The Passion

I’ve always been the “friend with the cool job”. In college, every internship or work experience I had was with a well-known media behemoth. Clear Channel Communications, MTV, Fox News, you name it. Even after I graduated I finagled my way into freelance production work with NBC Universal. When I’d catch up with college buddies and tell them I had just seen Adam Sandler or Denzel Washington on set, their mouths would drop and they’d beg for details. Little did they know that I been fetching coffee and directing pedestrian foot traffic all day. It was important that tax-paying citizens not walk on the public street where we were shooting, or else they’d interfere with the scene. Making films is serious business, after all.


I really believed that the media industry was for me, and that I just hadn’t yet found my footing. When I landed [my current position], I was confident that this would be the solid career foundation I was looking for. After three years with the company, I still have yet to be convinced. When I head to work each morning, instead of worrying about meetings, or action items on my to-do list, I’m focused on what I’ll be doing after 6 pm. I may run a few miles with Team in Training, which is a subsidiary of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society (LLS), I may have a committee meeting with the “Light the Night” Walk volunteer group (also of LLS), or I may be tutoring at the Jerusalem House. Even my weekends are packed with mentoring and volunteering for the organizations I have come to love. My commitments to these organizations are what motivate me each morning, and what keep me going when my less-than-fulfilling job begins to weigh on me. My associations with non-profit organizations are my driving force; they are my passion.

I did some volunteer work in college, and when I moved to [my current city], and finally got settled in, I began searching for ways to give back to my community. Big Brothers Big Sisters of America was immediately appealing because I’d have one young lady for whom I was responsible. The time commitment was manageable and, given all of the perks I had inherited from [my job], we’d always have something fun and/or educational to. After our very first meeting, I could see how valuable our relationship would become. I was going to learn a great deal about poverty in [my city], the education gap, the achievement gap, and I’d gain exposure to an entire sub-culture of black America that I’d never before seen, even [in college]. In turn, I was determined to teach her the rules of English grammar, proper etiquette, the necessity of trying new things, and the importance of building a relationship with God. She and I are still building, but I’m so proud of how far along we have come.

I began tutoring at the Jerusalem House after a Volunteer Day activity in September of 2007. The Jerusalem House is a non-profit housing establishment that permanently caters to families affected by HIV/AIDS. The students at the Jerusalem House are bright and enthusiastic, despite the many challenges they and their families face. Even when my schedule prevented from tutoring on a weekly basis, I found ways to give back, ranging from a [local college] campus tour to a family outing to a [baseball] game.

My most personal tie to a non-profit organization, however, is with the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. In March 2009, my mother was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. It was shocking to all of us because she was a healthy woman. She didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, and had no family history of this particular cancer. It was a trying summer, and in October when she received her final treatment of chemo, I vowed to do everything possible to commemorate her remission. I started by raising $1000 for LLS’s “Light the Night” walk. I was proud of that accomplishment, but knew I could do more. In November, I began training for my first-ever half marathon with LLS’s “Team in Training” program. Though Team in Training, I gained an instant network of friends and fellow athletes committed to raising awareness and fighting blood cancers. We all raised funds and trained together, supporting one another when family members fell ill, pushing each other to complete each run with a strong finish, and vowing to never forget the lives lost to blood cancers. It was the most emotional yet fulfilling experience I have had in my life. This is what truly opened my eyes to what I believe to be my calling.

If I can find a way to help non-profit organization such as BBBS, the Jerusalem House and LLS thrive, I will consider myself accomplished. I don’t want to just help these organizations and others like them succeed; I want to see them grow to the highest of heights, enlightening others of their missions along the way. Whether I’m helping them to raise money or coordinate events; recruit volunteers or build better business plans, I want my impact to be relevant and long-lasting.

By societal standards, I am already a success story. I have my own place, my own car, and I work for an amazing company with great benefits. But I don’t want to be a success; I’d rather be significant. I’d rather have my life’s work feel meaningful and important. I don’t get that from media, and I doubt I ever will. There are certainly aspects of my communications background that will serve me well in my future endeavors. But, I intend to dedicate myself to the non-profit sector, and advancing organizations that face more challenges, and deserve more resources than the “cool” media giants. I cannot, in good faith, think of any reason to choose film and television over the young girl with sub-par reading skills, the single-parent family with AIDS, or the husband who has just learned that his wife has cancer… life is too short for that.

