11 posts tagged “lifetime goals”

This is bad. Either I am really a slave to my distractions or I REALLY have ADD. It's the third week of school and I'm behind. Not really behind, but behind enough that if I procrastinate any longer I'll be in a hole. I'm worried that with this final semester I'm cramming too much. The schedule really isn't that bad considering I'm taking 19 credit hours. I just need to find some kind of balance in my "free" time.

I can easily blame motherhood, but that's only a partial blame - if you will. Currently the Snickerdoodle is sleep, and I've been having a hard time focusing on a task. A simple task that I had originally committed myself to completing last week. This is bad and I feel bad that I've acquired this acute "senioritis." I fight to push through it, but phsyically I'm wiped out. Between the walking up the [very] steep hill(s) on campus going from class to class, to coming home to attend to family matters and other side things I may need to take care of; i.e. running errands, I'm phsyically pooped and needing, wanting sleep.

Granted, it's not like I haven't done any work since school started, but it's just the minimum and slightly lower.

This is bad. It can't be like this.

A couple of weeks ago in church, I went to the alter laying my burden of school down before the Lord. All I asked was for help to keep me sane and strong to get through this last semester. So it is here, on this virtual page, that I ask the Lord to help keep me lifted and motivated. May I find peace and balance in this hectic semester.

I can not and WILL NOT go back to those early days of exhulstion and depression.

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*

So it's back to business with me this week. For real. I think when I gave myself the week off from doing any work, spring break or not, it set me back. So I'll be playing catch up and will probably have to do it double time since I'm planning to leave town next week for a week.

The weekend was busy as Saturday I did venture to Haymarket, Virginia to my cousin's housewarming. It was really no biggie to drive the hour outside of DC since I practically do it often when I travel to Leesburg, Virginia and back. Haymarket and Leesburg are kind of out there together. The housewarming was nice, even the Snickerdoodle got to play with a couple of cousins her age as they ran around. I won a picture frame from playing one of the games. Yay!

Of course I had to high tail it back to DC before it got too late. My objective was to get back on this end early so I could put the Snickerdoodle to bed and prepare for today's event. Today was the champagne jazz brunch that celebrated the tenth anniversary of the organization that my mother is a member of. The event was a success and I feel just as exhausted and happy that it's over as much as the planning committee members to. My mother was a part of the planning committee. From October until recent, their meetings were held here at the house. The Snickerdoodle's picture was taken with other kids to be posted on the tickets and even part of the souvenir journals. There were runs to Costco, the florist and other members' houses and even the nonstop phone calls that lasted well into the evening from other members needing tickets, calling with their questions to their part of the planning and etc. Oh and let's not forget the food tasting I went to in October for this. The food was delish then and still is now! Mimosas, waffles, omelette's, salmon, biscuits and more...oh my!

So now that it is over, there is a sense of calm. And I'm left to reflect and plan out my week just before United States of Tara comes on for tonight.

So lately, I've been caught up in this "It girl" phase. I don't know how to explain it. I feel like I need to up the ante on my appearance a bit. Not out of the want or need to be vain, but ... I don't know. For a while I've been describing myself as a quasi-socialite. I'm out there, but not out there. People know me and folks don't know me. To be honest, I'm probably still very much a peon in this fishbowl of life. Yet, in regards to my writing, I feel the need to push more and harder. I'm wanting and ready to make noise.

One way is actually going "dot com" with my word press blog; one blog that I haven't scribbled a syllable since I set up the account in September. Thankfully in my publications productions course we are suppose to be working on websites this week. Since I do have some cushion money I might as well use some of it to set up the account on a server that will allow me to go "dot com." Yet I get nervous when I think about. I think about if it is even worth the investment or just a waste of time. Then I think, since I want this to be strictly about writing, about projects, observations in the creative and journalism realm and perhaps some educational stuff that I learn in the life will I have enough juice to even write such? Basically my concern is.. how will it all turn out. I know deep down I NEED this, especially if I want to score some more freelance gigs journalistically and present my name creatively. Which leads me to another question...

Would I do it under my government name (by there way I already have a Caucasian name sake out here with a website that is also a writer.) or do I want to do it under my pseudo? How do people currently know me. Some know my government name. Some just know... Mahoganie.

Aside from trying to figure out this "dot com" life, I have to prepare for tomorrow evening's event at the Kennedy Center. The mayor's arts showcase shing dig. I'm covering it. I still have to post footage on my DC Voting Rights update. I just have the footage sitting in a holding cell on You Tube, until I further edit and perhaps add more too it. Also, I'm working on shadowing YA for a day to do an in depth profile on her. We briefly talked about it today during the brunch.  I'm holding my breath for that one. Me spending a day .. all day in the council chambers? Yet.. it seems fun and exciting.

Oh right .. and that research paper for black aesthetics class.... *sigh*

Aside from work and writing... I've made time for senseless stuff; such as.. trying to up my make up game. I don't wear much. Just foundation and lip gloss, but lately I've been working on my eyes. Nothing outdone. Just small steps. Damn shame it takes me to be damn near 30 to want to go further with make up. Also, I've been having fun with my latest download from ITunes.

Lady GaGa's album The Fame, has been my mood.. diva-ish music lately.

It started with the single "Just Dance" and then when Poker Face was released, I couldn't get enough. Granted, one review of The Fame I read called it a "live in the moment" type of album I was already hooked on the high energy dance tracks. I love music that makes me move and like the bold lyrics that Lady Gaga spews, I pretty much feel the same way right now. So yeah, I'm practically living the moment now.

