and even have a thirst for as much knowledge as possible that reading shouldn't even be a question nor a chore. Yet, in the past year since I've returned to campus I've notice something that kind of bothers me, that goes beyond taking a college education for granted. Intellectual laziness.

I noticed this last semester as I finished up my journalism courses and was pretty much in an intense, almost journalism boot camp world. It was only just a few years earlier, that our instructors expected and demand so much from us journalism students that we frequently gave 110 percent PLUS. Yet, during a time when I had to serve as an editor of one of the school run publications, I noticed how a lot of "reporters" were turning in regurgitated stories from other news sources (ugh!!) or opinionated pieces and not going deeper; like finding a new angle to a story while staying objective.

Granted the population of Howard is large (not sure of exact number), so I know not ALL of us are suffering from this sleepiness, but I have to ask of those that are feeling it, where is your quest for a challenge? Where has education "failed" you?

Then a general question: Why have we, descendants of slaves and civil rights children have taken EDUCATION, especially READING so lightly or for granted? As Medina pointed out, this sleepiness or laziness to read is generally across the board, but when it comes to US, the children of Linda Brent, Ella Baker, Frederick Douglass, W.E. B. Dubois.. and even from Sarah Bartmann you would think we would have a greater appreciation for it....

There are some of us who get it and some of us who don't.

Today, my heart actually bled for those that don't.  

Shots Fired.....

My well has become dry and I'm in need of a monsoon. Figertively and not literally. However, it has been raining off and on, non-stop literally as if DC has become the new Seattle. However, what I'm really talking about is my writing. I have these urgest to write, mostly in my blog, and few other times just creatively, but what can I say?

I have become a slave to my distractions.

Actually, what I eventually want to say on these virtual pages comes and goes. I'll start, but don't finish, or it's basically a fleeting thought. Though I love my Vox blog, I've grown uncomfortable within its space. Been this way for a long while.

I've been spending time trying to work on my "dot.com blog/site," but me doing a lot of the technical stuff the "self taught" way is a challenge and a bit frustrating, especially when you realize that the server you are trying to connect to can't communicate cause your system is delivering a non-workable IP Address.

I did manage to do some creative stuff. I recently submitted a short story for another anthology inclusion. To be exact, it was two shoter stories I wrote a few years ago. I basically morphed it into one story by deleting some things, editing a few lines and adding a bit more substance to link the two stories.

Journalistically I'm working on two things. One is an article on a underrated soul singer for an online music publication. The other for the news wire service with the topic of AIDS. Luckily there is no real deadline with this, as it has been a challenge to follow up with my sources. Still, I want to have this done as soon as possible, in a timely manner.

I was once told that it is a sad day when I decide to put down the pen. Well.. it's not that I put the pen down. My heart is in it, but my head.......

Today I received an interesting surprise.

Upon logging onto Twitter, one of my follows posted a link to the online magazine Clutch. The article talks about turning 30, from a woman's point of view. I found it to be fitting or right on time for me this morning. Since Howard's graduation on Mother's Day weekend, I've been feeling a bit weird. Aside from what has been going with my grandmother, I have also had time to think about graduation and how pratically I'm at the point where I can say "This is it!."

Granted I'm not really a graduate just yet. I still have one more semester to go. However, this year I avoided graduation again, but saw the aftermath in lew of pictures online from classmates.

(side note: I did learn that my name was called during a graduation exercise for the school of communications. However, it is believed that was a mix up and really another person with my name that was called but spelled differently)

In the past, graduations have always brought feelings of depression. I felt like I had failed, simply because I let another year go by without finishing my undergrad. Actually the year that Oprah spoke (2006?) was the first time I didn't avoid graduation since attending the school. Her message spoke volumns (as if she should be a minister) as she talked about being motivated and staying motivated in doing what God has called you to do. Basically.. act on your calling, don't just sit on it. 

I didn't feel depressed this year. The end of the semester felt bittersweet. I felt sad because I actually was going to miss the bonds I created in such a short time over the semester. Granted this class is younger than me, but when we all worked together and shared that same passion for journalism I truly felt at home.. at peace. So as I looked at their pictures as they were dressed in smiles and in their cap and gown I got to wondering about my own fate... destiny... my life.

So in a matter of months I will be 30. One of the things I'm most anxious about is finally finishing something that I set out to do many moons ago; school. By my advisor's calculations I can either finish in December and walk in May with the class of 2010, for finish completely (internship and all) by May and be a 2010 graduate. Either way, by or AT 30 I will be done with undergrad.  I try my best not to look back on the "what ifs," but that's a hard thing to do. I can sit here and say I was suppose to be this, this and that by 30, but I honestly believe there is a reason or a hidden agenda behind me being 29, a single mom, still in school and even still living at home with my parents for right now.