Playing "Mom"

The weekend was absolutely beautiful. It was the first weekend since the half marathon that I could actually sleep in, relax and enjoy myself! But of course, other duties called. I was overdue a visit with Ruby and had other responsibilities that required my attention. It was fine, though. For the first time in a long time, I was NOT going to be training, studying or stressing. I was looking forward to what the weekend had in store.

Saturday I woke up with plans to take Ruby to a theme park. Cece's goddaughters were in town too, so she, her boyfriend, her goddaughters, Ruby and I headed to the park for a makeshift family reunion. It was sure to be a crash course for us in what parenting was *really* like. We were excited.

Ruby had never been to the park before, and I could see as we neared the rollercoasters and excitement that she was eager to explore it all. Unfortunately she'd been having "attitude problems" lately, according to her mom. So, I told her we were going to the museum. Her face quickly fell. I couldn't help myself. I've given her the impression that I'm an outlet for fun, I think. I needed to remind her that, as mentor, I was here to help guide her in all facets of her life - and a bad attitude was not going to cut it.

My facade quickly faded as we made our way into the grand entrance. But I made Ruby pinky swear that she would heed her mother's directions (the FIRST time, not after being asked repeatedly), she would NOT talk back to her teachers, and that she'd make better efforts on her nightly homework assignments. We'll see how that goes.

After an afternoon in the sun, we took our kids to Saturday Night Service. It was Easter weekend, and we had MUCH to be thankful for. I could tell Ruby was less than enthused to spend her Saturday evening at church - but tough luck. Among the many things I hope to teach her during our relationship - one will be to praise Him from whom all blessings flow...

The pastor did a dramatic interpretation of Jesus' Crucifixion from the viewpoint of Cleopus, preaching from the book of Luke. It was powerful.  Of course the poor child couldn't sit still through the hour-long service (short for Easter, right??), but what disheartened me most was that she had never even heard the Easter story before. She didn't know why we celebrated Easter nor did she understand or appreciate the significance of Jesus dying for our sins and rising again...

::sighs::

I did my best to provide her with the Cliffs Notes version on our ride back to her house. I then challenged her to remember the Lord's Prayer (she couldn't) and delve a little deeper into understanding it's meaning. She bored of our little talk very quickly.

I know it's not my responsibility to teach her religion or spirituality. And I know when I was eleven I hated going to Church each morning. But now that I'm an adult, having grown up "in the church", understanding the meaning behind Christian holidays, and knowing that I can always count on God - I don't know what I would have done if my mom DID NOT make me get out of bed each Sunday to worship Him. I don't know how I would have made it through some of life's trials thus far. Because my mother instilled that discipline in me early - to go to church every Sunday - I've managed to carry it with me through adulthood...

Is this an L I'm just going to have to take with Ruby? I don't have the patience to monitor her every Sunday... pick her up, make her sit still, explain the sermon to her, and take her home. After all, she's really not my child. But, I feel like if I could leave her with anything - better grammar, higher self-esteem, the ability to make good choices... the most worthwhile and relevant would be a relationship with God.

I'll pray on it...

The Truth Is...

...the longer I continue to hold onto this, the longer it will take for me to fully move on. And, if I'm serious about my future; if I'm serious about my goals; if I'm serious about keeping my past in the past and claiming tomorrow's glory then I really, really, honestly and truly need to let it go.

Let it go!

Self: I forgive you for what happened. I forgive you for holding on. I forgive you for putting more faith in man than in God. I forgive you for losing sight of what was really important. I forgive you for compromising yourself. I forgive you for getting caught up in the superficial and the fake. I forgive you for dwelling. And dwelling, again. And I believe everything will get better.

I believe everything will get better.

I will move on.

I will move forward.

I will be okay.

I'm going to let it go.

If You Want to Know... Ask

http://www.formspring.me/seraphima29

Perhaps this will be theraputic... Time will tell.