Too bad her upcoming show at the 9:30 is sold out. *snapping fingers*

Signing Off to catch United States of Tara

- Mahoganie

Once upon a time spring break use to mean something to me. Now as I hear others talk about their plans, all I want to do is come home and veg out. Yet I can't. There's much work to be done. I still have a couple of stories to finish and post on the publication's website, including video footage I shot concerning DC Voting Rights. I also have plans to get a head start on my research paper for my Black Aesthetics class. The semester will be ending before I know it.

I won't even talk about the house. Though renovations continue, it's really in the finishing touches stage. There isn't much banging, drilling, cutting and building. It's more plastering and painting going on, as well as installing appliances and even light fixtures. Everyone is slowly starting the process of transition into their respective rooms. Actually the main thing we've been concentrating on is the kitchen area. We've unpacked the bulk of the kitchen, only to keep the essentials (still a lot), toss the rotted pans and pots away and off the rest to the mission for donations.

Tomorrow we're clearing space in the living room for the contractor to return to finish up in there. Because of the overflow of boxes stacked in there, it's going to be an all day process, which will cause us to miss out on funerals planned for tomorrow. I'm kind of relieved. I don't know why, but lately I'm finding out I just can handle funerals. I've been avoiding them like the plague lately. The last time I attended one was two years ago, when Mona lost her infant son to SIDS. He was only a few months younger than my Snickerdoodle. Maybe that did me in. Just too much.

Tomorrow my former coworker is burying her husband and my extended relative will be funeralized at my church. I've been split on attending the funeral for my extended relative. She's a childhood friend of my mother and I figured I would go to represent her and even show support for her friend's daughter... who is my friend. Really, I should go.. the more I think about it.

I won't even talk about the rest of this weekend as it's packed with birthday celebrations on Saturday and Sunday Papi and I are attending a show to see Estelle and Ryan Leslie. Good times are ahead!

I had a peculiar dream last night. It left me a bit baffled this morning when I pondered over it on my way to campus. It started with me prepping for a party, or even the club maybe. I was excited about going out because it had been a while since I really went to a place and just danced my butt off. I needed the release and to make it even more exciting I was in New York and (supposedly) heading to a popular "underground" club, where it was nothing but positive energy. Honestly in reality it has been a loooooooooooooooong time since I've attended such. I've been toying with the idea of hooking up with my friend Kel that's a promoter in Baltimore and attend her once a month events on the underground house scene. I miss that.

Anywho as the dream went on, I was on my way to the party when the Jefferson's Theme song kept repeating. No my TV wasn't on. I was sleep in total darkness. Back to the dream - When I got out of my ride, I was led inside a high rise building and had to walk through some kind of basement tunnel to get to the club.  I get to the party only for the attendants to tell me there wasn't much time left. It would be a matter of minutes before the club would shut down for the night but I could squeeze in the back to get my party on for whatever time was left. The thing was, the place was packed! Wall to wall people. There were no signs of anything shutting down. The music was pumping and everyone was dancing.

So I danced and danced. Sweated and danced. Having a good time. At some point the crowd began to slowly leave, though they didn't want to. Soon after, I slowed my dancing and eventually headed out. On my way out I met some folks I (guess I) knew. They offered me a ride to the NYC Port Authority so I could catch a bus back home. During the whole ride they are telling me how there are great opportunities there and I fit in just fine there. I looked at them with perplexion, because I couldn't understand why they were selling NYC to me. When we arrived at the Port Authority, I checked the schedule, nothing was leaving for DC until the next day.  I began to panic as I thought about the Snickerdoodle being left with my parents and how it would be inconsiderate of me to stay in NYC for an extra day. Just as I was beginning to panic, my cell rings and it's my father.

The dream ended when my father calmly asked what time would I be home. I lied and said 30 minutes.

When I woke up I felt strange. One, granted I want to hang out with Kel in Baltimore, why on earth was NYC registaring in my brain. Two, though I've toyed with the idea of taking on an internship this summer in NYC I haven't taken the thought seriously as there is so much to consider. Three, why were those folks in my dream so hard pressed to sell me NYC with colorful words like "vibrant" "alive" and "It's just like you!" My mindset about NYC has always been, I love it, but not to live. NYC is a playground to escape to from time to time. I've done my share of partying, shopping and seeing plays in NYC. But to live???? I don't know.

That would be funny. Just as my cousin "T" is making her transition from Brooklyn back to DC (she'll be done with F.I.T. in May) I would move to Brooklyn or somewhere in NYC.

Needless to say.. I'm too pooped right now to figure it all out.

Here's to a productive spring break.....

For a second time in a year, I have volunteered my time with a group of sixth grade boys in conducting a creative writing workshop. Last year's inaugural run of the program went so well that I couldn't pass up the opportunity to do it again. The objective of this program is to stimulate their creative side and tap into their skills while preparing them for the future; by having them think about what profession they would like to have as an adult (outside an athletic career). I'm not the only person to volunteer, as others from other industries come in and give their presentations/workshop. By the end of the program, the fellas would have a business card displaying their profession and products of what they created in the workshop to showcase their entrepreneurial skills; i.e. the creative writing component ends with the guys creating an anthology from all of the poems I have them write during my time with them. There is also a reading component where they are required a text that is chosen for them and they have a discussion about. Last year's book was Ben Carson's Gifted Hands. This year's pick, The Pact.

Initially, my gung ho-ness ran low the closer the time came. Last year I was free or open with my time. This year not so much. Time is so precious to me that I now I have to literally figure in sleep. I don't mind it. I'm loving this time of my life actually.

