10 posts tagged “school”

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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

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.

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. 

I'm in the thick of things but I still feel like I'm moving at a snails pace. I do have a challenge set before me, actually it started at the beginning of the semester. It's the whole step up my journalism game challenge. All I can say at this point, this particular time is one helluva time for me to return to school. I mean this in a good way in regards to perfecting my professional craft.

Some of my classmates and I received an interesting and unexpected lecture on Thursday. Our regular professor was away at a conference and so someone else on staff stepped up to the plate that day. One thing about this particular class is that it is structured like an actual newsroom setting, atmosphere and all. So the class is treated as such as we have budget meetings or meetings where we discuss each other's topics/stories that will be in the next issue/edition/posting of the (online) publication connected to the class.  We were in the midst of having a budget meeting when the "moderator" began to interject with his thoughts. The conversation spinned in a very interesting and yet valid way.

In so many words he warned us that in today's world it's no longer - from the standpoint of a broadcast communications person - about going to school with a tunnel vision view or wanting to work on one skill and perfecting that skill. Now days, in the journalism realm, the journalist's is expected to an all-in-one package. The person has to be the writer, producer, editor, photographer, web designer and whatever else until the journalism sun. Of course I noticed this as I was hunting for a job. A few times I came across an ad looking for a straight up and down writer/editor with the job description say as such. Majority of the time companies were looking for more than just a writer and print editor. They wanted someone with just as much web design experience and even some field editing (broadcast) experience to mix in. Whatever the case, it was always something a little extra than what I had to offer, which cost me plenty opportunities.

Our moderator stressed the importance that we must know everything there is possibility to know about our subject and that we can't half step. Not only are we suppose to be curious through our nature, but we have to be complete know it alls. I got a little tickled when it mentioned the "know it all" point, especially the point he made about people don't necessarily have to like you socially because of this, but they will respect you professionally and take you seriously when you present nothing but facts. So many times I've noticed when people are turned off by, not so much an opinionated person, but one with all the facts to back it up. Yet the flip side has been, the person that is turned off usually comes away with "they had a point though."

The curriculum at the school of communications hasn't changed much, but it has evolved so that we, the students, can not only work on our craft but receive a feel for other tasks. Technology has been a good advantage and perhaps a disadvantage. As our moderator talked more about his experience in the broadcast realm, it became clear that jobs are easily phased out in a blink of an eye because of how advanced technology is becoming. Listening to him explain it, cameras are pretty much becoming self sufficient and even much more concise as far as clarity in a shot.

The most intriguing thing to me was his take on the economy. Too often have I read where some news organization has cut jobs left and right, even the most well established had to do such; the Washington Post, Time Warner, etc. As for the well established journalists themselves, it is just how the moderator put it; they are so well at what they do, their companies want them, but can't afford them. So many are doing what some have been doing in the first place, side gig as an educator, teaching the "craft" at colleges and universities. With us, "The new breed," that's trickling into the field, companies want us because we are the young fresh and new. We (supposedly) have all these other talents, skills and experiences that match up to this technologically advanced and economically challenged world. So in our moderator's eyes, this is the most unique and perhaps the best time for us to be in this field.

With all that said, I walked away from that class, with a dull headache from digesting all of what the moderator had to say, also with the realization that what he said was very real and very true. I ended up having to do a mental count of stories I've completed thus far and what I had coming up on the plate. I was actually on schedule and more on time than I thought, but with this week I feel a minor set back. I'm working on two stories, with a third one I just had in mind to do today. The two I'm suppose to be working on should be slated for this week's deadline, but it's not nearly ready. What is shaping out for today will be ready and available much quicker.

So it looks like a rearrangement of stories is coming on.

Speaking of reporting on stories, the idea or topic that came to me today was prompted by attending a meeting. Today I took part in another community meeting in which DC. Delegate Eleanor Holmes-Norton came to speak. To start, I received kudos for the inauguration story I wrote, from people I knew and DIDN'T know. The nervous or freaky thing is I'm beginning to wonder how much of my (government) name (no one really knows me by Mahoganie, except for the creative/fiction and online world) is actually out there in my community... in my city.

