My Looking Glass Self

Infantile Delusions or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Lack of Sleep

2011-07-13T08:54:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

The last time I left you, I mentioned how I envisioned my life after the doctor would hand me my daughter. Posed as if we were photographed, myself, husband, and child would all look up into the yonder and from then on live a wonderful life.

Well, when the nurse handed me my daughter, my life has been drastically different than what I envisioned. There was no yonder to look into, just the hospital ceiling tiles; and the first three months of this wonderful life was filled with tears, self-doubt, and visions of hurting my husband.

When I first told people about my pregnancy I was fed many lines of: "OH!! IT'S GOING TO BE TERRIFIC!!" "ENJOY YOUR DAUGHTER WHEN SHE'S A BABY, IT'S GONNA BE THE BEST MOMENT IN YOUR LIFE!!" and "BABIES ARE SOO EASY TO HANDLE!! Of course you're gonna be a little tired, but you won't even notice it!!" Then, I would read pregnancy books that showed happy couples changing their babies together. Publications that encouraged me that Of course it'll be a little hard getting used to, but after a few days you'll be fine. Even the nurses, that no matter who was in the room or what time it was, would unfasten my gown and pop my...feeding mechanism in my daughter's mouth would tell me the exact same thing.

All of these people can't be wrong!! When we brought our daughter home, she slept like an angel... then an hour later, she woke up and wouldn't sleep for the rest of the night. The milk that my body produced for her was no longer up to her standards, and panic began to set in. "ED!! SHE'S NOT EATING!! GET HER SOME FORMULA!! NOW!!"

Everything seemed so easy at the hospital, and with a small change in location (and I mean, EXTREMELY small location change, I live so close to the hospital that I walk there sometimes), it seemed like everything changed. My daughter no longer slept during the night... or during the day. The helpful nurses that were at a button's call was replaced by my tired husband, who after asking him to get up would...after twenty minutes. The calming and serene hospital ambient noise was replaced by my stupid neighbor playing the SAME Rick Ross songs for three hours while he got ready to go to... God knows where.

Like an atomic bomb, I felt like I could blow at any minute, and any and all people who would tell me: "It'll get better," were potential Soviet Union members. I didn't care about it getting better in the future, I wanted it to get better NOW!!

I kept on wondering if something was wrong with me. Why did it seem like it was so easy for everyone else? Why did she stop latching on, and then when I pumped, why did she not accept the milk? Why is it that the only position that she will fall asleep involves me sitting up against the wall, and her leaning up against me? Why do I dream of my daughter walking and talking, wake up and see that she's still an infant and burst into tears? Why does my neighbor think that Rick Ross is so good? (Seriously, Rick Ross, who are you trying to convince that you're a thug? Me or yourself?)

After a while my neighbor started listening to different music (courtesy of a new girlfriend, her thank you fruit basket is in the mail), and even with the lack of sleep, it did eventually get better. My daughter finally sleeps through the night, and I no longer feel like I'm a member of the walking dead.

Today, we're celebrating my daughter's first six months in the world, and I think back to moments when I had to encourage myself: "If you make it through the first week/first month/ first six weeks/ first three months, you'll be fine." Even though I love my daughter as a baby, I celebrate every milestone that signifies growth and maturity; and I know that if I can make it 'til she reaches preschool, I know that I can make it!!

Stay Encouraged!!

Cracks in the Veneer

2011-07-05T08:55:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

A random tidbit about me, I'm a complete art junkie. There are few things that can replace the joy that I have by going to an art museum and spending hours looking at AMAZING works. From Matisse, Van Gogh, Renoir, Valencia Johnson, Grant Wood, and Jackson Pollock, I thrive off of seeing these amazing works of art. However, I don't have the opportunity to spend the time with my favorite artists like I used to.

While pregnant I couldn't wait for my daughter to be born, and for the two of us to go walking around the St. Louis' Art Museum together. As a matter of fact, I imagined a lot of things would happen after I had my daughter. I imagined that I would have a painless natural birth (meaning that I would be hopped up on any and all pain killers that they stuck in my IV), and once my daughter came out, the doctor would hand her over to my husband, and the three of us (me, with the body I had BEFORE the pregnancy) would look wistfully up in the sky as a light came shining down on us, encompassing us in our new family joy. Now, I'm not sure if this vision came from the drugs that was given to me to prepare me for my c-section, or maybe I had visions of Norman Rockwell happy family paintings dancing in my head, but it was a nice dream.

However, after my c-section, and the small shaking fit I had afterwards, I was taken into reality when nothing was how I had envisioned it. In life, we're sold an imagine of fantasy that can really set us up for failure. Like the still lives in the paintings I love, I failed to remember that these works were just a venue for the artists to express how they wish the world was, or how they interpreted it to be. Each vision is not necessarily a reality; and like the precious veneer of my favorite paintings, if not handled correctly, my fantasies of marriage and parenthood began to expose some cracks.

As I've gotten better at being able to accept my reality, and puddy up the holes in my new life, I've been able to pick up the paintbrush myself and decided to shape and mold my own vision of how I would like my life to be. I might not ever be able to dance in a meadow like Renoir's sisters, or dip my feet and play in Monet's water lilies, but I succeed in the portrait that I have drawn for myself.

This week, let's discuss!!

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Sunshine in Apryl

2011-06-24T18:07:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

Being a parent changes you. Before I became pregnant I had all types of crazy things I wanted to accomplish. Not just the goals of someday winning a Pulitzer, or having my books being on the New York Times best sellers’ list, I also had the crazy goals youth and invincibility brings to you: like skydiving, competing in a triathlon, or streaking. However, once I became a mother, all those things went out the window because I had someone else to live for. My daughter’s needs come first in everything, and I wouldn’t want to not be able to meet them because I died from plummeting, or drowning, or I was arrested for indecent exposure.

Anything that would separate me from my daughter was put on the NO list. Then, I began to have these random realizations that my daughter has been with me my ENTIRE life. Even though she wasn’t fully herself, because her father hadn’t supplied that finished…ingredient…to create the being that she is now yet, but she was an egg in my ovaries, and if that ingredient was added one month earlier, or one month later, I wouldn't have the baby that I love holding, hugging and kissing right now. These realizations made me even more attached to my daughter, and constantly vowing to never let anything happen to her.

When my daughter was four months hold I got a call from my youngest sister. My cousin Apryl and her 13 year old daughter Amari were in a car accident. The driver who had been intoxicated with alcohol and narcotics was driving in the wrong lane and hit them head on. As Kayla’s voice cracked, she told me that Amari died.

Right after hearing the news, my own daughter woke up and started making noise to get my attention so I could make her bottle. After feeding her, I stood her up on my knees. Oblivious to what happened, she smiled at me and began to rub my face. At that moment, I burst into tears and couldn’t stop. So many questions arose and mixed feelings of anger, hurt, sadness, and helplessness ran through me. I started hugging and kissing her, letting her know that I love her, and repeated “I will never let anything hurt you” to her.

After Apryl got out of the hospital, people came to my mother’s house to be with Apryl. I expected her to be inconsolable, and I felt my heart racing in anticipation of seeing her. Oh my God, this is so horrible, what should I say? How can I tell her it’s okay when I would be so devastated if my daughter died?

I walked in, saw Apryl and a huge smile spread across her face. Giving me a hug, she asked me how I was doing while simultaneously reaching for my baby, giving her a kiss and holding her. I quickly answered her questions and said I would be right back. In the solitude of my parents’ office I began to cry…so hard. When I felt like I had it all together, I went back out there, and began to talk to people, but each time I saw Apryl, I would politely excuse myself to a secluded part in the house and weep like a baby. There was no question the Apryl missed her daughter, but she was so strong and poised that I wept because I KNEW that I would NEVER be that strong.

After four solid crying sessions I asked my mother to take me home, so I could continue the pity party in the comforts of my own home. After settling in, I held my baby facing me and repeated to her over and over how I would protect her, but as I continued I realized that I was trying to convince myself. The truth of the matter is, no matter how hard I try, I will never be able to protect her from everything like I lied to her. Feeling helpless, I did the only thing I could do…I cried some more, but Apryl’s smiling face continued to invade my psyche. Apryl had tapped into a strength that is reserved for parents who face these types of tragedies, and the realization that one day I might have to dip in that strength pool scared me.

I realized that it wasn’t just the death of my cousin, or the feeling of helplessness that has then and now brought me to tears. It is also the awe I have for Apryl, and her incredible strength. I can’t comprehend the feelings of losing that little part of you that has always been there, just waiting in our ovaries to become the child that you will hug, watch grow and make plans for. However, Apryl has amazed not just myself, but any and all who know her story with her ability to overcome and persevere. My only hope is that in times of tumultuous thunderstorms, I can still radiate with the power of sunshine that Apryl has, and inspire someone the same way she has inspired me.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND!!

Social Splat-ification

2011-06-22T14:26:00.001-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

The summer of 2006 was a very interesting summer. To ensure that I would graduate college in 2007 I took some courses to help kick some credits into completion so I could graduate. That summer session I took three courses. The only two that had the strongest impact on me was my Sociology 225 course and my Community Health 103 course. At seemingly the same time of the summer each course tackled the concept of social stratification.

Sociology 225 addressed how rapidly social class status can fall, but how it was harder to climb up the social ladder. In Comm Health we talked about the state assistance that is available for low income families. During each of those sessions I remember looking at the slideshow presentations highlighting these concepts and praying: "Lord Jesus, PLEASE don't let that ever be me."

My background was not completely privileged, but very comfortable. From the information I learned in those collegiate courses I realized that my family was considered upper middle class and I just knew that that's where I would stay, if not accelerate. It wasn't until I got married...

I met my husband at our job. My position was only part-time (so I could also work part-time as a publicist, PRIORITYBOOKS PUBLICATIONS!! GET ON IT!!) and when we realized that I was pregnant, it seemed smart to look for full time positions. After attaining a relationship with the VP of the company I worked for I felt like I was a shoe-in for a full time position that paid a large amount more than I was earning. Feeling cocky that I had it, I quit my part-time position and sat waiting with open arms for my new job (with a desk and EVERYTHING!! "Ohh!! I'm gonna get a ficus!!")

It wasn't until the VP got fired and they dismissed all of her suggestions for candidates that I slowly felt not just my stomach drop, but my social status as well. I remember looking at my $18 shaving cream and my $900 Fendi bag that I bought in the past that didn't seem like a huge bargain at the time and began panicking and thinking about all the other places that money could be going now. Feeling stupid for being so careless about my spending habits I began to look at my vain purchases with such distaste that I just started giving them away ("You want this ring? I spent $300 on it while I was in college, go ahead, Happy Mother's Day..." "You wanna buy my $900 bag? No... those are tears of joy as I sell it to you for $200..." "Cashmere sweater? ...Just take it...")

There was no way that I ever thought that I would end up in this position, and holding on to the expensive purchases just seemed vain. What am I going to do? Sit at home in my ABS Schwartz dress and feed my baby? Not only was the transition of letting go of my purchases was an adjustment, so was the treatment that employees at these government aid companies offered. Even though I consistently told them I was married, I was always marked as a single mother. My husband was referred to as a deadbeat man ("Why isn't the father involved in your life anymore?" "...Ummm... he is, and he's my husband." "Okay, so single mother, go on...") At those moments, nothing matter. Not the expensive clothes I had hanging in my closet, or my degree that it took painstaking years to attain in December 2008. To them, I was just another Black single woman who couldn't learn to close her legs and wanted to live off of the system.