Nevertheless, I went ahead and pressed on with today's session. I made a commitment and I wanted to stick to it. To start, during the drive to the school I started to get a bit worried. I wondered if I would get a group of cooperative and well behaved (as well behaved as you can get for a sixth grader) as I did last year. Would the group be larger or smaller? Would there be a good mix like last year; Blacks, Latinos and a few Caucasians? When I entered the school, I was hit with a sense of familiarity. I felt at east once I saw familiar faces of last year; the school's principal, vice principal and the sixth grade teacher. 

Within moments I was in front of the class. My presenter had the boys introduce themselves. Immediately I went into action and the first boy.... young (Black) man-child half stood up, head bowed and kind of cocked to the side, a smug expression and a voice barely above a whisper. Abruptly I told him to stop. I approached him and in the most content tone asked him to step away from his desk, stand straight up, head held up and projected his voice. He reciprocated. He looked taller from his earlier slouched position. A shock to me. He spoke up. Then he smiled. He took his seat and smiled again.

For the rest of the introductions I made sure that each man-child stood tall and projected his voice. I'm proud that I have a good mix again this year; African, African-American, Latinos and my lone Caucasian who trips me out. My nervousness or worried sense fell away as I found my groove. At first I was unsure how I would start the session. Last year was pretty easy. I was well prepared with books from my own collection of poetry and some I checked out from the library. My only regret, as I see coming with this group, there wasn't enough time to get it all in. Yet this year was a challenge. My books are packed away due to the renovations at home and time snuck up on me so I didn't make it to the library. I did what I could from the internet and my own mind and called it a day. 

To get a feel for where the man-children were mentally with the word poetry or with their writing in general, I asked them how many of them write. All 20 something pairs of hands were raised. From there I had a brief discussion on poetry as it relates to music... mainly hip hop. I mixed in a conversation I had with last year's group about rap artists being rappers or poets. The wow factor began as I realized that while they were in tune to Lil Wayne, Jay-Z and (dare I say it..) Gucci Man, they couldn't really name a poet outside of music - other than the guy whom their school is name for. A few of them caught a peek of the book I was carrying, my Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein, and called out his name, but didn't know anything about Silverstein. And though they were in tuned to the world of hip hop, little did they know that Tupac Shakur had a book of poetry.

I read to them Tupac's poem "Ambition Over Adversity"

Take one's adversity
Learn from their misfortune
Learn from their pain
Believe in something
Believe in yourself
Turn adversity into ambition
Now blossom into wealth

I asked for them to tell me who they thought wrote it. Maybe out of being funny the bulk of them said Lil Wayne and someone mentioned Biggie. Then I told them the answer. As if rehearsed, in unison the whole group said "WHOA!"

Boy 1: "But isn't he dead?"

Boy 2 to classmate: "I told you he wasn't dead!"

I asked them to tell me what they thought was the poem was about. A brief discussion ensued and moments later I wrote four words on the board.

Win. Lose. Challenge. Believe.

I wanted them to write a poem using those four words and telling a time when they had given up on something or a time when they were told they couldn't do something but they pulled through and did it anyways. Some tried to get a little slick and say they never been challenged with anything, but I made them think a bit harder about it.

My second wow came as I had some of them come forward and share their poems. Just like with any group of kids, they were reluctant to share their thoughts aloud, but all it took was one student to get up and say his poem out loud and the rest were eager to share. As I listened to what these man-children wrote I did everything I could from crying. One boy told how no one around him believes in him, but he doesn't care because he believes in himself and that's all he needs. Another stood up and shared an experience in the third grade. His poem came off like spoken word. During his third grade year, he had not long been in America. He was failing all his classes and his teacher had pretty much given up hope, but he kept going and beat the odds that were set against him.

The poems went on like this. My reaction was set to stun. Sixth graders writing this profound and not really realizing it. As my time went on, I schooled them about Langston Hughes. I read Hughes' "I, Too" and asked for them to tell me who they thought wrote it. A shocker was they thought Kanye West wrote it!!! I had to tell them it wasn't any one in the music industry. No one could guess it. Eventually I broke it down and schooled them to a little bit of Langston Hughes.  

Before I knew it, my time with them had ended. I felt cheated, because I wanted them to write two more poems; a haiku and a bio-poem. The bio-poem was a hit last year as I had the group fill in the blanks to this format.

Line 1: First Name (write first name)

Line 2: Four traits (characteristics) that describe the person

Line 3: Relative ("Brother", "sister"," husband", "wife", "daughter", etc. ) of __________

Line 4: Lover of __________ ( list three things or people your love)

Line 5: Who feels __________ (list three items)

Line 6: Who needs __________ (list three items )

Line 7: Who fears __________ (list three items

Line 8: Who gives __________ (one item fully explained )

Line 9: Who would like to see __________ ( list one item)

Line 10: Resident of __________ (list city, state or country)

Line 11: Last Name

Despite that it was a Friday and the dismissal announcement had been made, I could tell that a lot of them didn't want to leave. They had their pens and pencils to the paper trying to squeeze out their thoughts. Yet, they couldn't miss their bus. The good news is unlike last year whereas I only had one day, I get to return for two more days to do the full workshop! The next time I'll see my man-children will be in three weeks.

I love hearing the positive feedback from the students and the faculty. Though still fairly new, the program for the boys has generated a lot of interest and motivation for the boys as they transition into their teen years and into junior high school. What does sadden me a bit is that I can't work with both the boys and the girls. Although the sixth grade girls are under the same program, their workshops have a different focus. The transition program for the girls is actually the first and has been around a bit longer. Since their initial start the objective was to focus more on self esteem issues and etiquette training with a reading component. However, this year their program took a slight turn as it is all about conflict/resolution which is PERFECT and ABSOLUTELY needed in this day in age amongst young females.