I was introduced to a couple of people and one person stopped me dead in my tracks. When I extended my hand for them to shake, the person pulled me in closer and said the dreaded words,

"I've heard plenty about you."

This is the third or fourth person within this circle of well connected DC folks that has told this to me.  Not that I'm nervous about anything in my life. I'm pretty much an open book, but I am curious as to what these folks know. The obvious is whose daughter I am, because my folks are pretty much "in the know" themselves. Sometimes I think that's all it is, but other times, because of the tone and the way these folks say it, it makes my heart rate go up a notch.

Am I guilty about something? Hmmmm

What's also interesting to note.... all of these are MEN.

As they say.. you'd be surprised what people know, don't know.. and more importantly who they know.

I think my time in blogging is up. I have an article to write, another to plan and prepare for tomorrow's church service and a superbowl party I will be attending.

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

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

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

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

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

Craziness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today has truly been inspirational and I didn't even make it to church today.

The Snickerdoodle and I got a late start to our day. So it was nearly noon when I sat her in her high chair, prepared brunch for the both of us and flipped the channels on the tele to TVOne. TVOne Access (an extension to Access Hollywood) was doing a profile on Beyonce. I'm not the biggest Beyonce fan but I have to admit I do admire how she handles her business. In looking at her interview clips, it's obvious that she lays out her goals and aims for them with the bulk of them obtained. One of the strong points that her colleagues mentioned is that she does have an excellent work ethic, which has been instilled in her since she was little. Certainly she has earned her bragging rights, which she delivers on her song "Diva,"

Sidebar: I tend to like the song Diva, but I just cringe everytime I hear the second verse. The verse just weakens it with talks of six packs in the cooler? Stick up? "Where your boss at?" huh? Then I'm brought back to Beyonce.. err umm Sasha's reality when she mentions there are no passengers on her plane.

Still, regardless if you love her or hate her, you can't deny that she is putting in the work to get to where she is. Granted what was shown was bascially "surface" material, I was blown away by some of the responses in her past interviews. Grown and mature during a time when people look at your age and want to easily dismiss you because they assume you are young and wet behind the ears.  I was even more intrigued as she briefly talked about a time when she didn't want to be in the business anymore. She wanted to quit on the spot, but something or something kept her grounded and made her stronger....God. Obviously she chose to stay.  

What was inspirational was the fact I saw in some aspects she reminded me of myself.

Sidebar: Funny, a few months ago when I was playing around on the net, I ran across this little quiz thing on Lifetime.com. What famous person(s) are best suited to be your BFF (Best Friend Forever). Based on my answers the end result was: Beyonce, Kelly Rowland, Tyra Banks and Kimora Lee. Basically the ladies of a party and therefore know when to leave a party. I laughed, because based on what I've seen from them, I do like their personas... even if Kimora is a bit ghetto-fab.

When Beyonce talked quitting she said she realized there are moments in life, especially when you are working with your gift, your craft, that are going to be like butter and times when things are going to be rocky and hard. Yet you have to have the mentality and will power to not dwell, learn from it and move on. This of course is the lesson I'm currently living.

Aside from watching Beyonce and quick run to the grocery store afterwards, I came back home determined to find the documents concerning my total credit hours in order to graduate. Thankfully the boxes containing my important papers were in the house and not in the storage shed. I went through three different boxes and finding treasure along the way. Much of it were papers from both high school and college. I stumbled upon an undated twenty-five dollar check from Brandon. Attached was a letter and an application with my info filled out for the National Association of Black Journalists (NABJ). I smiled as I read the letter. It was during the time we were dating. I was a freshman in college and I must have mentioned something to him about my want to join the NABJ. Basically he was encouraging me to join and was offering to pay for my membership. Naturally I must have rejected the offer if I'm coming across the check. 

I know.. my pride.

Of course I joined using my own money. Which reminds me... I need to seriously renew my membership.