Hating how I'm treated I refuse to stay on this jagged ground of impoverishment. Constantly looking for ways to start my ascent, I reject how the world sees me and I have to reestablish to myself who I am. As my husband and I start our climb up the social ladder, I'm prepared for the struggle. But if I ever get back to the point that I was, I REFUSE to let my careless spending lead us to a leap into indulgence that ends in a plummet into debt.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Que Un-Sera-tain

2011-06-20T13:23:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

When I was just a little girl I asked my mother what will I be. Here’s what she said to me: “Kendra, I don’t know. I’m in the middle of cooking breakfast, and you’re in the way of me finishing these biscuits…” As the record screeched to a halt in my head, and I moved out my mother's way so she can finish kneading the dough to make her delicious homemade biscuits (that she conveniently stopped making when the Pilsbury company made their frozen biscuits in a bag), I always wondered why she couldn’t answer my question. I always figured that maybe I picked the wrong time. So, after the biscuits were made, the breakfast was eaten, and she started washing the dishes, I would go and repeat my question to her. In vain, I always got the same answer: “Kendra, I don’t know…”

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been a planner. My days would be planned down to the second and no matter where I would go I would always make sure I had a good escape route in case someone decided to pull a Pulp Fiction and attempt to rob the place (if my escape route was inaccessible then I always made sure I had the option of bursting through the window like the Kool-Aid man and go running down the street). However, ever since I graduated college I’ve learned that planning wasn’t a sure guarantee that life would go as I intended.

Whenever these revelations appeared to me, instead of trying to just relax and let the waters of life drift me in the way that it was leading me, I would panic, tense up and feel like I was drowning in the current. Since having my daughter my mother calls me daily; and as the habit I ingrained in myself as a little girl would appear, I ask my mother for advice for the future. “What type of mother do you think I will be? What will I do if my daughter hates me? Hey, Kayleigh does *insert innocuous behavior here,* do you think that means she’ll be *insert completely unrelated annoying adult trait* when she gets older?” With unbelievable patience my mother would say for the umpteenth time: “Kendra, no one knows the future. You just need to be patient. Whatever will be will be.”

Each morning while I try not to freak out about the uncertainties my life is facing now as a wife, mother, and publicist (Prioritybooks Publications, check us out!!) I’ve realized that I started singing “Que Sera” to my daughter as I feed her. Even though I’m beginning to transition into singing the “Dayman” song from “Its Always Sunny in Philadelphia” to her now, I hope that Que Sera’s lyrics are ingrained in her head. That way, when she gets older and I inevitably ask her where her life is heading, she will look at me and say: “Mommy, whatever will be will be…”

This week, let's discuss!!

Stay Encouraged!!

Lies My Pregnancy Book Told Me

2010-09-20T09:23:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

If there has ever been anything that's consistent with me, it's the fact that I'm a planner. I've been a planner my entire life. As crazy and neurotic as this sounds, the first thoughts that go through my head the MOMENT I wake up is: "Okay, so what do I have to do today? When can I do it?" Then, I break everything down by the time that it could possibly be broken down, and then prioritize it, and set it up by hours. For example: Breakfast from 9:00-9:30, showering 9:45-10:15, editing blank's assignment 10:30-12:00, lunch 12:30-so on. So, these are the crazy thoughts that go through my head, but it's so natural to me. Then, to top it all, I also factor in 28% of human error in my planning (what if I oversleep my alarm clock? What if Ed wants a big breakfast? What if I get sidetracked from that America's Next Top Model episode that I taped on my DVR?). I do all this to give me leeway so I'm never too caught off guard.

So, the moment I found out I was pregnant, I called my sister Amber. Amber, whose ADORABLE baby boy is about to turn one in about a month seemed like the perfect candidate for questions as I was preparing to go through this large change in my life. I got even more excited when she sent me a pregnancy book that she told me really helped her plan.

The moment I got the book in the mail, I opened it up like it was a gift on Christmas day, and started reading it ferociously. Hanging out with Ed, I was listening to him (kinda sorta) and reading. Talking to my mother, yep, I was reading. Watching America's Next Top Model? I'm sorry Tyra, but teaching girls how to "Smize" isn't helping me to push a baby out my woo-haa, ya know what I'm saying?! So, EVERYTHING came second place to that book, and I read it repeatedly to make sure that I got all the information down correctly. However, when began to go through things that only pregnant women went through, I WAS PISSED!!!

I did all this reading, all this planning, all this mental preparation, and I was SOO unprepared for my symptoms!! I wasn't expecting to feel so tired that standing up now seemed like an extreme sport to me!! I didn't realize that showering was going to now become painful because of the water pressure on certain... mammary appendages... Who knew that unlike swimming, I had to wait FOUR HOURS to lay down after eating, because even THIRTY MINUTES before that could cause me to run to the bathroom vomiting?!?! Oh, and the vomiting... WHO KNEW YOU COULD BURST FIVE BLOOD VESSELS FROM THE PRESSURE AND STRAIN THAT ALL THAT VOMITING PUT ON YOUR EYES?!?!?!?! Eyes bulging out, like I'm a character from "Reefer Madness..." ARE YOU KIDDING ME, PREGNANCY?!?!?!

Regardless, no matter how unprepared this... [expletive] book got me, I'm still happy that I'm going through these changes. As bizarre as pregnancy can be (me three weeks ago: "period of renewed health my [expletive]...") I know that life needs a larger percent of human error factored in than I could EVER plan.

This week, let's discuss!!

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

That Perfect Connection with an Imperfect Person

2010-09-17T10:16:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

It's very hard to explain when you feel like you have found that perfect person, for the small fact that there are NO perfect people. No matter who is in your life, that person runs the gambit of disappointing you, from parents, siblings, friends, and significant others. After seeing so many of the people that are close to me being hurt by people who claimed that they loved them, I started thinking: "Why in the crap am I going to do that for?! A guaranteed hurt...? SCREW THAT!!" So, for years I resolved to think that in the future, it would be me, my adopted Cambodian daughter (little girls in Cambodia sometimes get sold into prostitution in childhood by their parents because poverty is epic there) and my cute little cat in my nice big New York loft.

For years I would get into relationships with guys fully knowing that I didn't love them, I never was going to, and I would NEVER walk down the aisle with them. Some would propose marriage, and some would declare love, and I wouldn't know what to say, so I reciprocated, thinking that one day, maybe I could learn to love them... or at the very least, tolerate them for the rest of my life. But, I knew that when all was said and done, it would be me, that Cambodian little girl, and a cat by ourselves, very happy. Honestly, I just didn't think that there was anyone out there for me, and I was fine with that.

My friends and family members used to try to convince me, "NO!!! THERE'S SOMEONE THERE FOR YOU!! HE'LL FIND YOU!!! DON'T WORRY!!" But the thing was, I wasn't worried. I was happy being single, and no one could tell me otherwise. Each relationship I previously was in ended, and one ended with me in therapy for emotional issues and an eating disorder, so why would I ever think that relationships worked? I knew that true love existed, I just thought that it didn't exist for me, and I was FINE WITH THAT!!

At the time I first became knowledgeable about my future husband, I thought nothing about him. I work as a publicist and book editor for Prioritybooks Publications, located in St. Louis, MO. I was living in Minnesota working another job, but doing freelance things for Prioritybooks. I was writing press releases and back covers at the time, and my husband and his aunt just released their second joint book "Caught in the Net of Deception." His aunt, the CEO emailed the book to me so I could read it and write an accurate press release for it. I read it, wrote the press release, emailed it back, and thought nothing of the young co-author.

When I moved back home, my publishing boss got me another job, on top of publishing that put me and my husband together (the afterschool job). On my first day, I had to interview my husband for a newspaper article I had to write on him to get more publicity for his latest book. The interview turned into a conversation, and I had fun talking to him. On our way to work, we continued our conversation, but I still didn't think too much about it though.

During our free time he would ask me things about myself, and, like this blog, I was completely open. Offering information about myself that could potentially drive him away. Letting my skeletons out my closet, removing bandages off of my wounds, and releasing all negative thoughts that still haunted my mind. Sure that all of this over share would scare him away, he kept on coming, asking more, and we continued to talk.

As I continued working at that school, and the people I worked with continued to be conniving and backstabbing, I felt like more and more of my negative side was coming out of me. You couldn't have told me otherwise that he wasn't going to run in the opposite direction!! But, on the contrary, he continued to run towards me.

After a while, I was TERRIFIED!!! Why wasn't he running?! Why didn't he just use me for my money?! The girl next door with the stupid glasses that begged for me to smack them off of her face seemed so desperate to be with him, why not just go with her?! Didn't he see me for who I was?! All the cracks, and jagged edges?! Didn't that scare him, and why in the heck not?!?! I began to realize that I was beginning to like him a lot, and that meant that he could hurt me, and if he did, could I recover? No one has ever affected me the way he did, so I wouldn't know how to handle him disappointing me,

One day, while talking to my sister Kelli on the phone about it, she told me: "You know, the same way how he has the potential to hurt you, you have that same possibility. You're not perfect, and you've hurt people too." For some reason, that really helped to alleviate some of my fears. As I knew that I was falling in love with him (how cheesy does that sound?!), what if I did something? What if I let him down?! What if a facet of my personalty shows that he wasn't expecting, and it hurt him?! I ran that same gambit.

Even today, every now and then I would get scared that he could hurt me, and the marriage could fail. I worry about letting him down, and not being able to be with someone I feel like I can't live my life without, even though I've lived soo many previous years without him. I'm terrified of being so vulnerable, and thinking that at any time it could be used against me.

But I learned that like my blog, no matter how many times I re-read, and edit (even though I'm slowly being known as a top book editor in St. Louis, thank you very much) there will always be mistakes. Cracks in the veneer to prove how imperfect I am, even though I try to be as immaculate as possible. Through it all, I still have people to read the blog, and I still have my husband. Imperfections and all. As we both try not to hurt each other, we both love those imperfections the other has, and that makes our connection the only perfect thing in my life.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

See you Monday!!

It Couvade Happen to You

2010-09-16T16:22:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

If there is something that I cannot stand, it is when a person is being talked about because of his/her physical attributes. If you sit there and really listen to people and when they verbally attack someone, they'll usually go after something that the defensive person can't help. Now, if they were to talk about a person's hygiene, or inability to match clothes, okay. It's still immature, but that's something a person can help. They can wake up earlier, brush and floss their teeth a little better, and try to avoid mixing stripes with plaid. However, making fun of a person about their skin color, facial formation, or weight can trigger something in me.

Now, this is probably all attributed to the fact that I am a recovering bulimic (two years going strong!!). It really didn't seem that long since I was binging and purging, and when I was, everyday seemed like an eternity. I used to wait and pray for the hours to go by, because the more time I was conscious, the more I was aware of the way I was harming my body.

Even though that was a very difficult moment in my life, I successfully overcame it, and not only do I have someone who loves me in any capacity, I now love myself. Pregnancy also helps with this transition, because I know that anything that I do now affects my baby, so that helps out a lot when I try on clothes that no longer fit, thanks to my growing body.

However, my body's not the only one that's growing. My husband is going through sympathy pains, or technically known as "Couvade Syndrome." Couvade syndrome can make men go through symptoms that are similar to their pregnant mates'. Those symptoms can vary from emotional pains, irritability, nausea, and weight gain. My lover is suffering from the last symptom, however, every single person we know keeps on pointing it out to him.

Whenever a person points out this perceived imperfection, I immediately get upset and want to point out their flaws. Being such an empathetic person immediately makes me put myself in his position and I begin to remember how I felt with people in my life began to point out my weight gain when it happened, which caused me to want to binge further.

Driving away from the imbeciles, I turn to my husband enraged and ask him if it bothers him. He usually laughs at me and tells me no. Regardless if it bothers him or not, it bothers me, and I find that I need to bite my tongue to not remind the perpetrators that they wouldn't be appearing in any fashion magazines anytime soon.

One day, while venting about it, Ed just turned to me and said something so simple, I felt like an idiot for not thinking of it. "Kendra, we eat a lot of fast food. I'm starting to gain weight, let's slow down on it." I realized at that moment that being mad at people for pointing out the obvious (I mean, COME ON, PEOPLE!!! PEOPLE KNOW WHEN THEY'RE GAINING WEIGHT, DON'T POINT IT OUT... JERKS!!), I'm just as culpable for suggesting fast food whenever I don't feel like cooking, or cleaning the dishes (because honestly, he cooks dinner, I just hate washing the dishes. Just keeping it real, ya dig?).

We've introduced a healthier eating style to ourselves (and the fetus, you're welcome, Baby), and started working out. Even though at this moment, my thighs still hurt from our two mile walk up and down some gnarly hills, I feel good knowing that my husband feels the same way he makes me feel everyday.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

A Prison Cell Built for Two

2010-09-15T17:23:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

As I mentioned in an earlier blog, when you get married, you have a chance to learn more about yourself within those first few years than you might have in any other moment. Now, that might not be true for others who are not married, or who might not ever plan to get married, but it is definitely true for me.