I wish I could sit in on their sessions a bit to get a glimpse into what the girls are thinking. I contribute my two cents though. A book hadn't been selected for the girls to read, because no one could come up with a title that deals with conflict/resolution for females around this age group. I brainstormed a bit and remembered I book I read when I was in the seventh grade. I couldn't remember the name to save my life. I just remembered the plot vaguely and remember how good of a book it was. All I could remember was; set in Harlem, NY. Girl moves to NY from the Islands. She's picked on a lot. She fights a lot and one girl she fights becomes her best friend. As they grow from elementary to jr high age/stages they grow into themselves and possibly apart. 

It finally came to me.

The Friends by Rosa Guy.

I LOVED this book. I still have it, but like everything else, it's packed away for the time being.

(I'll be so glad when these renovations are completely over!)

The book deals with females in their age group and there is a whole lot of conflict and resolution for them to dissect during their book discussion. The book has been ordered for the girls tonight and I'm itching to dig up my copy just to read it again for fun.

My mother has been hinting to me all evening that I missed my calling. She tells me she notices how I light up when I talk about working with the group of sixth graders and all the positive feedback about their writing and work with me. Naturally I dramatically sigh and roll my eyes upward at my mother's hint about me being a teacher. That is sooooo not my gift. Being a teacher and an administrator... that's my mother's calling and rightfully so. She's a natural born leader. Perfect fit. Me... though I love doing what I do for these children, I don't have the patience to deal with it as a profession, especially in broken school systems that are in place.

My mother's friend said it best when she told us that she feels that I would easily get bored sitting in a classroom and straight instructing the kids. So.. So.. SO.. SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO true! If I couldn't take it in the federal government, how could I take it in a school?

My mother's friend sits in as I conduct the writing workshop(s) and she picks up on a lot. Today she further concluded that I don't talk to them as if I'm a teacher. I play around with them but still command their respect. Don’t' know how I do it, but I (guess) I do. Also she noticed that if I were to teach I would be the kind to want to take the kids away from school, but that's not always so easy. Again. She was soooo right. Kids get restless staying indoors all the time. I think this is true for anyone. This is why during field trip time, kids get a kick out of trying to bust their butts getting permission slips signed and woe is the child whose parents told them no (for whatever reason) or completely forgot to give the slip to the parent(s) or bring it to school. It's not a good feeling to know that you were left out of the out of classroom fun. While the rest of your classmates have gone to the museum and may gripe about the short paper they will have to complete about the trip later, you are stuck in the principal's office clapping chalkboard erasers together to clean them.  

Whoever founded School Without Walls (a DC public school) was a genius. Classes are both in and OUTside of the school. A couple of folks I know graduated from there and loved it. In a way I wish I would have gone, but all in all, where I ended up was cool. I picked up valuable lessons and skills that were highly utilized when I started college. I actually had an advantage in some cases where my fellow classmates, coming from wherever, didn't; especially when it came to research papers! Thank Gawd for that senior year research project! Came in handy for college!

Though I'm sure that I wasn't meant to be a professional teacher, I don't mind taking some kind of time to encourage a child to shine. In some ways I always felt I should be hands on with youth. Many many many times I tried, but my own life was a sham so I didn’t follow through. How could I mentor to a vulnerable teen, when my own life was a wreck? Not a good look. Now that I have all this energy I'm ready.

I'm freaking out. About to cry tears of happiness and relief.

A few weeks ago, just at the start of school, I blogged about a dream I had. A dream in which my mother kept telling me that I needed to pay off some of my bills, but I kept telling her there wasn't enough money in my account. We sort of went back and forth about it (in the dream) for a while, before she finally gave me this strange look and said "ok." I remember when I blogged about it I spoke on my nervousness about (another) federal loan I took out for school.

In past semesters when I finally claimed financial independent status while enrolled at school, I took out loans only to be short changed and having to contribute to my tuition by any other financial means.  A lot of times things failed and didn't come through, leaving me stranded or scrabbling for "change" to complete a semester. Obviously this was added on stress to my life and my college "career" until I literally said "Fuck It," and took my hiatus.

Since the beginning of this semester I found it odd that I never recieved any communication from school concerning my financial aid; if my information had been recieved and what would I be awarded. I tried not to worry cause I figured it was out of my hands, but being the nervous ninny and control freak that I am I had to investigate. The second week into school I found that my aid information had been recieved but the school wanted me to fill out additional information before anything could be processed. Basically more income proof. I had a feeling what set the "alarm" off. In the past it was just me. Now obviously I have a little one to take care of and obviously claiming. Needless to say I completed what they asked of me and turned it immediately.

Meantime, my nervousness was being mixed in with frustration. I couldn't access the school's Blackboard system - a intergrated school networking site that allows students and teachers to commincate virtual as well as to post and received assignments and turn them in online. I wasn't "Validated" (because tuition hadn't been paid) to access Blackboard, which I absolutely need to receive my assignments and download and print out documents that my professors post daily. I kept trying and trying to log in, but I couldn't get in until... this past Saturday. I figured I must finally be validated. Thankfully I didn't miss much via Blackboard.