Layered Frustrations

I can’t really find the words to articulate the source of my frustration. But I know there are several layers that are interfering with my daily thoughts, feelings and general disposition. To start, MLT has commenced and, while I was initially enthralled with the idea of participating in such a highly competitive program, the very first challenges are proving to be slightly overwhelming. The writing portion of our monthly assignments will get handled. No sweat. But this f-ing GMAT score might be the death of me. I have invested a nice portion of my annual income into a Kaplan course and, for whatever reason, cannot seem to find the time or mental capacity to study. There are 1000 things I’d rather do each night, every weekend, and in any spare moment I may find. What is my problem?

On top of that, after months of counseling, a new boy, and countless “breaths of fresh air” I find myself troubled with thoughts of the Old Boy again. This past three-day Valentine’s Weekend was emotional to say the least. In fact, the months of January and February combined have been a bit tumultuous for me. I’ve been in a constant funk for no reason at all. Perpetual PMS, if you will. I’ve managed to keep it (for the most part) to myself and try to let it pass. But V-Day weekend was kind of a big deal, and for me to be alone while he’s in NY living it up pulled at every heartstring I think I have.

I get that Valentine’s Day is a “Hallmark Holiday” invented by the consumer products industry to gross over 14 billion dollars annually… but so what? What’s wrong with celebrating love and affection once a year? What’s wrong with telling people (be they friends, lovers, parents, etc.) how you feel? What’s wrong with dinner, flowers, or even a movie night to celebrate the warm fuzzy feeling you get when you’re with that special someone? And, if you have no one… what then?

I ended up at a dinner with friends on Sunday night, and it proved to be just what I needed – lighthearted and full of laughter. Even Monday was pretty cool. I ran a few errands and visited with grandma (who’s still hanging in there!). Whatever.

I think that the failed relationship with the Old Boy coupled with the disastrous disappointment named Aaron is weighing on me more than I’d care to acknowledge. And, trying to focus on my future is not proving as helpful (or even as plausible) as others would lead one to believe. It’s like I’m living in my own mini-hell (again) and everyone is just standing around watching. Even my friends from college appear to be gravitating toward the Old Boy and his new girl… quoting them both on Twitter, causally mentioning them in conversations, appearing to enjoy their company overall. It’s annoying. Try as I may, I can’t seem to escape this sociopath. And he appears to have all of my “college friends” clouded with his devilish deceit. Smh. I hate this.

I have got to get out of here.

I Met a Boy, Part II

On the Monday following said “incident” he called me to confirm a few things. He couldn’t quite remember exactly everything that had transpired. Okay, cool. Everything is fine. Nobody has ANYthing to worry about. But his tone… there was something in his tone that I just didn’t quite like. It was a subtle mix of fear, mild condescension and too much tact. When we hung up I felt completely put off, and somewhat discouraged. The old Michele would have “let it go” meaning: toss and turn all night, wrack my brain to figure out what his “tone” meant, and do everything but, in fact, let it go. Instead, I called him back. I told him that there was clearly a conversation that we should have had a long, long time ago, and the idea that this was making him exceedingly uncomfortable was beginning to make me uncomfortable. The conversation ended civilly enough, and I felt good about speaking my mind instead of being my typical passive-aggressive self. We resolved everything. On to the next one.

Except, I didn’t talk to him at all that week. No text. No calls. No gchat. No nothing. By Friday, I was on the verge of just cutting him off once and for all. Instead, I sent him an email. Cut and paste for your reading pleasure here:

I know you're not a phone person, so I'm hoping you're an e-mail person. I know you're slammed with work and grad school apps, but I was hoping to get a little of your time this week or this weekend. My schedule is pretty crazy too with last minute holiday stuff, so I imagine it may be difficult. I'd still like to try to get together, though.

We haven't spoken at all since Monday. I can't help but assume it has something to do with the nature of our last conversation. I've been thinking a lot about it, and I feel as though we handled it appropriately. I will admit I was annoyed at how it happened and how we resolved it, but I'm hoping that it's something we both feel okay about.

Aside from that, I'm having trouble figuring out the best way to get to know you. I thought we liked each other, but perhaps I misread something. Without consistent phone calls or text messages, we're limited to going out. Given both of our schedules, those outings seem to be few and far between. I'm not complaining, but I do want to make sure we're on the same page. We've been hanging out for a few weeks, but I can't say I really know you any better than I did on October 24th.