While in college I was a Sociology minor and felt like my eyes were opened to all the injustices in the world. Learning how the world sees people along the lines of race, social status, gender and sexual orientation infuriated me. I began to participate in protest rallies about these injustices, and I would find my views broadened with each demonstration I attended. I decided at that time to make sure that whenever I saw an injustice, I would speak up, or at least try to do something in my power to help. However, I learned while I was married that the ones you speak up for could run the gambit of being hurt.

My husband and I initially secretly eloped. One day when both of our families thought we were working, when we actually had an off day, we ran to the courthouse and got our marriage license. Thinking that once we had the license, we were officially married, we went out to dinner and then back to his grandmother's home to hang out. During the late hours of 10pm in the next night, my growing hunger craved a McChicken, and he and I jumped in the car to satisfy my craving.

While driving, I noticed that he kept on looking behind us. Ed and I come from different backgrounds. I used to live in an upper middle class house, where each lawn was full with lush foliage and you could see your neighbors jogging at all hours of the day and night. When at Ed's grandmother's the sounds of gunfire was normal, and after a while, it became normal to me. So, when we noticed that we were being followed by the State police, Ed immediately started saying; "They're about to pull us over." I looked at him, thinking that he was being paranoid and I remember thinking: 'Why would the cops stop us? We didn't do anything wrong.' Right when I was about to relay that message to him, the State Boys turned their lights on behind us.

Still thinking that they were just trying to get pass us to stop a crime that had to be going on I pulled over. Before I knew it I heard a loud, booming authoritative voice yelling: "TURN YOUR CAR OFF NOW!!" Panicked, I told Ed to hand me my purse, which was in the backseat. "DON'T YOU DARE MOVE!! LOOK STRAIGHT AND DON'T MOVE!!"

I was shocked!! Every time that I've had an interaction with the police, it was always pretty positive. I associated them with helping me to find my way when I was lost and temporarily living in North Carolina, having a drink with me at a bar in Minnesota, and waving at me while I went jogging in my parents' neighborhood. But, at that moment, while they came towards my car with their hands on their guns, I realized that helping me to satisfy my Mickey D's craving was the furthest thing on their minds.

Afraid that they were going to drag me out of the car and slam me on my pregnant stomach, crushing my developing baby, I decided to be as charming as I could. Smiling as they shone their flashlights in my eyes, they asked me to step out of the car. Trying to be as nice as possible I stepped out, with my smile frozen on my face. My sister was in town, so I dressed up because we went to dinner earlier. Feeling glad that I wasn't wearing my pajamas, and that I didn't fluff out my afro, the cops began to talk to me as if I was a person.

After complimenting me on my dress, and my Thelma-from-Good-Times "adorable" afro puff, within the same breath, they asked me where I was heading. I told them, and then one cop went to the other side of the car to where my husband was. Hand back on his gun, I heard him yell for him not to move, while the other cop guided me away from the car and whispered to me that I hadn't really been stopped for a traffic infraction, but that they were the State police, and were interested in narcotics and firearms. Thinking how nice he was for sharing something about himself and about to reciprocate ("Well, I like rainbows, and watching movies...") he ask me if he could search my car.

Looking at the tiny economy car I drive, and wondering how the cops could mistake that for an artillery shop on wheels, I got alarmed by seeing my new husband handcuffed. "Umm... Sir, what is going on?"

"It's just a precaution. May we check your car?"

Wanting to read him the riot act of racial profiling, demand his badge number, and go to the cameras that I am all too familiar are in cops' cars (from too many hours of watching "World's Wildest Police Videos") and give a speech about how police should be helping to make a neighborhood where gun fire is the norm better, rather than harass a couple heading towards a fast food joint, I just said: "Sure, Sir. Check my car."

I knew there was nothing in the car, but the only solution that I could think to get my husband out of his portable prison was to allow them to check my car. As they found nothing, they took the handcuffs off of him, told me to be safe with driving to McDonald's, but hinted to the fact that I probably wouldn't get stopped if my husband wasn't in the car, and they and their backup drove away ("Wait... when did that other police car get here?!")

I promptly dropped him off at his grandmother's, and went to fulfill me and my baby's craving. The rest of the night, we talked about it. Ed found it normal, siting other times he suffered this injustice, and laughing at it. Through my bites, I announced how upset I was, but realizing that if I would have acted any way other than courteous, he probably would have been in a jail cell.

As we continue to drive, and I notice cops getting very close to my car, entering in my license plates for ANY reason to pull us over, I still get upset. However, I know that my inner vigilante needs to rest, because by being quiet, I'm actually protecting my husband more than any words I could ever say.

STAY ENCOURAGE!!

Unlearned

2010-09-14T08:28:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

If you ever decide not to enter into the realm of marriage, or eternal union you will never have the full advantage of finding out just how weird you truly are. I got a glimpse of my own “uniqueness” when I went to college, and some things that were normal for some were foreign to me, or things that were so elementary to my sisters and myself, meant hours of explanations to others. But nothing can prepare you for the weird and “are-you-serious” looks you get from the person sharing the other side of the bed with you.

Things that you tend to do while you’re inside of your parents’/caregiver’s home is validated and normal, because everyone in your family does the exact same thing and typically holds the same views. Even if your parents differ on many opinions, like how my parents differ on political views and my father’s reluctance to use food that’s not name-brand (“It’s not real food!!”), my parents always agreed on the important things in raising their children.

The same is true for my husband and his family. However, the things that you learn and are brought up in as a child carries into your new combined home life. Not only that, but the person who you marry usually has worked through their old relationship baggage (if you’re lucky, I am!!) but you now have to deal with your new family’s baggage.

As my tendency to be a people pleaser now plays into my interactions with my new family, I find that sometimes I feel overwhelmed. Sometimes feeling the desire to say no, even though being pregnant now causes me to be so tired, crave my bed, but saying yes to something that puts me under a lot of physical and mental stress. Trying to ignore the feelings of frustration which comes with feeling as if no matter what condition I am in, some members of my husband’s family is still pressuring him to sometimes financially, or physically be places that are to the detriment of myself and his unborn child. The desire to want to say how these things bother me, but feeling silenced, because I am a new member to this union, and not fully feeling accepted from all.

Likewise for my husband who stays quiet when I am reluctant to drive long distances because my parents express the perils that my old car can bring, even though public transportation is not his forte. Or sitting at my parents’ kitchen table while I visit my family, and endure questionings about himself from my grandmother while she simultaneously falls asleep in the midst of talking and mispronouncing his name.

Regardless of it all, my husband keeps reminding me “you married me, not my family, and vice versa.” As my husband and I learn to make a new family of our own, and try to unlearn some of the frivolous lessons that our families have instill in us, we strengthen each other. However, we still find that we have to deal with certain idiosyncrasies, like my husband’s use of very precise microwave time (“put this in for one minute and thirteen seconds), or my ability to over-think the tiniest things, until we both learn to unlearn these tendencies, my husband and I just have to love each other, weirdness and all.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

The Adventures of Baby and Boo-Boo

2010-09-13T10:29:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

To be completely honest with you, the idea of marriage seemed as unattainable to me as winning a triathlon. Both of these feats seemed impossible to me, for my fear of being submerged but in two very different senses. I only have two big fears in my life, and those two were falling in love, and drowning. Both require a lot of trust in yourself, and your surroundings, a sense of letting go and knowing that there was no guarantee that things will go as you planned. Hoping that if you go too far deep, there could always be someone to pull you out, but as the five almost drowning events in my life proved, lifeguards aren’t always paying attention.

However, life delivered someone who made me want to forget about my fears, and dive in, head first, and cast all of my fears aside. But once I jumped into those waters, my normal fears surfaced, and I was worried that I would drown.

Though there's danger, I’ve been able to swim through the current-less kiddy pool and progress into tumultuous waves, and the man I fell in love with became my husband. But, as I continue to swim with him, feeling confident that he will be there to save me when I began to falter, or when my limbs feel too heavy to continue, we’ve come across multiple islands in our own personal ocean.

Marriage introduces you to a host of different events, that reveal more about yourself than you would ever know if you were not married. Things that seemed so normal to me, required explanations to my husband. His actions held so much logic to himself, but was fodder for a long stream of questioning from myself. As we approach each island, we continue to learn not only about ourselves, but how strong our bond is.

But as each island can feel me with a sense of overwhelming dread, hearing him call me “Boo-Boo,” and responding with “Baby?” helps me to know that nothing is unattainable for me. As I face my fears through this new transition of life, I realize that happiness is within grasp, as long with (at the very least) finally competing in a triathlon.

This week, let’s discuss.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

The Tests of the West

2010-08-13T08:14:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

I once learned in psychology that by the age of four a person has developed the main attributes of their personality. Meaning, that if a person is selfish at the age of four, by the age of 54 that person will probably still be selfish. Change is not an impossibility, but sometimes certain events in life leads a person to have to change. My life came across one of those events.

While still working West of the Mississippi, I came across a girl who had the ability to get under my skin better than a flesh eating bacteria. Before I came to the job, the man who now is my husband (yeah, I jumped the broom!!) was "talking" to her. When I first got the job, he was in the process of breaking it off, because it wasn't progressing anywhere. Before our friendship became a relationship, I decided to meet this girl who worked on the west side of the hallway.

The afterschool program I worked for didn't have a lot of people my age, besides my future husband. Still holding on to my college experiences I was excited to meet another young adult like myself at the school. Wide-eyed and bushy-tailed I introduced myself to her the moment we bumped into each other. I held out my hand for a handshake while exclaiming: "MY NAME IS KENDRA!!" She looked at my hand, looked at me, smirked and walked away.

Being the nice person that I am, I resisted the urge to yank her by her hair, and repeat myself, and instead gave her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she couldn't hear me. Maybe she's not used to shaking hands. Maybe she just sneezed and didn't want to share her germs with me. Maybe, I need to just count to ten, and do deep breathing exercises before I interact with her again... yeah, I'm gonna do that.

However, as the year continued to go on, her behavior became more rude. Then, when my future husband broke things off with her and he and I started dating, this girl started pursuing him like a person training for the Olympics. Now, they stopped "talking" because they weren't compatible, and she didn't seem to have anything to say to him. But when he and I started dating, all of a sudden she had so many things to tell him, or text him. I was dumbfounded.

I tried, once again to give her the benefit of the doubt and put myself in her shoes, but alas, as much empathy as I tried to give her, her horrible behavior and attitude continued to make me upset.

Being such a nice and friendly person, people assume that they can treat you any way they can, and you won't say anything. However, she got shut down by me and learned to watch her mouth. However, she wouldn't watch her behavior with my boyfriend and continued to pursue him.

I left it alone for a long time, laughing at her and her desperate tactics (rubbing on him: "I need some man-meat in my life," in her manly voice.) But as the months continued, I began to become more and more enraged. So much so that I actually began to become ill at night thinking about her and her disrespect towards me. Not only did I see this trick at my job, she was at my church on Sunday too, WATCHING ME!! With those STUPID glasses that I began to imagine flying off her face when I punched her.

I never felt so enraged before, and I became shocked at where my imagination would lead me, and how angry I felt. Never had my emotions felt so out of whack. To cope, I began to eat a lot, but it would never solve anything, except my growing hunger. One night, when I couldn't sleep and I began to vent and cry to my boyfriend about my frustration, he offered an option to why I was letting this insignificant whore affect me the way that she did.

The next day, everything became very clear to me. As I watched the results of my test appear in the window I understood why her behavior grated on my nerves to the point of no end. But, in that same sense, I realized that when that plus sign appeared, I could no longer be the person that I was, a person who would sometimes let her emotions rule her and act out of anger. Because at that moment, the person that I was became a protector, and I knew that my behavior, no matter how far to the west I had to be, had to come secondary to protecting the little life that was now growing inside of me.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

The Jungle West of the Mississippi

2010-06-04T09:22:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

As many of you know, I currently work two jobs located in St. Louis, Missouri. What you probably don't know is that St. Louis isn't just the home of the St. Louis Cardinals, Rams, Blues, Arch, casino boats, and thin crusted pizzas. No. St. Louis holds a jungle of characters who watch you, and pounce on your every move.