Even as I was able to log into Blackboard I didn't bother logging onto my student account info site. I was too nervious to see and learn that I just might be short changed again. Nevertheless, my curiousity got the best of me late last night. As I read my account info I found myself fixated on this figure that didn't look like a charge. It was sitting right next to the Pell Grant. I kept reading and re-reading to make sure I was reading correctly.  All of the tuition and fees seemed to have been paid for, but I wasn't understanding what this "charge" was sitting next to the amount of the Pell Grant that went into my account.

This morning I called student accounts only to have my dream confirmed. I'm due a refund. This time the government uped the ante on my Pell Grant, which allowed them to over pay my tuition and send the difference to me. I'm glowing. Lord knows I needed it at this time. Granted it's not a lot, but if I plan and budget the right way it could last throughout the semester.

This is just added momentum and confirmation, that yes.... it's time for me to finish school! No Bull Shitting for real this time.

Yes I've said my "thank yous" to the Lord, but obviously I'm not done.

Excuse me while I go sit and and cry my tears of relief.

I should be sleep at this hour, but obviously I'm not. I can't. I probably will be a bit grouchy tomorrow as I have to get up early. Another funeral for another cousin. Wow, come to think of it this is how last January started - a funeral for a cousin. A majority of my being doesn't want to go. I'm realizing that as I get older I don't like funerals too much. But I know I must. There is a small portion of me curious and excited enough to see a few of my cousins (that are or around my age) I haven't see since we were kids... literally, especially Kelly. Kelly is my age. We basically grew up together. Somewhere along the line we weren't growing together anymore due to her many hospitalizations. She suffered with tumors for much of her childhood. I believe it was leukemia. I would always get updates on her, especially during our teenage years. For a time she moved to California to live with her aunts from her mother side of the family. She eventually came back to the DC area, living a well life even though a small reminder of her childhood illness lingers, her lips. I would love to see her. I would love for her to see the Snickerdoodle. I actually miss my cousin. 

Speaking of the Snickerdoodle, I love her dearly but today I felt a bit tested. My patience. Today, or yesterday rather, was a long day. Initially I wanted to join my parents as they went to the convention center to support YA. Newly elected and re-elected council members were sworn in today, as well as other elected officials in various DC government and neighborhood positions. Instead I had to be on "grandma duty." She had a much needed eye doctor appointment and of course I made sure she kept it. What I didn't expect was sitting in the doctors office for four to five hours.  With the Snickerdoodle in tow, naturally she became restless and even wanted to run around and play in the office. I had to keep her in check, which wasn't an easy task.

She grew weary of the supply of animal cookies, milk and juice I had in my bag. The biggest meal she had was breakfast before we left home and by the time 4:30 came around I knew she was ready for some REAL FOOD. She whined, TRIED to through a fit and was just doing all the fidgety movements toddlers do when they are restless. I kept it together until we finally made it back home close to six o'clock. I figured she was hungry so I fixed her a bowl of the black eyed peas we had for New Years dinner (a traditional good luck dish for New Years). At first she was refusing to eat, even tried to turn the bowl over on the table. Myself had been starving. I hadn't eaten the entire day. I was headachy, frustrated, tired....spent. I almost burst into tears on the spot.

I fixed me a bowl of rice and black eyed peas. Left the Snickerdoodle in her high chair. Found me a quiet corner and ate.  I got back up, poured what she didn't eat into my bowl and began to eat some her share. I went in for another spoonful and placed it towards her mouth. FINALLY she ate!

I was calm....until.....

Later this evening I began to think about school. Classes literally start this week coming up! Am I really ready this time? Suddenly I felt panicked... a bit freaked out. I'm not really surprised by this actually. It's almost as if I'm waiting for the bottom to drop... again. I'm freaked that I may be consumed with the feeling of being overwhelmed again. I'm freaked that the federal loan may not cover everything and I'm not sure how much I'm expected to "contribute" to my tuition. I'm freaked because in the midst of this renovation mess I don't know which box has all my important documents, especially the folder I kept for school that has a listing of all the classes I've taken thus far and how many credits I really have left. I know.. I'm seeing the advisor on Monday, but still... I haven't registered my classes yet!!!

I actually had an interesting dream last night. My mom and I were talking about money. She was telling me that I should take X amount of money to pay off some of my "little" bills, but I was a bit upset because I had no money. I was telling her there wasn't any money in my account to pay for anything. She kept pushing me to pay bills and I was telling her I had no money. After about the fourth time of telling her I had no money, she looked at me kind of strange and calmly said "oh."

Then I woke up.

I'm not sure what that was about. Immediately I thought it had something to do with my conversation with cousin T yesterday in reference to the mortgage payments of the condo(s). Part of her reasoning for believing I should have followed through with things was because a number of the units still aren't ready and (of course) mortgage payments don't start until you actually move in. Then I left that thought and began to think about school and began to worry how many books would I have to purchase this semester.

Maybe a financial blessing is coming my way, but I'm too blind right now to see it.. feel it... believe it. I'm trying to regain my optimistic self. I miss that person. Yet my reality seems to only want to show me what's real in the here and now.

Right now.. my reality is... it's after 1 am. I need sleep.

Ever feel like at the time you gave up something it felt like it was for the best. Yet there is still a small ounce of remorse left after all is said and done?

Ironic.

Cousin "T" is in transition from returning to DC from her life in New York. She's right on schedule to graduate from F.I.T. in May but has been making moves in coming back home to live. A few weeks ago I learned that she purchased a condo. My heart was torn about the news. While I was happy for her, the more I learned about where she was living I began to realize it was the same opportunity I had given up a year ago.