I hope this note finds you well. Perhaps I'll see or hear from you sooner than later.

Short. Sweet. Non-emotional. To the point.

He responded, via g-chat, with bullet points.

hey. just read your email. a few thoughts:

12:25 PM -- thanks for the thoughtful note. i think you've been very respectful of my time commitments (or lack thereof) and I'm appreciative of that

12:26 PM -- on the Monday conversation/weekend events... I'm quite disappointed in myself by my saturday actions and not just what happened between us but how much i drank and the fact that i drove after drinking so much, so i'm still trying to get a grip on that

12:27 PM -- on the getting to know me piece: this is a much longer conversation and one that may or may be better to have in person. however, i'll say a few quick things.

12:30 PM actually, i'll leave it at that

Now, I know my email was concise and all, but it was still a letter. His response was so... formal. It must be the consultant in him. I let him know I had a lunch commitment for work and that I needed to leave the computer for a bit, but that we would catch up later. Do you know I didn’t hear from him for three weeks? No “Merry Christmas,” no “Happy New Year.” I didn’t even bother calling him on his birthday (December 27th) because I was so disappointed at having been ignored for a week and a half. Time passed, and I was slowing “letting HIM go” (aggressively, not passively) by occupying my time with the Holiday 5K, heading home, seeing an old flame, connecting with high school friends, etc. etc.

But this past Wednesday I decided I wanted to break the silence. Clearly he just wasn’t that into me. And, that was fine. I had been through worse. I could call a two-month fling what it was, and not be scarred by it. Yes, I would have liked to have seen our little blossom continue to bloom… especially during the cold winter months… but I could accept that that was not going to happen. I just wanted to know 1. if he had gotten some of his belongings that I had mailed to him and 2. what had happened? Had I done something wrong? Was he really THAT busy? (NO) Did he have the balls to say he just wasn’t feeling me anymore?

I sent a passive gchat note. He responded a day later with a passive reply. I have yet to say anything else. I’ve confided in Melanie to see if she has any insight; and all she harbors now is contempt for Aaron. She’s upset that a guy that smart could be so dumb. It happens. I think she’s more mad than I am! LOL. I’m not even mad, really. It’s like I said – he’s the biggest (and most confusing) highlight of Q4, 2009. And, perhaps that’s where he should stay…


The jury is still out on that one...

I Met a Boy, Part I

So, I took a little break in November in December. I had the time of my life, to be perfectly honest. The end of October was AMAZING. I was feeling myself. I can't even lie. I had gotten over the hurdle. There were some residual emotions, but I was working through those. I had raised the funds for the Light the Night walk, and completed the event with minimal tears. Homecoming season was right around the corner, and while I would not be attending my alma mater's annual festivities, there were two other HBCUs that would surely fill that void. In November I kicked ass at work, increasing productivity and content for our little online store by 250%. I kid you not. December was the wind-down month. It was full of holiday parties, charity work, warm, fuzzy emotional moments with friends, and plenty of reflection. I headed home for Christmas, and thoroughly enjoyed a week of shopping, drinking with Mom and friends, a major party, one late-night rendezvous, and plenty of much needed rest.

But the biggest (and most confusing) highlight of Q4 of 2009 is "the new boy". We'll call him Aaron. I met this young man at the first of two consecutive HBCU homecoming weekends. I partied for two weeks straight - yes I did. I deserved it! Anywho, I met this guy... well, I had known him for awhile... he's Melanie's boyfriend's BFF. And, awhile back he'd mentioned to Melanie that he might, sorta, kinda have a thing for me. Well, I was completely preoccupied with that trashbag of a man who shall forever remain nameless, so, I never paid him any mind. Welp. I called myself ready to entertain something new, and there he was - friendly, happy to see me again, slightly intoxicated, handsome, and perhaps still a tad into me. It felt niiiiice. We chatted at the tailgate, and even danced together at the massive block party into the early evening hours. Afterwards, the whole groups of us (me, Anisa, Melanie, Mel's boyfriend, the boyfriend's friends, etc.) went back to his place for post-tailgate/pre-game/follow-up drinks to keep the party going. His. Place. Was. AWESOME. A gorgeous loft with smooth concrete floors, an exposed brick wall, a sunken in living room, space for a dining table AND desk, a full downstairs bathroom, and a quaint upstairs bedroom. Being a consultant paid well, I saw.