Now, this isn't the first time that I've held positions in St. Louis. As a matter of fact, with the exclusion of working in Champaign while I was in college, every single job I owned when I lived at home was in St. Louis. However, thinking back on it, I was surrounded by all Illinois people.

The job market is very thin for southern Illinois people, like myself, and just like the earlier pioneers, we have to venture west to find money and jobs. As I followed my own Manifest Destiny I discovered that west of the Mississippi River wasn't the Reconstruction Era that I hoped it to be. I found myself lost in the salvage folds of the "Lyon Jungle."

One of my many jobs was working at a middle school in St. Louis. Going into the job, my biggest worry was dealing with bad-butt kids. In all honesty my position was a glorified babysitter, and my worry was that the children were going to know that as well, and treat me accordingly. But, the kids were not the sore spot, as a matter of fact, I loved all those bad-butt kids, and I feel bad for not seeing them next year (FULL TIME JOB, AND MORE PUBLISHING, HERE I COME!!).

Standing on the edge of Pride Rock and looking at the Lyon kingdom below made me felt a sense of awe, and pleasure that I worked with amazing (but sometimes bratty and destructive) children. But, the elephant graveyard wasn't too far away, and hyenas were lurking in alcoves.

Before I knew it, every single move I made was watched and commented on. Bending down and looking in a mirror held a comment of "YES!! YOUR HAIR IS MESSED UP!!" Or addressing a child on a bad behavior and having my boss flat out tell one of the children, "Well, you need to ask someone that matters here..." Wearing clothes, just ANY clothes, lent itself to unwarranted come ons "Call me Daddy, and I'll unlock this door for you," and working with my boyfriend caused a lot of confusion (coworkers, and workers from other afterschool programs CONSTANTLY flirting with him, and asking him: "Would you consider cheating?")

At the beginning of my job, I used to get so excited. I would put on my newly bought "professional" outfit, fluff out my natural hair, and bounce all the way to work. Near the end, I couldn't stand it, and I found myself travelling westward into the elephant graveyard. After a while, I started commenting back. "YES!! YOUR HAIR IS MESSED UP!!" "Well, at least I HAVE enough hair to mess up..." "Call me Daddy, and I'll unlock this door for you..." "What if I call sexual harassment, Loser?" "Would you consider cheating?" "You are such a sad and desperate individual... I truly feel sorry for you..."

My travels through the jungles of Lyon ended due to summer vacation, but I am a smart enough explorer to know that this west of St. Louis is not where I needed to be. As a leopard cannot change its spots, it was foolish of me to believe that once people began to show their true selves to me, that I didn't have to believe it. People's environments definitely affect their behaviors, and I knew that staying in the jungle too long, was going to lead to hyena behavior in myself. Being in that jungle for the school was enough time for me, and I didn't need small pox blankets to lure me out of it.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Going West in Minnesota

2010-06-02T06:40:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

Please don't get me wrong, I'm not an overly aggressive person. If I go to an all you can eat buffet, and they're out of chicken wings I don't growl and start flipping tables over. I'm a pretty nice and logical person. However, my anger becomes a problem when I hold things in. Like anyone would learn in any type of anger management course, holding in anger is very unhealthy, and can lead to lashing out. As the years have gone by, I've done well with addressing problems as they come, to avoid having a lot of pent up anger. However, last summer was a little different.

Last summer I got a job as an administrative assistant at an all girls' summer camp in Minnesota. After applying for over 300 jobs (no joke), and beginning to feel like a loser with a degree, I was finally jazzed to get a position.

Since my bosses lived in St. Louis, one of them offered me a ride with her to Minnesota. For the 16 hour car ride, she and I talked. I never imagined feeling so at ease so quickly with a stranger, and before I knew it, I was sharing information with this woman that I only shared with my sisters. I felt like I was in a safe haven, a sanctuary that allowed me to be vulnerable, because hey, for 16 hours confined in a car, what else are you gonna do? Play license plate games?

Working in Minnesota started off well, I did my job, got along with my coworkers, and got free room and board. It wasn't until the same boss that drove me began to think that her son and I had an infatuation with each other.

Then, the boss that I shared all of my information with became so cold, and so unnecessarily malicious. I couldn't understand the sudden change in the demeanor, until I began to put all of the pieces of the puzzle together. As I noticed her change towards me, I also began to notice the poor treatment of the "support staff."

Now, don't get me wrong, if I had a daughter, and expendable dough, this would be a camp that I would send my child to. The campers, and the camp counselors had an AMAZING summer. But, most of the support staff (kitchen crew, maintenance, housekeeping, and me) found ourselves crying on a daily basis due to the mistreatment.

While one day being scolded for breaking a rule that was only thought of, never vocalized, I found that all that pent up frustration was beginning to take me back on the path of western expansion.

At the camp, for the staff that didn't have a car, we could rent vans. A friend and I decided to do laundry and catch a movie on our off night. However, other people signed up to be in our van, and we couldn't exclude them. No one had clearance to drive the van except for me. They were celebrating someones birthday, and wanted to go to multiple places. While doing my laundry, they ate, and before going to my movie, I took them to a bar. I gave them my cell number to call me whenever they were ready to leave. At the beginning of my movie, I was called to drop someone off. In the middle, I was called to pick someone up. Near the end, the bar was closing and I had to pick all the women up, and drop them back off. Pretty much, I spent over $10 to drive.

Now, this wasn't a problem for me, because I LOVED my coworkers, and I would do anything for them. I mean, "Transformers 2" would be out on bootleg anyway... ;-D

But, when my bosses saw the mileage, I was accused of being manipulative, and by taking advantage of the women. Confused, I just couldn't understand how me, not being able to fully go through the plans of MY night, could be accused of such a serious thing. Each person was charged for the mileage (.08 per mile, split between 8 people), and since I spent my entire night driving everyone else, everyone agreed that we'll just split the mileage equally, instead of cutting it off when I dropped this person this place, or took this person that place. When I explained this to my bosses, the boss that drove me from St. Louis to Minnesota, the one who I shared all this vulnerable information with, slammed her hands on the table, and began to yell at me. Calling me a "manipulative liar" and then, she ACTUALLY began to use some of the information I shared with her against me.

Before I knew it, I felt like I was at a buffet with no chicken wings. I wanted to flip tables over and karate chop some trees. So much pain and anger was built up in me, not just from that night, but from the unfair treatment of myself and staff. Having this woman have the audacity to say these things to me and about me was too much to handle. As she learned, it was too much for her, because the moment I stood up, and started yelling back, she quickly apologized.

The rest of my time there was spent in turmoil and distress, constantly wondering if I could make it to the end of the summer. I found myself going westward, and feeling myself revert back to my old angry ways. This was something I despised.

I made it all the way through the summer, and now a new summer session at that wretched camp is about to start. I'm working my publicist job now, and find myself infinitely happy. However, I think back on how my journey towards the north, eventually turned into a dwelling in the west.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

The Western Travels of the Eastern Native

2010-06-01T08:04:00.001-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

Since I've been gone for such a long time, I decided to start back off with an introduction to literary roots.

One of my favorite poems is "Luke Havergal," which is written by E. A. Robinson. Now, in all truth, the reason why this poem is my favorite is entirely based off of nostalgic purposes. "Luke Havergal" was one of the first poems I had to break down and find the subtext in my first English class in college. This poem cemented to me that being an English major was the correct path for me to go down.

Those of you who are not familiar with the poem, it is about a man who is being summoned by a voice to travel to the "western gate," telling him that the "dawn in the eastern skies" is gone. For those who weren't English majors, the Western Gate represents death, and the Eastern skies represent life (seeing that the sun sets in the west, and it rises in the east).

It wasn't until the last few months that the poem truly became very poignant to me, and held a closer significance that I would have ever imagined.

Through out the year, I dealt with a lot of irritating issues that caused me to want to wander back into the western part of my life. Before becoming a Christian and maturing, I dealt with a lot of anger issues and gang affiliations. I was constantly being warned by family members that if I didn't learn to control my anger, I would find myself in prison, or worse, in a wooden box at a young age.

Finally heeding to my family's warning, I decided to change, but like all addictions, there is a chance for relapses. This year, the threat of relapse was stronger than I ever felt, and I found myself leaving the safe comforts of the eastern sunrise, for the strong allure for the violent, yet familiar western sunset.

I never truly fell back into my old ways, but was very tempted to just slide a little, just to set a few things straight.

It wasn't until my cousin was brutally stabbed to death that I realized that life was too short to willingly go towards the West. This weekend, we finally buried him, and with that, I struggle to find my path back towards the Eastern skies.

This week, let's travel together.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Breaking the Shackles

2010-02-01T21:09:00.000-08:00

Dear Bloggers,

Happy February 1^st, and welcome back to my blog!! Now, February marks the start of Black History Month. As I look in the mirror, and see my proud heritage through my skin pigment, I am reminded of how far African Americans have come.

Along with pride, my reflection shows me a woman who still finds herself under captive, and like my forefathers/mothers, I crave freedom. Freedom from the petty things that keep me enslaved to worries and negativity.

Don’t get me wrong. My life is drastically different than it was not only the last time I blogged, but years ago. I’m currently in a relationship with a man that makes me crave to become a better person. I look at my boyfriend and see someone who is knowledgeable of life’s injustices, but doesn’t let them curtail him.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I do like my neuroses. I mean, if Woody Allen can prosper from his, why not keep mine? I’m just saying…

However, like my boyfriend, I would like to be able to put them into perspective. This week, I attempt to break the shackles that have kept me hostage for too long.

THIS WEEK, LET’S DISCUSS!!

Gazing Eyes

2009-09-14T11:01:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

When I arrived home from working at my job in Minnesota, the main thing that I heard from people was how good I looked. While working, I inadvertantly lost 20 pounds. I wasn't really working out, or really watching what I ate too much. I honestly think I lost the weight due to stress. However, it doesn't matter how I lost the weight, the important thing was, I had lost it, and boy was that all some people wanted to talk about. It was as if I had won a sweepstakes or something.

It wasn't "HEY!! You lowered your chances of diabetes!!" or "HEY!! Your heart is in good shape right now!!" It was all compliments based on physical attributes.

I'm not going to lie, those compliments do keep me getting up in the morning to run, and then cool down by walking to a store down the street from my house to get newspapers to do my publicist job. However, it does keep me wondering about the obsessions people have with the physical.

This week, let's discuss!!

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

The Threat, the FBI, and Tammi

2009-09-09T09:35:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

To me, I believe that humility is being able to place your pride aside and being able to help others, regardless of how you feel. I also believe that humility is a great indicator of what true friendship is.

My freshman year of college, I met a girl who became my best friend. Tammi and I always hung out together, and our sophomore year, we decided to be roommates. We figured that we would have a blast, and it would be a great transition for us. However, we didn't exactly make a good fit as dorm roommates.

Tammi is very neat, and focused. Whereas I'm a bit of a slob, and I need distraction to help me stay on track. Tammi I did have a lot of fun with each other that year, but we also found ourselves arguing alot as well.

The day after a particularly horrible fight, while walking home from class I called my sister to see how she was doing. I only got her voicemail. Resolved to use my cell phone minutes one way or another, I called my home to see what new was going on. My mother answered the phone frantic.

"KENDRA,-I-CAN'T-TALK-RIGHT-NOW!! -SOMEONE-JUST-THREATENED-TO-SHOOT-YOU-SISTER-WITH-A-GUN-ON-HER-COLLEGE-CAMPUS,-YOUR-FATHER-AND-I-ARE-TALKING-TO-THE-FBI!!- BLESSINGS-AND-FAVOR!!" *CLICK*

I stopped in the middle of the street, and traffic started to come. cars started honking at me, and drivers started yelling. A guy dragged me out the middle of the street as I looked stunned. I stood in front of my dorm, with my cell phone still in my hand and didn't know what to do. Horrible thoughts ran through my head: "Is she dead?! Is THAT why she didn't answer her phone?! What type of situation is this? Can I get to her school somehow? Should I call the school?"