City Vista are newly developed condos built along the edge of Chinatown. Equiped with a grocery store, a cleaners, a bank, a gym, and few other local hot spots and restaurants and rooftop terrance/pool area, it's a city person's dream, especially since it's in the mix of downtown living. As the complex was being built I entered a lottery. The units available through the lottery were set aside as affordable housing and of course based on an income scale. I entered into the lottery right around the time but just before I found out I was pregnant. A year later, a few months after I had The Snickerdoodle, I received a letter in the mail. I had been picked from the lottery to own one of the condos.

With no steady job and being a new mom, at the time I figured there was no way I could afford to pay on a mortage plus condo fees and of course a parking space in the garage. So I turned it down. I let it go. It hurt (a bit) to let it go, because it was part of my dream or my goal..my emancipation from this house. Still I would have had to figure in new furniture for two and other expenses. I just wasn't ready.

When I heard the news about "T" I wanted to call her immediately and contgradulate her, but my heart hurt. I felt bad that I couldn't be fully happy with "T's" new home because of that ping of jealously. Sure I tried to play it off and do the whole Erykah Badu thing...yanno claim that my eyes were green because I eat a lot of vegetables. Still I didn't want to call her and fake the happiness. I wanted it to be real. So I waited.

As 2008 faded away I let all of that emotional gunk I had been dealing with since November roll away with it, including that stupid green eye thing. So today when I got the invite to ride along with my cousin to T's new place I wasted no time in getting ready and hopped into the ride. 

Her two bedroom is lovely and quaint. Though not fully furnished, she pretty much has her bedroom in place and the walls throughout are painted (this pretty brown shade. Chestnut? and this lovely green in one area). My (sincere) happiness for her oozed as I washed her gush with excitement of embarking on something new and moving around her kitchen being a natural hostess to the rest of the family that had gathered tonight. She even took us on a tour of the 12th floor where the rooftop terrace is located.

We even had the opportunity to talk about my missed opportunity with Cita Vista. Of course she believes that I should have went ahead and followed through with the lottery winning and for what she was saying I could have been missing out on a blessing. Yet when I thought about it I figured it probably would have caused another big financial mess for me when I clearly wasn't ready. Besides, I think what mainly scared me off from the opportunity was the fragile housing market and how people were getting taken with the "creative financing" gimmick that was going around. I always figured that if I wanted to own a home I wanted it the old fashion way of having a FIXED mortage.

Also, when I think more if it, I think I wasn't jealous so much of T's residence, being a place where I once wanted to live. I think it was more of an add of to things that I had noticed. That being, how people in my life are/were progressing and that latter part of 2008 caught me in a runt, stuck, angry and mad. I actually mentioned this to Ms. C when I had my little meltdown. I felt bad because I wanted to be happy for people in my life and their progress but I couldn't be because I was just in an iky place.

So tonight as I celebrated the new year with family, I felt good. Good because T is back home, even though she still has to go back and forth to New York to take her left over classes until graduation. Good because I feel that iky-ness is passing over. Good because I can still have my piece of the urban pie, I just have to take the long route in getting there. Needless to say, when I am ready I'm aiming for a house. Capitol Hill has been my goal for a long while. It's residential, yet urban with good schools nearby, on the edge of downtown, but has it's own hot spots and I love the energy in and around Eastern Market.

Still.... we shall see.

Where I currently reside isn't bad. It's DC but sometimes it feels like the forgotten portion. It's always been an ambition of mine to move closer to the "nerve" of the city. It kind of sucks when you do live East of the Anacostia River and need a cab to get home. Plenty of times cab drivers had refused to take me home after a late night of partying in Adams Morgan, Georgetown or visiting friends that lived uptown. You know it's bad anytime you try to convince the cab driver that you live in a good part of SE. The only way I would make it home if I ended up with an old black man that grew in DC or a young black guy that probaby was packing and wasn't afraid to come into SE. If I couldn't neither one, I had to catch the train and still walk six to ten block home.

Thank God that I have a car now.   

Lavender Bra

Today I did something that I haven't done since....last Mother's Day? I did it. I conquered all my past anxiety about being absent from the church pew. For so long I've been saying how I do want to return to my church, but always found it difficult for some reason or another. Around the time I stopped, I was total mess and some of it came from what I was dealing with in my church home. Each time I went back some kind of anxiety would hit me.

Shortness of breath.

A sudden fear.

A sudden sickness from within.

Today, I'm proud to say there were no problems. I rolled my car into the parking lot and strutted up to the church in my heels with diaper bag, baby and purse all on the shoulder. However, I was a teeny bit on edge because I did not know how Taylor would behave in such a large live and loud setting.

(side note: I grew up in a Baptist church and my church is anything but "reserve." Talk about catching the Holy Ghost...)

Taylor did an excellent job! She was quiet the whole time. No fussing or cranky disposition. I figured a lot of it had to do with he fact the neither of us slept real soundly last night. Because of her long nap yesterday and napping again off and on while we were out, by nightfall she wasn't all that tired. She did her usual cat naps and would wake up in between crying and screaming. I placed her in her crib the whole time, while I tried to get sleep of my own.  However, that failed. By five in the morning I was taking her out the crib and placing her in bed next to me. We dozed off with ease, but only to wake up around eight to prepare for church.

In the midst of getting dressed, I did noticed how she stared at me..mainly my boobs.  I think the color of my bra caught her off gaurd. Normally she is use to seeing me in the standard white or black bra. Maybe she will even see me in pink, baby blue or tourqious, but lavender? Maybe my breasts looked totally different to her in that bra, but she stared at them for a long while. I really don't know what that is about.