I love how the Clutch article was written, because it seems that it was me; a female struggling to gain her peice of the "pie" while living out her dreams and God's plan for her. As in her article she mentions that she isn't going to act as if she is all "zen-like-at-peace" with her struggles, but she understands that there is a reason for it and that 30, is the time to tighten up, take hold, walk through and deal. No excuses. 

Funny thing is, I use to feel like I'm such ahead of my time, especially age wise, but I think it has finally caught up with me.

I am 29 going on 30.

Yet I'm still wondering what's next for me.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Via Clutch Magazine.....

30 Rocks?

The so-called "senior-itis" decided to hit me this week. This week of all weeks where classes are ending on Thursday and I have a mountain of things to complete. Well not exactly a mountain, but enough to have me feeling coo-coo. Or perhaps nothing at all. Maybe my resistance to being overwhelmed has taken over. So much so that I practically don't want to do anything right now.

I have news articles to complete, but that's no biggie. My biggest "worry" has been with my Black Aesthetics class. Thankfully the research paper was knocked down to just a proposal. Cool beans right? Even cooler, the due date for it is the official end to the semester, May 6, in which grades for non-graduating folks have to be turned in. This Thursday two 7-10 page book reviews have to be completed for the same class. This is where my concentration is nonexistent.

It's not that I didn't read the books to do the review and answer the questions within the format. The problem is these books are heavily philosophical in attempting to understand African rationality on life through art and cultural practices. So to me the books were filled with over stuffed rhetoric to make one simple point, which means I'm combing through the language to find the central point/answer to the questions being asked.  My original goal was to have the two reviews completed by the end of the weekend. I attempted to start, even as far as today. I actually did start, but I couldn't stay focused.

I woke up this morning taking my time to get on campus. By the end of the day I was a bit freaked out because those damn book reviews still aren't complete. I figured once I have these reviews done, everything else is smooth sailing (cause it pretty much is). Still my mind wants to focus on the interview I'm conducting tomorrow at the Capitol, following up on internship potentials, possibly going to Baltimore on Saturday to see Kel and of course the family room furniture that is being delivered tomorrow so that means clearing out more space in the midst of the (minor) construction junk left behind.

Here it is 1:13 am.

I stopped my work to chit chat on my instant messenger and even pop a spice cake in the oven. As I was mixing the cake batter I said to myself....

"I'll ask for an extension. I have too much going on. The home renovations (what's left of it), the back to back news coverage I'm handling lately and plus the editing for the website. Dr. C will understand. I can turn in the reviews along with the proposal on the 6th."

And so this is what I have resigned my thinking to.

What a load off.

What's interesting...

A young lady sent me an email yesterday. She was suppose to have turned in her article by the deadline I had set, but missed it. Her email explained her missed deadline as she went into detail about how she suffered an anxiety attack and under a doctor's care, placed on bedrest. She further went into story ideas for the next issue and promising to submit a story ASAP. 

She could have been faking, but I doubt it. Her email didn't drip of lies. Feeling compelled my response to her was...

Hello "Student,"
 
First and foremost.. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE.. take care of yourself. Trust me, I've been there (anxiety attacks) a few times. It's probably nothing more than feeling overwhelmed. Please if you ever feel overwhelmed.. take a a break even if it is for a day or two to do absolutely nothing. Just anything to get your mind together and mentally back on track. It's hard.. believe me I know.. but it's truly a must do.
 
Second.. the last budget meeting for "news website" was last Tuesday. Being that this is the last working week of the semester I think whatever is due for today is it. Did you need to fulfill a story requirement for one of your classes? If so, you may have to speak to your professor, Professor "L" (who helps run "news website") or see "Department Chair."
 
Please let me know if there is anything I can do.

Yanno... mental health issues concerning black women, especially college age black women, are really near and dear to me. I really need to get on the ball and move forward with my quasi-proposed documentary. It's needed.

As for the young lady, she thanked me for my advice.

As for myself.. I'm taking it.

Hence the extension I need to ask for.  

Today was the day. To face the school's journalism department and a couple of outside guests. To discuss my journalism "career" since being in school.. or in my case... since my time in AND out of school. Silly and bit brave of me to volunteer myself first a few days before today's presentations. The pressure was on leading up to the moment. However, once I stood up and began talking I was on autopilot. 

Though I'm trying really hard not to let it bother me, this summer is making me a bit nervous.

I've spent much of the semester hustling for internship prospects for this summer. The scheme of things is "suppose" to work out like this; complete spring semester, internship this summer, complete last semester of school this fall, be declared "graduate" in December and walk/participate in graduation in May (2010). That's how my advisor and I had things worked out at the beginning of the semester.