I continued to call my sister, and kept on getting her voicemail. With each unanswered phone call, my heart sank a little bit lower, and I cried a little bit harder.

After walking aimlessly around my campus (because sitting around made me feel as if I was about to jump out of my skin), I ran into a friend. Like I was hypnotized I quickly explained my sister situation and kept on walking. Within five minutes, my cell phone was ringing, and I looked and it was Tammi. I answered my phone with a myriad of emotions running through me. I was still upset from the argument the night before, but I really needed one of my best friends.

"Kendra, where are you?"

"I'm at the Union."

"I'll be there in three minutes."

Two and a half minutes later, Tammi found me, and gave me a huge hug. The night before, we both said things that truly hurt each other, however, when Tammi heard what I was going through, she immediately put our argument aside and found me.

The gun threat turned out to be a hoax, but in the midst of the terrible tempest of emotion, I learned how much of an amazing friend Tammi is. Tammi and I still best friends, and we've had good luck being apartment roommates later on. But, I will forever be indebted to Tammi for showing me what a true friend is. Her amazing show of selflessness, in a time that I needed someone the most, cemented our friendship and taught me the true meaning of humility.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Running for Humility

2009-09-08T09:13:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

What would you consider to be your greatest test of success? For some, it's having that title of being number one. Others would consider that having genuine joy is their greatest feat of entitlement. But for some, I've realized that their greatest call to success is being able to beat someone else.

Now, I'm not speaking in the sense of competing in a race and winning, or being picked for a job over a list of other candidates. I'm talking about specifically picking a person and making it a goal to beat them.

I was watching an old episode of "Ren and Stimpy" where Stimpy had a fan club and began receiving letters telling him how he was their favorite, and they hated Ren. ("What is he, some type of mosquito?")

For Ren to deal with his feelings of inadequacy, he decided to become Stimpy's Fan Club President. However, that just impacted his feelings, and almost drove him to insanity (and murder... should I have been allowed to watch this as a child...?)

This made me think of instances in my own life where I was put in a position of being around someone who made me feel insecure, or vice versa. I remember staying up late in college looking for obscure quotes from anyone, Nietzsche, Marx, Shakespeare, John Lennon, Bugs Bunny, just to one up this guy who would smugly answer every question the professor said with: "Well, as Robert Frost said..."

I remember in high school girls telling me how they were going to get hair extensions and "it's going to be so much longer than your's." I'm sorry, but when did we start competing? Can I at least stretch first?

It wasn't until I realized that the time I spent to one up certain people in my life, could be used for so many other important things. I decided that instead of seeing this person as a threat, to see them as inspiration to better myself. When I made that decision, I was able to focus more on where I needed improvement. In class, I focused more on what the teacher said, and my own obscure and "deep" quotes and comparisons came much more naturally.

So to you, dear readers, you will always find someone who could challenge your position as top dog in one aspect of your life. However, if you focus more on encouraging yourself, instead of trying to beat the person next to you, you could still win the race your running.

Humility, it's like Gatorade, but for the soul.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

The Heart of Humility

2009-09-07T08:41:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

Happy Labor Day, and welcome back!! I thank you all very much for having a lot of patience with me while my relationship with my blog teetered due to work. I truly appreciate it, and I thank ALL of you who decided to give me another chance!! To show you just how much I appreciate you all coming back, I’ve brought you something, A NEW TOPIC!!

I moved back home, and finally got a job in publishing. However, with this move came the fact that I had to resubmit myself to the law of my parents. Having my job, and feeling as if I was a grown woman was always fleeting whenever I had to ask my parents for rides to places (because I’m saving up for a car… and a studio apartment in New York City… whichever one comes first is fine with me).

The transition living back home has been admittedly difficult, due to the fact that I feel as if my parents treat me as if I was still in high school, rather than the college graduated, Corporate America working vixen I have become. I was very used to living in a world that whenever I wanted to go somewhere I could, and didn’t have to explain where I was going, who I was going with, how did I know this person, how long was I planning on being out, and why did my head just explode? This has caused tension between my parents and myself, so whenever there’s an opportunity to leave the house, I jump on it like a grasshopper.

This weekend, my friend Jocelyn and I decided to go to a street wide celebration in St. Louis. My alma mater (University of Illinois in Urbana-Champaign) played the Missou Tigers. Jocelyn and I decided to go, at the last minute. While she lives very close to where the celebrating was going down, I had to vie for a ride from my father to take me to the metrolink station.

When my father dropped me off, he made note of a man standing in front of the station, and told me to watch out for him. After rolling my eyes and feeling frustrated that my father doubts my abilities to take care of myself, I got out the car. My father then proceeded to speed off, to catch a tennis match that he was late for. The moment I stepped towards the station to buy my ticket, the mysterious man mumbled something at me: “Ma’am… please call for an ambulance, I think I might be having a heart attack.”

“WHAT?!” I immediately looked back to where my father’s car used to be, and I realized that he was long gone. Time was critical and I needed to do something to help save his life, so I did the only thing I could think of. I asked stupid questions. “What’s the number for an ambulance?!”

“9-1-1.”

“Oh, yeah…”

I called 9-1-1, and proceeded to answer all of the questions for the man, and then after getting very overwhelmed, I just handed him my cell phone, and proceeded to look aimlessly while he described his history of having a bad heart to the 9-1-1 operator. I frantically looked for an ambulance, and listened for a siren that I was sure to come, but never did while I was there.

After he gave me back my phone, and the operator hung up on me, I stood stunned. I looked at the man expectantly. Was his heart going to jump from his throat? Was I supposed to stay there with him? Should I elevate his feet? Should I give him ice chips? Where in the CRAP do I get ice chips at a metrolink station?!!

After a few awkward seconds, I guess the man got tired of me staring at him like he was in a sideshow at a carnival, and politely told me to go away (“Ma’am… I don’t need you anymore. Thank you for helping me, but you can go ahead and catch your train.”)

As I waited for my train to come, I couldn’t help but think about my first reaction, to have my father save the day. I immediately realized that I wasn’t as adult as I thought I was. A strong sense of humility covered me like a wet blanket, and I began to feel as if I was a little girl again.

Humility can be a tough thing to handle, especially when you’ve convinced yourself that you already know all the answers. However, on the other hand, humility could be something to help liberate you from your ignorance and enhance your growing abilities. Regardless, you’re never too young, or too old (like I painfully realized) to receive a lesson that humbles you. When that lesson comes, will you be a willing student? This week, LET’S DISCUSS!!

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

"Call Me Up, Kendrick..."

2009-07-09T07:53:00.001-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

There are many things in life that should take a natural priority over others. For me, I was always taught that whenever my superiors (parents, bosses, managers) asked me to do anything, for me to drop whatever it is I'm doing and complete their task immediately. However, there are times when we allow things like pain, and anger to make us ignore those priorities. As petty as this action is, it's still very common.

Growing up in Alabama, the man who moldested me was a close friend of my family, particularly my grandmother. When I got older and started thinking about it, I began to feel angry with everyone in my family, especially my grandmother. I felt like someone should have noticed that maybe I wasn't as happy, or that I would just burst into tears randomly. Someone should have acknowledged my "random" angry fits, and the isolation I would put towards my family, but the extreme bonding I did with anyone who was not related to me.

I held on to that anger up until my junior year of college. At that same time, my grandmother became very ill. My parents would call me constantly to tell me to call her, because she wanted to hear from me.

My dear grandmother, the same woman who nicknamed my "Kendrick" just wanted to hear my voice, but I was still upset with everything from the past that I kept on putting it off. I felt myself frustrated whenever my mother called to remind me. It got to the point that I would actually toss my phone on the bed muttering under my breath "I'm not about to call that woman."

About forty minutes before I decided to call one day, my mother called me.

"Mommy, PLEASE don't say anything to me, I'm about to call her RIGHT now-"

"Kendra, your grandmother died."

I sat up in my bed, cross legged, and felt like all the color in my room had instantly turned an extremely technicolored brightness. I felt as if I couldn't see anything but red, blue, and beige. My lungs over filled with air, and the only thought in my mind was me rejecting to call her. The amount of guilt I've felt over the last fear years is not anything that I could put into words.

I later on began to realize that if my grandmother really did know, she would have stopped it while it happened. She didn't know, and neither did my parents, sisters, or anyone else. I realized then that my main priority in life is to learn how to accept people for their mortality, and work on my forgiveness.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Who's the Boss?

2009-07-08T07:17:00.001-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

As discussed yesterday, we've acknowledged that no one likes to be corrected. However, what do you do when the correction you want to make is about you? Then, to add a bigger twist to it, the people you desperately want to correct are your bosses? Then, for the de nu moi, if you correct them or not, your job is still in jeopardy? Dear Readers, how do you combat your feelings of priority in a situation like that?

Recently I was put in a very similar situation. During an evaluation, I've addressed two of my bosses about their perceptions of me. They addressed their concerns, but then also alerted me to a falsehood that they thought was true.

I took a phone message, and taped it to one of my bosses door frames (our standard protocol). Later on that day, the message was taken down, meaning that someone read the message. Assuming that it was one of my bosses, I left it alone. However, my bosses claimed that not only did they never get the message, I never wrote one down.

Not being an argumentative person (anymore), I felt like I had to defend my work honor. I did write the message down, and taped it up. My bosses denied this claim by saying that they checked our phone call log carbon copies and they could see that I didn't write it down (and lied about it).

I began to feel confused at that time, because I know, without a doubt that the message was written, but I didn't want to argue with my bosses. Even though what they thought was wrong, they didn't want to be corrected. I was at a crossroads, dear readers, and the things up for crucifixion were my job, or my dignity. Which do you choose?

I chose to push my dignity off the cliff, and just shut up. I listened to my bosses tell me how because of that one incident, they questioned my work ethic. With a closed mouth, I endured while my character was drug in the mud, and feeling helpless knowing that the possibility of this being erased from their minds was slim.

The very next day, looking back through the phone messages carbon copies, I found the message I wrote down. It had my handwriting, the date, the time, and my initials.

People really do not like to be corrected, but in that moment in time, I felt that I did not need the validation of my bosses. During that time of evaluation, I began to bring myself down, and questioned my abilities in my job. At the moment I found that copy, I reminded myself that not only do I do my job, but I do it well.

I never showed my bosses the carbon copy, in hopes of not seeming petty. But, every single day, I work hard to not only prove to them, but to reinforce to myself that I'm not the incompetent person they think I am. I might not have fully convinced them yet, but I smile every single time I surpass their expectations.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

By Golly Your Right, Alright!!

2009-07-07T10:08:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

On Saturday, me and many people celebrated America's Independence Day. Even though that was a few days ago, I'm still in celebration mode. Why, might you ask? I've been liberated from something other than England Rule, yes my friends, I've been given my freedom from pettiness!!

Oh, pettiness, that thing that causes you to want to one-up a person, constantly correct them, and prove your own superiority over others, while simeultaneously showing everyone what a jerk you are. What causes this? What makes a semi-normal person replace their priorities with wanting to correct miniscule things over the more important things?

I've witnessed someone who didn't realize that their job was in jeporady due to their need to constantly correct people in a disrespectful and consdscending way. I've watched people didn't realize why a friendship ended, and didn't realize that it was due to their constant finger pointing. My heart would go out to people who didn't realize that their lives were in danger, because a group of people was about to beat the crap out of them due to their nagging.

I've learned a few years ago that a lot of people don't like to get corrected. But if you do it in a disrespectful way as well, that could cause you to lose so much.

Growing up, I always felt insecure when being compared to my sisters. They were all extremely bright, and always made good grades in school. Then, there I was, with buck teeth, ashy skin, a huge butt, and a speech impediment. No one wanted my opinion on anything, because when you have a speech problem, people tend to think you have a learning disability as well. When I started getting older, got my stuttering under control, and discovered lotion and vaseline, I felt the constant need to prove myself. I would find myself reading all types of statistics, and doing research on popular topics. That way, whenever anyone asked a question about anything, I could finally have an intelligent thing to say, that was backed on facts. However, a lot of people didn't like how I displayed my hard-earned knowledge.