Of course when we made it to church we were a little late. So I had to sit in those dreaded folding chairs that are placed in the aisle when there it is crowded in the church pews. 

(insert yahoo nervous face right HERE!)

I was front and center. The usher used her had gesture to point me in the direction of the folding chairs. The choir was in the midst of singing a selection. The pastor, first lady and the associate ministers were already on the pulpit.

Picture the scene from (the movie) The Color Purple when Shug Avery came in through the church doors singing her solo as the choir was singing and the congregation was in heavy worship. However, take away the crowd that followed Shug from the juke joint into the church. Place a newborn baby in Shug's arms, place glasses on her face, tone her make up down a little and voila....you have ME!

Needless to say, I enjoyed service this morning. I shedded my tears in the name of the spirit, counted my blessings, and listened to the pastor preach about Hannah from 1 Samuel.  Even though it maybe a bit cliche to speak about Hannah's situation on Mother's day; how she was barren and couldn't/wouldn't "perform" for her husband. Then in turn he got another woman pregnant and the woman was living in their house. I think there was a hidden message for me in regards to how Hannah handled her situation.

For the past week or so, I have been feeling salty towards Taylor's father for one reason or another. Maybe I am still stuck in the past about how our relationship went down. I admit that. I admit that I'm having trouble trying to move away from that, because in the midst of me still being stuck, I have become bitter in a way. My bitterness is titering along the lines of hate and I don't want that. I just wish that I could understand why I have such a bad taste in my mouth when it comes to him. I have NEVER HATED anyone in my life. Even if someone did me wrong, I've always been able to move forward.  Not this time. Not with him.

My pastor preached a lot about how Hannah kept her faith and never became bitter about her situation. It's one of those situations where it's really bad, especially when the devil is living in your house, but when you remain steadfast in the faith something beautiful will come out a bad situation. In thinking about Hannah I had to think about some of the simularities between her and I. Even though I was never pronouced barren, my chances of having a child didn't look so good. My body is so out of whack.  It does it's own thing. Originally, I was told that if I wanted to have kids I would have to go on the fertility pill. At that time no one looked into Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome - which is a condition I thought I had just before finding out I was pregnant-in fact I was being tested for this. At 20, after speaking with my OBGYN about a few things, we came to the conclusion that I might have Secondary Amenia. Nevertheless, my body did its own thing and performed a wonderful miracle.

At the thought of Hannah, despite her "dysfucntion" God performed a miracle of His own and bless Hannah with a child. As the preacher preached, I couldn't help but to look at Taylor as she was in her content state. Once again the water works started to flow. I can only imagine what God has instore for the both of us. It scares me sometime when I think about the future, or even see it in my dreams. From past exerience, sometimes what I dream about does come to past or it just serves as some cryptic, abstract warning to something to come.

What's funny is, yesterday I caught the televised commencement ceremony for Howard University. I felt a little upset that 1) I still have one semester to go with Howard before receiving my degree in journalism and 2) how I wished I was there on that lawn taking part of graduation, especially since Oprah was the keynote speaker. I cried through Oprah's message as well as she talked about going for your calling in life. She delivered it with such eloquance I can't even describe it. It was almost like she was preaching. Just like with today's sermon, I felt like I needed to hear Oprah's message as well. My inspiration has been a little down and I feel so out of sorts with everything concerning my writing. Then sometimes I question.. is writing what I AM SUPPOSE TO BE DOING?

But it's all that I think about!!!

Then she made a very good and valid point about achieving or obtaining that calling in life. She mentioned how some folks won't be as lucky to go right from school into the field of their dreams and pursue their life long dream. Those folks will have to take a job or go through something they don't want to take or go through just to get where they want to go. I thought about the Federal goverment job I left just to go out and pursue what I feel like I am destined to. Then I thought about the job with Mr. Yellow. How I did work hard for almost nothing only because it was in my field and wanted to build up my portfolio a little more. I thought about the ending result to that job situation with Mr. Yellow. I thought about the frustrations I'm feeling now in searching for a new job and even finding too much pride in myself to lower my work standards back to the administrative level, because I know what I can do. I even thought about Oprah's own humble beginnings. She too had left college to take a job in Baltimore as a news anchor. She too felt the wrath of unappreciative bosses and felt the pinch when they knocked her down to "just a talk show host" in order to push her off the air. Little did they know, the Black chic they called "Too Black. Too Bold and Too Fat" would be the success she is today

This is why I respect Oprah so much. I see bits of myself in her. I left college, with plans to return soon. For the record Oprah did go back to get her degree from Tennessee State University. Of course the obvious evidence of how she is also in the communiations field is another reason why I can identify. Also, the fact that she constantly gives so much is something that I long to be in a position to do. As Nisha and I continue to make the necessary strides in making sure the publishing company can stand on all legs, our ultimate goal is to have a non-profit along side in which we have literary workshops for high school students and adults. We want to set up a program for those with difficulty reading and writing, and much more.

I guess the connection I'm trying to make between the story of Hannah and Oprah's message is...1) everything in life obivously does happen for a reason. Why Taylor came into my life when she did, I probably will never know. 2) Because you may be faced with a stumbling block you should hold fast to your faith and your passion. If it is meant for you, it will come to you.

True, I'm only shy a couple of years from being 30, but I feel like I'm in a race most of the time. I don't know what im racing for, but I guess it's just me wanting to accomplish so much in so little time. In midst of it all, I'm hit with distractions or outside noise. My problem... when do I turn off the noise?

The noise...sometimes it's hard to shut off...especially when you are nosey like me.