We were drinking, and he was doing/saying all the right things: pulled me aside, told me he wanted to take me out... on multiple dates. Once to the art museum. Again to the movies. A third date with his "little brother" and my "little sister" since we were both mentors through BBBS. It was cute. And I was thrilled.  A nice guy who liked me?! And had manners? Where do those come from? People were starving and the two pizzas he had graciously ordered for the group had apparently evaporated or something, so he asked me to come outside with him so we could order Chinese. We were struggling. We were both drunk and, I don't know if you know this but, Chinese take-out places don't typically deliver. But we were steady calling these take-out restaurants for food, perplexed as to why they wouldn't deliver food to us. Yeah, we were in the hood... so? 

After call four or so, my stomach was still growling, my head started to droop in disappointment when he leaned in and kissed me. Out of nowhere. This shy, somewhat awkward, but otherwise really cute guy pulled me closer to him and just went for it. Boy. Oh. Boy. Do you know how long it had been since I'd been kissed like that? With passion but uncertainty? With newness and excitement?! It was the kind of unsteady kiss that had us backing into the hallway wall, stumbling over each other's feet, forgetting about it, sinking into it, losing ourselves, relaxing... Whew, chile. I want to do that again.

We made our way back inside, empty-handed, and decided  a drive-thru might be a better alternative for our hunger woes. He drove. And, at every stop sign, stoplight, and remote pause in our trip, we were kissing. It felt so amazing. It felt so freeing. It felt so naughty! LOL. Was I back in school? This was fun! Innocent enough, but still kinda sneaky. Right up my alley.

The evening passed quickly enough. Aaron kicked everyone out, claiming we were headed to the W. No one was really feeling that, so we ended up just peacing out. From there, though, bloomed a cute little thing. We had a lunch date two weeks later, and subsequent outings after that. I was enjoying it. Granted, he was hard to get a hold of lots of times - he traveled for work, and wasn't much of a "phone person" outside of that (as he put it) - but we were maintaining. And it worked for a nice little while... Well, a month and a half.

"Not a phone person," hm? I could understand that, and I could respect it... but it became more and more of a hurdle with every interaction. He wasn't much of a communicator period. There would be HOURS in between texts; days between simple "check in" calls; and, a convenient amnesia that seemed to creep into our plans every once in awhile. Like, how was I supposed to get to know this dude if we rarely saw each other, and couldn't catch up over the phone in the interim? Couple that with the fact that we began a physical relationship rather prematurely and, well, it ended up turning into more of "a situation". We were nowhere near a "relationship" and I'm too old to be called a "boo". So, we were dating, and sleeping together, but not effectively communicating - at least not to my satisfaction... and that was troubling.

The death of our "situation" occurred on the eve of his company holiday party. I had gotten all dolled up, and pissed because everything kept going wrong. I ruined my manicure. The rain was f-ing up my new hairdo. I spent too much money on make-up, and was rushed to get ready when he surprised with an early pre-game time. Whatever. I got to his place and broke the f-ing wine bottle opener in the cork of a Merlot. I gulped a vodka cranberry instead and just did my best to calm my nerves. I was too jittery. The party ended up being a blast. His colleagues were great. We followed that up with a trip to his friend's house celebrate a GRE completion for, none other than, his BFF - Melanie's boyfriend. Blah, blah, blah. We decide to go out for more drinks and celebrate. Aaron and I were the first to leave, and in the parking deck, while we were waiting for everyone else to come out, we start to fool around. I'm not going to bore you with the graphic details, but we ran into a little... um... uncomfortable/awkward situation(s). It hasn't been the same since.

Life Training

I've made my mother upset with me. Well, not "upset" upset... but, you know, more than uncomfortable. In my exuberance and excitement following the "Light the Night" Walk hosted by the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society (LLS) I decided to sign up for a half-marathon in March. LLS has this organization called Team In Training - a group of extreme sports athletes who raise funds for LLS and train for marathons, half marathons, triathlons, you name it.