One day in my sophomore year of college, my roommate and best friend Tammi and I were watching TV and relaxing. She made a comment about why a character behaved the way that he did, and before I knew it, a fountain of information about the character, common psychology traits for men in the ages between 24-37, and societal issues that reinforced his behavior came spitting out of my mouth. Once I was done, Tammi just looked at me and said: "Kendra, why do you do that? I already know that you're smart, you don't have to try to prove it so much."

That comment made me stop and realize what I was doing. Under the guise of a college student, I was still the dry-skinned, stuttering little girl I was years ago, who had important things to say, but couldn't have people listen to her.

After that, I've decided to calm down on my petty corrections, and my one-upping. I still do my research (I was a Sociology minor, what do you expect?), but I only offer my opinion if asked.

Now, whenever someone says something miniscule that is wrong, I'll let them be. There's no need to correct a person over something that will be forgotten in the next few seconds. At the same token, I make sure that I work on myself, celebrate my independence and make sure that my information is intact. I hope the same for all of you.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

P.S. For those who are still struggling with the corrective pettiness, the misspellings in the title were purposeful. Try a little harder next time, I know you'll get it!! :-)

DON'T CALL IT A COMEBACK...

2009-07-06T11:25:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

HELLO!! I’m very sorry I had to take an unexpected hiatus, and couldn’t alert you to my absence. The hiatus (and its length) was a surprise to me as well. However, that should no longer be an issue. How, you ask? “Isn’t that the same thing she said last time?” Well, I was able to solve my issue that caused me to not write as frequently as I used to. What’s that solution? Well, I got fired from my job. JUST KIDDING!! I didn’t get fired, but an event happened that helped me to get my priorities together.

One of my co-workers and friends sat around talking. I was expressing to him about my desires to be able to write to all of you wonderful bloggers, and how because of the intense work schedule that I’ve adapted has caused me to turn down a few freelance writing jobs. My new buddy looked at me, and said: “Kendra, it’s all about you. If it’s something you really want to do, I know that you can find an opportunity to do it. During your breaks, during the down times at the office, grab a scrap sheet of paper and write. I know you love to write, so do it.”

After the encouraging words of my friend, it made me think about my priorities. Now readers, how many times are we sitting around doing nothing when we could be accomplishing our dreams? Moving mountains, and being a positive force in others’ lives? I thought about how I stayed up one night until 3:00 in the morning to straighten my hair. There was no emergency for straightened hair. My bosses didn’t threaten my job unless I straightened every single curly strand. So why was I willing to make a time sacrifice for something I washed out a day later, and not for something that I want to do as a career and for the rest of my life (that is until I join Cirque du Soleil….one day….)?

Well, this week we’ll be discussing this, while simultaneously keeping my bosses and myself happy. Thank you for your patience with me, and bloggers, I’ll see you tomorrow morning!!

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

When Good Birds Go Bad

2009-06-24T08:05:00.001-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

I once heard that there are three sides to every story; one person’s perspective, the second person’s, and the truth. Now readers, how many times have you been sitting around, had a friend come into the same area that you were in and give you the silent treatment? Confused, you confront them, and they say: “You know what you did!!” When rethinking about the situation, you remember your friend being in the wrong, not you. Then, YOU get defensive and begin to get upset. You’re poor mutual friends don’t know which way to go, because both of you have very legitimate reasons for your anger. But, there seems to be something that’s missing, an integral part of the story that makes each side stick together to reveal that it was all a big error.

I’ve had this happen to me many times in my life, but I’m going to share the most ridiculous one. It was all a big misunderstanding, but they didn’t want to listen to reason…

One morning during the summer going into my freshman year of college I was awoken by the beautiful sounds of a bird singing on my window ledge. Feeling extremely blessed that this bird picked my windowsill, I woke up feeling refreshed and happy. I felt even more uplifted when her husband joined her the next day or so, and they started building a nest on my ledge. As I witnessed their eggs appear in the nest, I felt as if I was a distant family member with this bird family.

One afternoon, there was a horrible storm, and the next morning, I found that the bird’s nest was no longer outside my window. Feeling a little sad that the storm took the birds away, I discounted it and returned to my passion of watching television. However, the birds came back…

The birds began attacking me and my family, and actually holding us hostage whenever we tried to leave (*opening the garage door, and seeing one of the bird’s shadow hopping in front of the door, just waiting…*). They began diving after us, and they actually CHASED ME down the street!! I could see why they were so upset, but they couldn’t comprehend that the storm was the reason for their abortion, not me.

Right when my family and I thought that we would be prisoners in our house for the rest of the summer, the birds committed suicide!! SERIOUSLY!! Those kamikaze birds did a straight nose dive into the ground, breaking their own necks.

Now, due to the wrong misperception of that bird family, I can’t stand any birds now… unless their cooked on my plate.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Lying Eyes

2009-06-22T11:04:00.001-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

A few years ago, there were very few people who truly knew me. People knew the Kendra-persona I put on, the happy-go-lucky girl. The one who was always smiling, and never seemed to have a bad thing to say. No one really knew how unhappy, or angry I was deep inside. About four years ago, I slowly began telling my family about my secret, dolorous, and angry second life, and they looked completely dumbfounded. My father: "I can't believe this, you were always such a happy child!!" Me: "Didn't you used to wonder why sometimes I would burst into tears for no reason... well..."

This week's discussions are going to be on perceptions. People tend to look at things and people are a superficial level. Looking at a tree, it might look mighty and strong, but the inside could be rotting and almost hollow. The same goes for people. The person who is laughing, and being the center of attention could feel like the loneliest person once he/she goes into the room at night, and shut the door.

This week, let's discuss!!

Diving In

2009-06-19T14:12:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

There are very few things that scare me. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not totally fearless, and I’m easily startled (my fight or flight reflexes are constantly on alert). But there are two things that seriously causes me extreme anxiety and the thought can bring me to tears.

The first thing is DEEP water. When I was in seventh grade I took swimming lessons, and while trying to learn to do a dive, I started drowning. If you thought that that was the end of my drowning escapades, then you would be wrong. I almost drowned a total of five times. Due to those moments, I have an extreme fear of deep water. So, I stay in the shallow end of pools, lakes, and oceans.

The second thing is dating. Now, I’ve never had this fear before, but after my last relationship (which ended with me having an eating disorder and going to therapy), I’ve also found myself staying in the shallow end of the dating pool as well. But, it’s not only that relationship, but the molestation I dealt with when I was younger, or a HORRIBLE thing an “ex” did to me after we broke up (he was the first person I told about being molested, so when we broke up, he not only told everyone in his class, he also told me that I was “a slut, and that’s why you got molested”). Then, on top of all of that, I’ve witnessed people close to me have their significant others cheat on them, or beat them, or viciously verbally abuse them.

Now, whenever I feel myself becoming attracted to a guy, I feel myself experiencing panic attacks and second guessing everything. There’s a fear of “what type of dudes do I attract?” “What if it’s worse than before?” “What if I can’t get out?”

I stand out on the docks of the lake and life while my friends try to encourage me, with promises of: “This time it’ll be different. Just jump in, and you’ll be fine” However, that fear leaves me paralyzed, wanting to trust them, but still unsure of what diving in would mean for me.

Just like the beautiful HUMONGOUS lake that finalizes the scenery around my job, I look at it and dating with a combination of desire and fear. The desire of wanting to jump in, experience those blissful first days of getting to know someone. Spending time with someone and realizing all the interesting things you have in common. Swimming in those feelings of first attraction and succumbing to the waves of realization that you’re not just physically attracted to this person, but you’re attracted to their personality as well. Kicking through the tumultuous times, and overcoming the ebb to realize that not only you, but your bond is strong than it was when you first started.

Everyday, while I walk to the office, I look at the water, a sense of longing in my eyes, thinking that one day, I will conquer my fear. One day, I’ll be able to let those past incidents be just that, past incidents that doesn’t necessarily dictate my future. In the same sense, I have the same hopes of dating. One day, I’ll be able to dive in, not only in the water, but in love, with the trust that the water/ my boyfriend will catch me, comfort me, soothe those fears, and reassure me that this time, I won’t go under. Until then, I’ll work on moving from the shallow end.

STAY ENCOURAGED, AND HAVE AN AMAZING WEEKEND!! SEE YOU ALL MONDAY!!

The Adventures of the Fear-Eaters

2009-06-18T11:22:00.001-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

Everyone reacts to fear differently. There are some people who run from it. Others might feel enthralled by it. Then, there are people who seem to feed off it. I like to refer to these people as "Fear-Eaters." It's as if they have an insatiable hunger for other people's fear and they must feed. Like a dog in heat, they find someone who they can easily intimidate to feed their own egos while destroying others.

I'm a reformed bad girl. The person I was years ago is not the same woman I am now. Instead of being overly aggressive, I've turned passive. I try not to sweat the small stuff, but it's a little strange when a Fear-Eater attempts to intimidate me. People believe that if you're passive, then you're weak. Girls with their catty attitudes will approach me, looking for a feed, and then sadly leave not only hungry but a few inches shorter. ("Are you kidding me? I used to carry razor blades in my teeth, your little stare isn't doing anything. Please be gone...")

So, to you, dear readers, while you walk down the street, in your office, or in the supermarket, beware of these insecure, ego maniacal, hungry Fear-Eaters. But, just remember, if you don't feed them, then they won't come back.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!
*Sorry for a lack of a post yesterday!!*

S-U-C-C-E-S-S Spells Fear

2009-06-16T10:27:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

Success seems to be the ultimate landmark for many, the ulitmate form of immortality. But for some, even though they crave success, they also fear it. With the ultimate contradiction of human nature, many people sit on talents, and great ideas in fear of "What if it ACTUALLY works?"

My buddies, I have to admit, I sometimes have this fear too. I find myself hesitating, on ideas (it took me months to even start this blog, because of fear of no one reading it, or worse, EVERYONE reading it) or people (making new friends, or dating). There's a never ending paradox that runs through my head sometimes of "What ifs."

"What if I fail? Will people be expecting it? Will people look down on me? What if I'm not as good as I thought I was? What if he hurts me? What if I hurt him?"

Then, my questions of: "What if it DOES work out? Could I handle all of it?" This constant form of questioning put me in the mindset of Sisyphus. Constantly rolling a boulder up a hill, just so it can roll back down again.

I'm beginning to get to the point where I see how ridiculous constantly rolling a boulder up the same hill is, and I decided that I was going to roll it past the precipice. Do I still have the fear of failing AND succeeding? OF COURSE!! But now, my fear is being immobile. Stuck like Atlas, carrying the worries of my world on my shoulders.

Well readers, instead of being immobilized by my fear, I started to become empowered by it. My hope is that you can all do the same.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

A Deer In Headlights

2009-06-15T10:57:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

This week’s discussions will be on fear and the resulting emotional and physical paralysis that comes along with it. Now, Bloggers, fear affects others differently. When I was younger, on my family’s weekly movie night we watched “Child’s Play.” Everyone else found it hilarious, but me, I almost wet my pants while watching it. After that, I was positive that Chuckie was hiding in the bathroom, which lent itself to some actual pants wetting action. I couldn’t use the toilet until I looked behind the shower curtain, under the cabinets, in the back of the toilet, everywhere.

Even though I’m no longer afraid of Chucky, due to the habit of my fear, I can’t use the bathroom until I look behind the shower curtain. That’s one of the crazy things about fear, even when you overcome your fear, sometimes you develop habits due to them, and those habits are sometimes hard to break. Whether it’s looking behind a shower curtain before your cheeks can hit the seat, or avoiding letting someone of a different race on an empty elevator with you, fear can cause you to develop those idiosyncrasies that can affect your life.

Fear isn’t always over miniscule things (like an animatronics-activated sociopathic doll). Many times, our fears are based off of our own horrible personal experiences that couldn’t come from the imaginations of Stephen King, Dean Koontz, or Edgar Allen Poe. Those fears are logical; indulging in them could cause a person to freeze in a time they should be jumping in action.