Now it seems that world of internships, at least in the realm of magazines, is highly competitive. If not before, it's gotten extremely tight, allowing only a very small selective few in. My heart.. my heart... was set on the Washingtonian Magazine. It's one of my favorite reads. I practically study it. The internship boasts of writing small articles, research concentration and it pays. Though I revamped my resume, became creative with the cover letter, had my feature writing professor (editor of a national magazine) look it over and sent in my BEST clips displaying feature writing I was turned down via a generic email response.

"Thanks for your interest......overwhelming response.....unfortunately...."

I showed it to my feature writing professor who asked me to give her everything I mailed to them. She would send it to the editor personally. That was merely a month ago and still no (second) response. Since that time I've been applying to other publications, beating their deadline only to be served with the same response concerning overwhelming applicants and "unfortunately..."

I've been mulling over the option of writing a letter of interest to an editor with the Washington Post. Last summer I applied for a job with the Style section. The editor and I sent a couple of correspondence to each other when I didn't get the job. I asked what exactly was she looking for and she told me. Since then I've kept her email and lately I've been contemplating (a bit too hard) on what to say in regards to seeking an internship or even and apprenticeship under her.

Frustrating to say the least.

Of course what's making me a bit nervous is money. I would like to keep my reserves up while I have the chance. However freelancing seems a bit scary nowadays in this economy. I've been reading up on other freelancers via their blogs or published articles on the matter. So far it seems to be a 50/50 chance of survival. You either have it or you don't. It seems that well established freelancers can deal with this tight(er) economy than say.. someone like me... still starting out (or an inch or two above a starting point) and feeling their way.

I've been toying with the idea of even doing a part-time temp gig during the summer, to keep me busy (so I won't going totally insane as a stay-at-home-mom) and to help a bit financially.  

Either way, I feel something is out there for me this summer. I just don't know what. That's what is making me nervous and bit fustrated.

Gotta go feed the kid then.. on to Jill Scott's detective series on HBO.......

Maybe I should be giving Obama my full attention as he is giving his press conference. He's on my tube. He's in the background. I'm half listening and half writing, working. I should be watching for the simple fact that tonight could prove to be further interesting for a fellow journalism professional. I feel kinda funny mentioning her by name in my personal blog, but we had a rather interesting conversation today. She's based at my school and in a couple of weeks I will be working with her in producing a couple of stories for a national news wire service. I ran a couple of my ideas by her today to get her feedback; one including the black press core that is "housed" at the White House.

My interest was sparked after visiting Essence Magazine's website a day or two after the first Presidential press conference. I ran across a blog of one of the columnists on the site who described her experience as being part of the press attending a White House press conference. She "painted" a Cinderella story. Soon after, I learned that other black publications or publications that cater to the Black community were apart of the white house press. So naturally my curiosity radar was on alert as I worked on finding an angle. I had hoped to work out the details in time for it to be a black history article, but time was running short and I did something else.

When I mentioned this to (I'll call her..) Ms. Chestnut she immediately beamed. She is currently working on such a story, based on her experience during the first press conference. It seems that I missed an angle as I was (probably) working too hard and too quick to find one. Apparently there has been a little tiff with the black press verses Obama. It's something that when Ms. Chestnut did a quick online search on the topic it in front of me, Google immediately spit out the thousands of relevant search results. She clicked on a link whose headline read "Obama Snubs Black Press." She explained briefly to me what happened. Basically those representing black press organizations were seated in the front row, but didn't get to ask any questions.

Ms. Chestnut took offense and is mentioned in several publications, blogs (Including Huffington Post) with her quote.

When I came home I did the same online search and browsed a few of the articles and blogs on the topic. One blog put the black press organizations on blast saying that if their stories were accurate and not full of BS with out of context quotes, then maybe the White House would take them seriously. After reading that, I thought back to my conversation with Ms. Chestnut. During our talk she briefly told me there is a difference between those that are part of the White House press as they represent other news organizations and those that are sent there to just cover the press conference.

Another blog entry I came across, written by an African American, thought it was unfair for the black press to cry victim and even question if folks are that jaded to think that Obama should give special treatment to blacks. I kind of chuckled at that thought, because clearly that's not what it is about, at least not from Ms Chestnut's point of view. Ms. Chestnut represents a highly respected and credible news organization. All she wants is to be treated or given the same respect as any other "major mainstream" news media outlet is given at the White House.

Ms. Chestnut invited me to join her or help her with the story. I didn't say yes, but I didn't say no either. Actually she is waiting to see how things go tonight. If Obama will be more fair and show equal treatment to the black news organizations that are there. If not, she's ready to write. Will I help? It remains to be seen.