The stars aligned to even get me to this point.  During my blogging hiatus I applied to Yale's Diversity Weekend and got rejected. In an effort to stay positive, I applied to Stern's "Women in Business" weekend, scheduled myself to attend a class and grab a coffee with a current student. In the midst of my NYU weekend, I met an applicant who happened to mention how she had raised funds for this organization because her father had Leukemia... 

"Wait, did you say your father had Leukemia? Have you heard of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society?" I inquired.

"Yeah!" she said, shocked. "They have this thing called 'Team in Training' where you train for these races and raise money for LLS. It's great because you have a team to motivate you even when you may not feel like training. They give you a coach, and a trainer... they prep you with all these health seminars along the way. It's really rewarding," my new friend said.

I was sold. As soon as I got back to work the following day, I googled TNT, found a local race, and bam! Not only was there an upcoming half-marathon in my area, but it happened to be the EXACT SAME RACE CeCe had mentioned to me a few weeks before. When she first suggested it, I was less than enthused. At the time, we still had our little 5K to run (we both killed that on December 19, btw). But knowing that I could continue to work with LLS and tone my petite little self at the same time was too much of a good thing. I let her know we were doing it, and even got her on board to fundraise with me. Friends - and I mean REAL friends - are very hard to come by.

Fast forward to this week. I had retrieved my mother's address book over the holiday break and let her know I was going to be sending fundraising letters to a good portion of the people in it. To be honest, when I drafted the letter for this particular fundraiser - much like the email I sent out for the "Light the Night" walk - I referenced my loved one as "a close family member". I tried to maintain anonymity and respect my mother's privacy.  But... Mom beat the cancer in October. She was feeling much, much better. She was singing, traveling, and living her life like her old self. So, in the final letter, to compel people to donate, and to make it even more personal, I stated I was raising the money for Mom. I was proud of her. I was emotional. And I wanted to let people know that my mom was one tough cookie.

Well. Tonight I got my first shocked phone call from a cousin. Wamp, wamp.

"HOW IS SHE? HOW DID I NOT KNOW? WE ARE DEFINITELY GOING TO DONATE."

While I was happy to get my point across, I knew my mom was about to be pissed about these upcoming phone calls. Seventy-five letters. I sent out seventy-freaking-five letters to family, close friends, and a handful of personal Atlanta contacts.

I've done the math, and I think only about 33 of the people on the list MIGHT actually call her... and that's if they have her number. But damn. This is exactly what she wanted to avoid by not having ever mentioned it to family friends before. Point taken. I'm sorry.

I called her to prepare her for what might ensue. She told me she was proud of me, and didn't want to rain on my parade, but this is why she hesitated to even help out with fundraising to begin with. She didn't like the way people looked at her or spoke to her when they found out she had cancer. She said people will continue to use the word "have" - the present tense - even though she's already beaten it. Once a cancer patient, always a cancer patient. "There's power in words," she said. "I don't want words interfering with what has already come and gone."

And perhaps this is just me, but that is where I disagree. God shines brightest through other people's trials and tribulations. We learn how to be strong by watching and surrounding ourselves with strong people. Over the past few months, I've had more friends tell me they admire MY strength than ever before. My strength? What makes you think I have that?

They watched me cry. They watched me pray. They listened to me rationalize. They saw me grow. They saw GOD carry me through what was truly the most difficult period in my life. And, you know, I hope that means I was able to bring at least one other person closer to God. I hope my overcoming was evidence for someone else to believe that God is able. God will not fail. He will not forsake you. He will carry you through.

And... well, maybe... I'm hoping that Mom will see it's time to shine her light a little too. When people call or approach her with the whiny 'how are you feeling' schtick, maybe she can just smile, gracefully, and let the person know she's feeling fine. She's 100% better. She's good.

And, maybe, when they ask how she got through it, she can say "the Lord got me through it."

And, maybe, it will touch one person. To touch just ONE would be enough. And they'll take those six words home with them and begin a new relationship with GOD...

Or maybe she'll just ignore her phone for the next few days.

Sighs. I hate when I get on a person's bad side. She's my mom, so I don't expect I'll stay there too long... but. Man. I was just trying to do something good! Something positive! For HER! My excitement got the best of me, I guess. Lesson learned.