Like a deer caught in headlights, it is not only a split decision for the driver, but for the deer as well. Driving on highways, the sidelines are littered with deer that were too afraid to keep moving. Dear readers, it’s easy to let our fear consume us. It’s easy to become immobile when the time requires us to behave like our favorite action stars. However, I encourage you to not let your fear allow you to miss out on the amazing opportunities that life brings your way. Even when YOU stop moving, the world doesn’t.

This week, let’s discuss!!

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Do as I Condemn, Not As I Do

2009-06-12T10:32:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

We’ve talked a lot about the normal views of maturity, but there’s another form of immaturity that I would like to talk about. Even though I’m giving a Christian perspective on it, it truly is something that I personally believe is true for ALL religions, or lack thereof.

Many people ask me, why is it that I went through so many tumultuous events in life, but still seem to have a smile permanently attached to my face? Well, when I was younger, I became a Christian. For me, it truly did help me out in life. I no longer felt depressed, or angry.

The joy I felt was something so tangible, and I NEVER felt anything like it before in my life, and I began to become EXTREMELY excited, and EXTREMELY dedicated to spread the Word. I became a mini-Evangelist, and went around with my Bible, and tried to talk to my peers, teachers, and even principal about Jesus. The only problem is, when people expressed a dislike for my beliefs, or didn’t want it crammed down their throats like I was trying to do, I would begin to condemn them.

“Well, if you don’t believe in Jesus, you’re going to Hell!!” Instead of fighting with my tiny fists, I began to fight with the Word of God. I truly thought I was winning the “Good Fight,” but little did I know that not only was I losing it, but I was losing possible recruits due to my own actions.

When I reached high school, I became worse. I would walk around my campus, and would observe all the “lost sheep.” People would enter class on Monday mornings and would laugh about their drunken escapades, and as I glanced at my “won’t have sex until marriage” promise ring, all I could think was: “I’m soo glad I’m not like that.” My other Christian rhetoric quoting friends felt the same way, and I actually felt pity for my classmates.

It wasn’t until I reached college that I got the RUDEST awakening. I realized that the only reason why I never really participated in the rambunctious actions of my peers was because I didn’t have the opportunity to. My parents, being the extremely protective people that they are, would not let us hang out with people that they didn’t personally know. Not only did my parents have to know my friends, but they had to know their parents. So, if I came home on Friday night asking to go to a party at Joe Somebody’s house, the answer was immediately “No!!” It was easy holding on to my purity pledge because right after school I had band practice, and immediately headed home where my mother was waiting with a barrage of questions. It was easy to seem like a good girl, because I never had a true opportunity to be a “bad” one.

It wasn’t until I took my promise ring off and had sex that I realized how flawed everyone is. The next morning, I felt horrible. Not only because I broke my vow, or the fact that I was the one who truly pursued breaking it, but because I had now felt like I was the same as the people that I condemned. Then when I decided to straighten my game up, I went to hang out with a friend at her campus for Spring Break and got drunk at the age of 19. WHAT WAS HAPPENING TO ME?! Then, when I was SURE I was going to get back on track, I ended up having sex with my NEXT boyfriend.

By this time, not only did I feel uncomfortable at church, but felt uncomfortable just saying my blessing before eating my dinner. I was the same person who I condemned in high school, but in my eyes I was worse. I KNEW that I shouldn’t have been doing the things that I was doing, but I did them regardless!!

It wasn’t until someone called me out and asked me how could I call myself a Christian and still do the things I was doing that I had an “a-ha!” moment. I realized how unfair it was to expect perfection from others, and then have the nerve to expect people to have grace for me whenever I messed up. While in college, I was able to become extremely humble, and realized that NO ONE is perfect. I also realized that I have NO Heaven or Hell to throw ANYONE in, and anytime I want to point out someone else’s imperfections, I’m reminded of my own.

As a Christian, I acknowledge that I’m a flawed individual, and everyone else is too. The same things that EVERYONE struggles with, I struggle with as well. It’s hard for me to not want to go to a bar and get completely plastered, then when I do, I do struggle with condemnation.

The same thing is true for all religions. There are many times when you want to be the best representation of your religion, and sometimes that might cause you to condemn others for not following as rigorously as you are. Or, you could be an atheist, who will point out other’s flaws, or the times they fall in their religion. Both ways are signs of immaturity. You will never be perfect, and just because you accept a religion doesn’t’ mean that it erases the fact that you’re human, and you ARE going to occasionally fall. If you do not want people to expect perfection from you, then do not expect it from others.

As I try to work on myself, I’ve made a new pledge. I pledged that I would never judge anyone due to their past, present, or future. As I’ve moved forward with my maturity in Christ, I still have my moments of Christian immaturity (doing things I KNOW I have no business doing). However, I’ve matured since my first finger pointing days. Now, the only person I’m pointing a finger at is me.

STAY ENCOURAGED AND HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND!! SEE YOU ALL MONDAY!!

She Said What...??

2009-06-11T10:18:00.001-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

I honestly cannot remember ever being told to act my age. Even though this saying has not been said to me personally, I have wanted to say it to others. However, there is always the confusing nature of what’s the paradigm of how a person should act at their age. Is an 18 year old supposed to behave in a certain way? What about someone who’s 21? What about those 30 year old women, or those 40 year old men? When you reach a certain age, are you supposed to allow yourself to fit what society deems as acceptable behavior? The moment I hit the age of 35, should I retire my favorite capris for a pair of mom jeans? When a man reaches the age of 45, does he decide to reach in the back of his closet and pull out his Bill Cosby-esque sweater? When is that defining moment to “put away childish things” and resolve to adhere to maturity?

One of my favorite shows used to be “Children Say the Darndest Things,” and I can see why it is so popular. People tend to respect a person who can say whatever comes to their mind, but shouldn’t there be a moment when common decency replaces the gall that people say?

As a child, you’re able to get away with saying certain things. I once asked an old lady if she was going to die soon, let’s see how far I can get away with asking that in a retirement center now!! As I got older I learned my limits, but I sometimes feel like I am alone in this type of thinking.

After someone just explained her self-conscious feelings over her looks, a girl walks up to her and tells her “how bad” she looks. One day, while looking at some of my old pictures, a girl looks at them, then looks me up and down and repeatedly says: “Wow… you’ve gained SOO much weight. I mean, just look at this picture!!” (“What is wrong with you? Why would you even say something like that?”)

The culprits would laugh, and it would seem as if they would be rewarded for immature behavior with ignorant guffaws in the peanut gallery. Later on, they would be given accolades for “keeping it real,” but shouldn’t there be a moment where it ticks in a person’s mind that: “HEY!! Saying that is inappropriate!! Let me get myself a muzzle!!”

In the benefit of keeping it real, let’s try maturing with that as well. You honestly don’t know what a person is dealing with, and when you make an ignorant comment about their appearance, or talent, you could be causing extreme damage to their self-esteem. Am I ready to pick up my Mom jeans? Not yet. But am I ready to stay out of retirement centers? You BET I am!!

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Behind Old Eyes

2009-06-10T10:52:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

One of my duties at my new job entails going to stores, picking things up, returning things, and so on. Yesterday I was asked to make a trip to Walmart and return some cake pans. While standing in the Customer Service line I saw a pregnant woman sitting down. Sitting next to her was a woman who looked very similar to her, so I assumed that she was her sister. Sitting on her “sister’s” lap was a little girl. The two sisters talked, and when I looked over, I saw that the sister with the “daughter” sitting on her lap had bruises on her face. A few of her teeth were missing, and her black eye encompassed most of her face. Her daughter caught me staring, and looked at me. The similarities in facial features and bruises were incredible, and within those sad brown eyes, stared the eyes of an old soul.

I wanted to walk over, hug the little girl, and let her know in eyes just as old as her’s that things would be better. The desire to offer the promises from another hurt soul to a jubilant future, despite a dolorous present or past.

Childhood is expected to be a time of carefree zealousness. The only time in life that you can be ignorant, and not only is it expected of you, but it’s encouraged. But what happens when that time is torn from you. You’re forced to grow up faster than even you expected, and your ignorance is replaced by the injustices of the world around you? How do you go back to what’s expected of you, and would that even be possible?

As I made my return, and left from the Customer Service area, I offered a small wave, and a smile. It might not have been a lot, but the girl smiled and waved back. Deep within those tiny brown eyes of her’s held the soul of an old woman, eyes that mirrored mine. As I left all I could hope for her was a better future that would help erase the bruises from her past. I know that the pain would probably never leave her, and within those beautiful sad brown eyes, a part of her childhood would be gone, but hopefully she could take those missing pieces and create a beautiful future.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Parental Guidance

2009-06-09T11:56:00.001-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

A wise woman once told me: "It's hard raising good parents." I thought the quote was so poignant, and was a testament to the trials and growing pains that both child and parent deal with simultaneously.

When you're younger, your parents seem to know everything. They have an answer for all your questions ("Why do I have to wear this coat? Why can't I play in the street? Where do babies come from?"), and their authority reigns supreme.

But, when you get older, and hit that teenage stage, you slowly begin to realize that they don't know everything. They can't explain to you why your boyfriend/girlfriend left you. They don't know how long your acne will last, and they have difficulty explaining some of those intimate things (that menstruation talk was BRUTAL!!).

For some people, this is when they begin to lose respect for their parents. People I knew in high school would say comments about how their parents were such hypocrites and how everything was "do as I say, not as I do." More people lost respect for their parents for the fact that their mothers or fathers just wouldn't admit whenever they were wrong.

It got me thinking about maturity, and the struggles a child has while trying to mature her parents, and vice versa. No one will ever truly know all the answers, and no one truly likes being culpable of their own mistakes. However, the moment you begin to realize that you're parents are growing the same time that you are, it'll make your ascent into maturity a lot smoother.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

The Maturity Race

2009-06-08T12:00:00.001-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

It’s amazing to see you all back!! I’m very sorry for my sudden absence, and I missed you all terribly. Since my move to the fine state of Minnesota, my life has literally been turned inside out. Things I never expected that I could handle are now the norm in my life, and things I thought I couldn’t survive without have become afterthoughts in my mind.

However, while I was looking into the depths of nature and myself, I should have been a little bit more prepared for my change. That’s where this week’s topic comes in, maturity. There are certain things that we could get away with while we were children, or ignorant, but as we’ve gotten older and have acquired the knowledge that we need to survive, we find that we can no longer get away with the things we used to do.

Due to some of the things I dealt with as a child I was forced to grow up at a young age. The worries of the normal child was not my own. For years, I worried about how I would protect myself from the dangers of older men, shiesty family members, and gang members. Now that these things are not as in the front of my mind as it used to, I find myself sometimes experiencing a second childhood.

I enjoy watching cartoons, and living a very simple life without the fear of pain and trauma coming my way. But with that, I still have the expectations that are given to an adult, and sometimes it is hard to separate the life I have now with the life I should have had as a child. I find myself longing to live a life without any worries, except the trivial ones children are so blessed to have.

However, as I get older, I realize that just because I would like to slow down, doesn’t mean that the world is going to slow down for me. Now to you, dear readers, as we all compete in this race in life, we must not forget about the hurdles that we will encounter. From one runner to another, you will never successfully complete the race of life, if you’re lagging in the race of maturity. This week, let’s discuss.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Why Me?

2009-06-03T11:12:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

There are any things that can categorize a person into being a "good friend." Many people would say things like: "they're always there for you," "let's you borrow their car," (my friends aren't THAT good), "good emotional support." Well, dear readers, I think there is something a little bit more important that constitutes a good friend.

My definition of a good friend is someone who loves you when you're unlovable. Let's face it, a lot of us (well, not me, of course, I'm perfect, baby!!) aren't always happy, dancing people. We get angry, dolorous, and extremely pissy on a daily basis.

Now, a good friend is a person who can take us in ALL of our faults, and still make the decision to stay with us.

It amazes me sometimes when I think about my friends. As you all have read, I've dealt with a lot of things in the past, and sometimes those issues have caused me to not be the best Kendra I possibly can. When other people, family members, frienemies, even myself, pushed me over to the side, I was always amazed that my friends always stuck it through.

When I wanted to give up on myself, my true friends never let me fall. My hope to you, dear readers, is that you're as lucky!!