The original plan called for my retired parents, mainly my mother, to watch Taylor once I started back at work. I may have to revisit that plan. I was hit with a bombshell this evening. Well, not so much that I didn't see things coming, but what was surprising was what my mother asked of me.

"I was thinking you could stay home until September before going back to work. We'll take care of you until then."

Why is she asking me to stay home until September? Well, I figured things would go this way once YA won her seat on the city council. She wants to keep my parents on her staff, but the details of everything are a bit sketchy. She hasn't been sworn in yet. That won't take place for another week. Once she is sworn in, she'll receive a review of her budget and she will figure who she can afford to keep on staff and who she has to cut loose. Also, my folks have two major trips scheduled this summer. In June they are driving to Arizona for a conference and in August is the trip to Myrtle Beach, SC in which I haven't decided if I'm tagging along or not. So my mother thought it would be best for me to wait out things until September, when they officially know about their fate about being a part of YA's key staff and with the travel plans already in place.

My heart broke and I was on the verge of tears at the sound of that thought. Anyone receiving this offer from their parent(s) would be estatic and perhaps jumping right on board with the idea..no questions asked. Me on the other won't allow it. Why?

NOT WORKING IS NOT AN OPTION TO ME!!!!

For one, not working or generating a steady income.. or any income for that matter disturbs me. I don't like to be sitting around on my "Glu-de-mus-max-see-mus" doing "Jackboogie" Believe it or not.. I like to work, especially when it is in my field. Is it bad to see work as a mini vacation from home? Yet, I don't live for work...or try not to. I was partically used in my Federal gov't job, by going over and beyond with no great appreciation in the end. What possesed me to let my boos talk me into coming in on weekends and staying late a majority of the time? Well... maybe the benefits came out in my performance review every year, but it wasn't like a big whoop about it. Damn near the whole agency received the 500 score (highest score on a performance review), with the option to take 20 or 40 hrs of time off or a certain percentage of your base salary. As you can guess I took the money and ran.

Other reasons why I cannot be out of work - I probably could claim unemployemnt, but I doubt the pay would be that great since this job/project with Ghettoville, USA is a laughing stock. Besides I still have my little bills to pay including a new payment I added today - I'll get to this in a little bit. I know me and just because I had a baby doesn't mean I'm going to stop being the individual I was before Taylor. So yes, I'm going to want to spoil myself with mini spa treatments, I'm going to want to go shopping, especially for shoes and I'm going to go out with friends to sporting events, concerts, lounges for a drink or two, dinner... the works!

(side note: my friend LAF called me this weekend from a bar that we would frequent. Though I don't have no real desire to continue to go there, especially since a lot has changed with that place, I do miss the bartender "G." He made me the best damn Zombies and Lemon Drops ever! Amazingly I still remember those stay out and end the nighters with LAF and we end the night at TS until 3 or 4 am - umm yeah the place would still be crowded until about that time. )

My "play" life doesn't stop just because Taylor is on the scene. I love my snickerdoodle to death, but Mommies need playtime too.

On the other hand, if I stay home I could drive deeper in my freelancing. I'm already begining to draw up pitching letters to a couple of magazines about a couple of stories. This could be my golden opportunity...again. Even still, freelancing still isn't steady and there is no gaurentee that a publication will pick up your article unless you are the absolute best and on point in your pitch letter.

(reminder to self: BE OPTIMISTIC!)

I pass by the office of The Afro Newspaper frequently. I've been so tempted to just bust through the door with my portfolio and resume and yell HIRE ME!!!! I still may do that However, straight reporting for a newspaper doesn't pay a whole lot, but it's worth a shot. I guess I'm being greedy again. Now that I had a taste of being an editor for a magazine I want to go back to that status.

(reminder to self: take is sllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllloooooooooooooooooooooow grasshopper)

I guess another reason why I won't take my mother's offer is because I feel my parents have taken care of me long enough. I don't want to revert back to that. It's time to take care of them and I feel bad that I can't do all I want to for them, especially my mother. She's been through so much...her mini stroke.. dealing with high blood pressure and diabetes and yet she presses on. I appreciate everything she is doing in helping me with Taylor. I believe this is the closest I've ever felt to my mother!

(moment to allow tears to flow)

As for the added bill I mentioned earlier....well i'm finally starting my student loan payments. A lady had been calling the house for me for the past two weeks, but because I saw the 800 number I dodged the call. I knew it was a bill collector. However, today I was hit with the okie doke and ended up taking to the lady. She was a rep from this financial company that is hooked up with the Dept of Education. The way she rambled off my financial history to me, including telling me that I was a freelance journalist was scary. She sounded like someone more from the FBI or CIA than from some financial company with the Dept. of Ed. however, I understand... "they" track you with that damn social security number.

Curse the person that came up with such a tracking device.

As we talked, she told me that I wasn't in bad fnancial shape at all. I only have three things on my credit report - an unpaid balance from Capitol One, Verizon wireless and my student loans. The only thing really bringing my score down is that student loan balance - like a figured. I'm guessing this phone call was the push I needed to initiate the change in my credit from somewhat bad to excellent. With the payment plan program I'll be able to pay well over more than half of the loan debt within 11 months. The lady and I also talked about my chances in buying a home within one or two years, providing I pay Cap. One and Verizon off (which are no biggies) and in the progress of paying off the loan. my conversation with her was so enlightening. I felt so encouraged.

Maybe there is a reason why I'm still looking at houses after all.

Maybe I will be a homeowner sooner than I think and Taylor will have more room for her clothes.....

Now, see why I cannot be out of work?  I have things to do and a child to take care of.