Then my emotions tugged at me as I came across obituaries. Darin, my friend from high school. Allen, my godfather. Quincy, my godbrother. There will always be a sore spot for Quincy leaving this life when we were both 17. Florine, my grandmother on my father side, whom I believe much of my talent as well as my older brothers and my sister live in our blood. My grandmother the secretary by day. Vocalist, violinist, pianist and model by night. Much like her husband... my grandfather. Teacher by day. Local playwright putting on small shows after hours. 

Then my own writing. One in particular caught my eye. I began with a quote from Anais Nin.

"She lacks confidence. She craves admiration insatiably. She lives on the reflections of herself in the eyes of others. She does not care to be herself"

- Anais Nin

What followed were a series of short and random thoughts. Much of it about life and wanting..craving freedom. Freedom from what I saw a facade, a fake me.

Thought #2
I'm often complimented that I'm indeed a good writer. These compliments are nothing more than reminders of how much of a phony I am. Well that's how I see it. You see I find something and without much thought I just write it down...raw feelings.

Why do I feel like a phony? Call it a lack of confidence..call it trying too hard to be deep in thought that I totally forget what the piece is about...call it nothing more than BS writing. It's all fake.

What folks don't know is that I'm an amateur. I can get a flow going and then... like the snap of a finger...it happens. a big stone rolls it's way to that ride side of the brain (creative side...I think) causing a deep mental shutdown. I curse the friend that called on the phone that didn't want nothing. I curse my aunt for dropping off her screaming two-year-old. I curse my parents for wanting my services for something they could have done for themselves.

Thought#3
Sometimes I feel like I'm the chick in the flicks you see with a chip on her shoulder. She does and says whatever the hell she pleases. She's a rebel without a cause. To get next to her is a dare. To fuck her is an honor. To make her smile and laugh is a plus. To make her cry is a disgust. To love her is a challenge.

I was taken aback by my thoughts and the fact that I saw myself in this light. I was 21. Then I found this sheet of paper with two more Anais Nin quotes I had written down. One of which was:

"There are very few human beings who receive the truth, complete and staggering, by instant illumination. Most of them acquire it fragment by fragment, on a small scale, by successive developments, cellularly, like a laborious mosaic."

I thought back to the time when I was writing all of of this. Familar faces and places fashed across my mental picture. Some of it made me smile. Some of it made me want to mourn. I thought for a moment of my truth. What is the real me. Funny how people always put emphasis on what age or what time frame you should have yourself figured out. I've seen grown people as old as fifty still living without a clue and people younger than me sure as the day they were born of who they are. I thought I would have all this figured out by now, but seriously 2008 caught me off gaurd and questioning at lot.

A year shy of thirty and I'm just now.. beginning to see some of my truths. The real me.

"Ordinary life does not interest me. I seek only the high moments. I am in accord with the surrealists, searching for the marvelous."
- Anais Nin

Thought#2009
Ambitious one. Always thinking ahead. So far into the light, reality is out of sight. Stubborn and always fighting with invisible foes. Too prideful to let go. Beautiful one covered and hidden by fears, self-inflects the wounds. Can't see or hear.   

Ambitious one. Always thinking ahead. So far into the light, her "reality" made her dead. She could have made it, if she would have only let go. Control, her best drug. Her worst enemy. She played slave to her master. The ultimate masturbation of life if any.

Ambitious one. Always thinking ahead. So far into the light, reality is plight. Can't run nor walk away. Can no longer live the masqurade. Have to deal. Have soil to till.

Needless to say, I did eventually find what I was looking for. Off to school tomorrow to talk to an advisor.

"Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise: Which having no guide, overseer, or ruler, Provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest. How long wilt thou sleep, O sluggard? when wilt thou arise out of thy sleep? Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep: So shall thy poverty come as one that travelleth, and thy want as an armed man." (Proverbs 6:6-11 KJV)

She always sat by the windows during class.

Some days she was outspoken and other times she sat quietly and observed.

She wasn't from DC.

So we could never bond over Chuck Brown, super jumbo wings from the carry out or even call people "bamas" and say they were "lunchin."

Chicago, the south side was where she claimed to be.

From what I remember, her poetry wasn't always on the profound concious level tip.

Her poetry wasn't flat neither.

They were words.. her words.

I once thought they were real.

Deep down to the bone true.

Until I began to get a feeling.

She was hiding.

Finally what she had buried long ago was starting to show.

Medina asked us to write a poem based on death or loss of a loved one...

Or was the topic simply on cancer?

Either way she refused to write.

She blurted out

"I lost my mother at a young age. I can't write about that."

However old she was, I sensed the death was still fresh... still too new.

Medina urge her write, but she simply refused.

Eventually she vented on paper.

I don't even remember if she shared with the class.

Medina made us do that from time to time.

Still, I was too wrapped up in my own misery to stick around to see what became of her.

I just remember my poem on "cancer".....

It was something like this...

A piercing pain stabs my womb

Induced labor, I'm forced to deliver love

Stillborn

For love was conceived under false pretenses

Self indulged

All in the name of fun

I was told to cleanse myself of such

Nuisance

Yet, I was seasoned to his thinking

He sucked me dry, robbing me of my vitality

The Cancer

Born under the fourth sign, but he left under the ninth

Life

I was left barren

 - Tiffany Browne (Mahoganie), Robbed Life, written October 21, 2003.

I wonder what became of her.

I wonder if she ever made peace with her mind.

Will she ever feel comfortable with her loss?

She came to mind today.

Not sure why.

Clear as day she was sitting in her same spot in the classroom

By the window.

Yellow bookbag with Howard Dean for President stickers plastered to it.

She was Dean's cheerleader.

I wonder what became of her.

Today has been about homework. Not for any particular reason or shall I say not for a "mandatory" reason.

The U.S. Department of Education sent me a notice in the mail today or really a congratulatory letter.

I'm one payment away from being "rehabilitated". Meaning, if I should choose to go back to the school with help from the government, I'm one paymeny away from loan eligibility.

Yippe!!!

Ironically I was literally about to pick up the phone and call them to see where I currently stand.

I'm a bit tickled at the fact that in the eyes of the US. Gov't I'm about to become "rehabilitated."

Makes it seem as if I was strung out on crack for the three years I was m-i-a from school.

I did manage to make a phone call to my school today.

"Hello, I'm a former student looking to return and I was within the school of communications. I would like to come up to the school tomorrow to speak with an adviser. However, I need the name of the person who would be my adviser?"

After asking for my name, the person on the other end of the line gladly gave me the name of my adviser.

I'm nervous about a (possibly soon) return. I kinda fear I'm going to fall in the same runt I did all those years I was in school.

Feelings of anxiety and being overwhelmed.

Yet, I do have a strong desire to finish this.

Also, I still have a hanging balance on my tuition bill too.

Blah.

Nevertheless, I know.. this must be done.

In the meantime, I'm gearing up for a volunteer gig coming up in a few weeks. Actually this is some of my mother's doing, but at least she asked me if I wanted to take part.  The chapter of her social organization that she is a member of is having a workshop for some sixth grade students. The workshop is educational and a bit artsy fartsy as it focuses on entrepreneurship, etiquette and a few other values.

Where do I come in?

Well I'm suppose to introduce or really encourage some writing skills, especially with forms of poetry.

Did I mention that I would be working with a group of sixth grade boys????

I don't mind doing this. I'm actually a bit excited.

The tricky part is... how would I start the session?

I know I want to introduce a couple of different forms of poetry that probably isn't taught in school... forms I didn't learn into I was in college and took a class by poet Tony Medina.

I thought about opening up with Tupac's book of poetry. Maybe. Then slide in Langston Hughes, Audre Lourde, Sekou Sundiata, Nikki Giovanni and Sonia Sanchez. I'll figure it out I suppose.  I won't want to choose a poet or poem that might be too far fetched for a sixth grader's mind and I don't want anything too elementary neither.

Well I guess I'll sign off now ad return to the daily activities at this "rehab."

The Snickerdoodle has (once again) misplaced her pacifier and is about to have a fit.