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Spitting Distance

2009-06-02T11:51:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

What type of person would you consider to be naive? Would you consider a small child, whose trying to deal with the bad decisions of others by trying to make her world a better place? A person who separates herself from her family and tries to create her own by making a new family with friendship. Is she naive? YES!!

Like I've said before, it took me years to deal overcome the hurt that was put on me by some family members. Because I thought in my small, child-like mind that no one in my family could be trusted, that left me without a support system. So, at that time, I tried to create my own family with friendships. The problem was, some of those "friends" were open enemies, I was just too naive to accept it.

A group of girls who did not like my sisters and I came up to me one day on my front lawn. My sisters were in the house, and they always warned me against the girls. I figured that out of the two groups, I would trust these girls over my sisters. They asked me where my sisters where. When I told them they were inside, they then all took hand fulls of ranch flavored sunflower seeds. They asked me if I wanted any, and I jumped up from our stairs to get some. The wind blew through my pigtails and I put my hand out to receive these seeds that I thought were so symbolic of a blossoming friendship. Then...

They SPIT THE SUNFLOWER SEEDS IN MY FACE!!!!!! .....Yeah, I'm gonna let you read that one again.

I stood there stunned, as they ran away. It was as if all I was frozen in surprise. All of the sound became muted. I could no longer hear the wind rustling the leaves of the trees. I could feel my legs itch due to my dry skin. The only thing I could feel was the sunflower seeds and saliva sliding off my face.

I felt sickened, and very embarrassed, thinking that no matter what I would do in life, I would never find a group of people that I trusted.

As I've gotten older, I've gotten tougher, and less naive. I've learned that not everyone can be trusted, and not everyone is looking to hurt me. I have a group of friends and family that I finally have trust, and love with. Even when we're physically apart, they always feel like they're a spit distance away.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Flying on the Wings of Friendship

2009-06-01T09:43:00.001-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

This week's post will be about meeting new people, friendships, and frienemies. This weekend I moved to work at a new office for the summer in Minnesota (I'm hoping to run into Prince while I'm here). While driving the 16 hour drive, my boss reassured me that I would have no problems getting along with the other members of my office.

Now, honestly, I've never been too worried about making friends. Being a naturally gregarious person, my friendships come very easily. But every now and then, I'll be flying on my wings of friendship, and then suddenly the extreme heat of the Frienemie Sun would melt my wax. Then, like the tragic Icarus, I come crashing.

I could never truly understand the concept of frienemies, and why people continue to associate with someone that they do not care for. It just seems natural to distance yourself from the things that make you cringe, or makes you look negatively at yourself. For some reason, humans will stay "friends" with someone who is batantly trying to bring them down, or hurt them.

For the next couple of days I'll be meeting new people, and solidifying my wings with feathers and wax, in hopes of leaving Minnesota with a few new friendships. Sometimes, all you can do is take flight and hope for the best.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

My Last Chance, to Lose You

2009-05-29T11:17:00.001-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

As optimistic as I am, there are times when I have no choice but to be realistic. Like the time I was training for a triathlon. As much running and biking I was doing, it wouldn’t matter, because I can’t swim. Granted, my body looked SICK while training, but if I couldn’t swim, I couldn’t participate.

The same thing is applicable for relationships. The person you’re with could be extremely nice, attractive, but if you do not have chemistry, or that chemistry has left, sometimes you need to cut your losses.

Now the problem comes in when you TRY to leave, but the person refuses. I was watching “Snapped” yesterday, and on one episode a man tried to break up with his girlfriend, but she kept on appearing butt naked in his house. You know, it’s kinda hard to break up with someone you keep on sleeping with, but maybe that’s just me. Another episode showed a man trying to divorce his wife, but she drug him back in with lies of having cancer, shaving her head, and offering to pay for his prostitutes. You know, it’s kinda hard to break up with someone when they’re financing your prostitute addiction. Sometimes, you wonder, why won’t you just let me go?!

But in the same instance, why won’t we just leave? For some people, leaving is a lot harder; due to mental or emotional abuse in a relationship, but what about the rest us?

One day in group [therapy] I came in upset. My ex, who was that extra shove into my eating disorder, contacted me. Now, it wouldn’t have been that much of an issue, if I didn’t tell him before that I no longer wanted to communicate with him. (Me: “I think we should cut all ties of communication.” Him: “Okay, I understand.”) Apparently, he didn’t understand, because he was contacting me AGAIN!!

We ended up talking on the phone, and it was a very pleasant phone conversation, but I was still uncomfortable talking with him. He made comments about meeting up and going to dinner, and all I could think was: “Do you REALLY think I’ll feel comfortable EATING in front of you?! After EVERYTHING?! REALLY???!!!!” But, I just became quiet and did something that I heard of guys doing. I just stopped calling and answering the phone.

But, alas, I’m a person with a heart, and sent him a message apologizing for being so rude and abrupt with cutting him off. I explained that I felt uncomfortable and the important people in my life who knew about his destructive force backed me on my decision. So, for those reason, I had to cut communication ties again.

I thought that that would be the end. But NO!! It OPENED the doors for communication AGAIN!!! I sat there while I read his message back to me asking if I had finally received a cell phone so we could talk again, and I immediately felt as if I emotionally just participated in that triathlon. I just felt exhausted and sunk into my chair, feeling like no matter what I tried to do, he was going to keep on coming back. Until… I got a STROKE of genius!!!

Yesterday’s blog I addressed an ex who constantly kept tabs on me, but didn’t want me asking him any questions. Well, this was the same ex. I decided that I had to “play this like a grown girl ought to” and SCARE HIM AWAY!! I sent him a Facebook message describing the things I’ve said before, with how uncomfortable talking to him made me and how my feelings of insecurity would come back. Then, dear readers, I just let out a STREAM of QUESTIONS!! Most of those questions didn’t even MAKE SENSE!! I asked him why me? Why was he re-contacting me? Did he contact any of his other ex girlfriends? Yada, question, yada.

Did I care about the answers to these random questions? NO!! All I knew was, he HATED being asked questions, and the more questions I asked him, the better!! To be completely honest, I had to stop myself from asking the obscure questions I wanted (What’s the meaning to life? If a tree falls in the woods…? Where do babies come from?) because I knew he would have caught on.

But oh, in that moment, I wasn’t just “Jordan, fourth quarter in ’92,” I was also Pippen, Armstrong, Rodman, AND Phil Jackson!! I was the WHOLE freakin’ team!!

I laughed hysterically when I checked my messages the next day and saw I got a message from him. “I think we need to cut all ties of communication.”

Yeah, fool, I think so too!!

STAY ENCOURAGED, AND HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND!!

Like a Boy... and a Girl

2009-05-28T09:58:00.001-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

Beyond the kissing, hugging,… intimate fondling in a relationship, there’s the underlining issue of control. For some reason, with many couples there is a power struggle. It’s not bad enough that you deal with power struggles in school (trying to one up that Marx-quoting-know-it-all-punk that sits right next to you), at your job (shiesty coworkers), or just walking around outside (conniving women and insecure men trying to bring you down), but you have to deal with it in relationships as well.

You come home from a negative, competitive atmosphere, and you expect to be greeted at the door with a kiss, the remote control, and no worries. However, you’re greeted with double standards and bogus expectations. Now, I’m not saying that this is true for ALL relationships (like I’ve said before, there are some good, and GENUINE relationships), just addressing those double standards that comes in SOME relationships.

Now fellas, have you ever found yourself running late to meet your woman at a restaurant, and you find her sitting at the bar? You try to go to her but she’s surrounded by at least two men, buying her drinks, and she’s flying her head back while she over exaggerates her laugh, and gives the men coy touches on their arms? But, when you get your table and the waitress comes, you find her attractive and end up doing a double look at her, your girl’s ready to set the restaurant on fire and ring the alarm?

Women, have you ever dated someone who wanted to know EVERYTHING about you? Wanted you to give him a schedule about anytime you did ANYTHING? From seeing your friends, to going to toilet? But the MOMENT you ask him ANYHING, he immediately flies off the handle yelling things like: “STOP NAGGING ME?!” (“Ummm… fool, I just wanted to know if you wanted to meet for dinner tonight or not….”)

Things like this are other reasons that makes me shy away from relationships. These two above examples are things that have happened to a guy friend of mine, and me. What is up with the double standards, people?!

I had a boyfriend who wanted to break up with me because he found someone better for him, but instead of just SAYING that, he used the excuse of: “Well, I don’t like the fact that your best friend is a guy.” But, when I reminded him that HIS best friend was a girl, he started stuttering.

But not to seem like a total male basher, so, like always, I’ll put myself on blast. I was dating this guy, and for our first date we were going to my favorite restaurant. When he came to pick me up, he was EXTREMELY agitated. He had a horrible day at work, and really wanted to just head home, but he knew I was looking forward to dinner.

We walked to the bus stop, while I talked a mile a minute about the wonders of the world; he just stared at me like he wanted me to shut up. So, I finally did. We get on the bus, and we’re not talking, when a guy friend of mine taps me on my shoulder. He was an English grad student, and sort of like a mentor for me. The same grad school I was thinking about going to, he went, and at the time I was studying for my GRE. We got engrossed in conversation about favorite authors, dream vacations, and foreign language studies. I kept on trying to invite my ex into the conversation, but he just shook his head and looked out the window.

I realized then my guy was feeling like I was openly flirting in front of him, because as a woman, it’s more acceptable. If he would have done the same thing, he would have been considered a dog, but since I was a woman, I was just considered overly friendly (which I am, and NO I was NOT flirting). I never realized that type of double standard until my guy told me… then to get back at me went to a party and did God-knows-what. Either way, the relationship was established by a double standard, and ended through the frustrations of them.

I think that a lot of relationship issues could be absolved by just being more empathetic. You hear these songs about how would it feel like if a girl acted like a boy, and how some men want women to buy them things and “trade places” with them, so these feelings are unfounded. Everyone can relate to having extremely high expectations brought on them, and feel the pressure of double standards.

But, whatever, I can talk to whoever I want to on the bus now!!

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

The 2, 3, 4 Theory

2009-05-27T09:41:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

To be completely honest, today’s post was going to be COMPLETELY different. I got half-way through, stopped, and decided to revamp. What caused this sudden change of topic, you might ask? It occurred to me while watching “Black Men Revealed” this morning that “attraction” is a more poignant topic than what I originally had planned.

Well, the topic today on “Black Men Revealed” was: ‘We’ve Got Issues Too.’ On this great episode they talked about their insecurities, and how they feel that certain things led to their downfall with women. Some of the men expressed that they probably wouldn’t be desirable if they didn’t have certain cars, with certain rims, or money in general.

Listening to the panel reminded me of a conversation I had with my friend Wayne in college. While philosophizing at the cafeteria table, Wayne expressed a theory called: “The 2, 3, 4 Phenomenon.” He explained that the 2, 3, 4 theory is conducive to college campuses, and it emphasizes women’s attraction to men. The theory dictates: “to get a woman in college, you need to have at least one of these things: 2-numbers on a jersey, 3-Greek letters, or 4-wheels on a car.”

When he first said this, my girls and I immediately howled at how wrong he was, but he then began to name names of guys on our campus that honestly, probably wouldn’t have gotten much play if they didn’t fall under the category of the 2, 3, or 4.

Years later, I had an epiphany about the theory, and couldn’t wait to tell my NEW theory to disprove the “2, 3, 4.” I realized that it’s not about having certain things, but the main thing that attracts women is CONFIDENCE.

It seems like, for men sometimes, that if they are lacking in fiscal amenities, then their confidence begins to drag. If a man has confidence, it doesn’t matter what he has, he’s somehow intriguing, and may I say… attractive. So, having his name on the back of a jersey, the closeness of a brotherhood, or a new ride will cause a man to have a little bit more of a sway in his step, and hold his head a little higher than normal.

One summer while working at Busch Stadium, one of my workers started talking to me. It turned out that we went to the same high school, but I honestly never realized that he existed. We started talking, and realized that we went to elementary school together. After talking, he reveals to me that he FLUNKED KINDERGARTEN (how in the CRAP do you flunk kindergarten?! Couldn’t get the nap schedule down?!), had a POLICE RECORD (“I can’t really travel, until I get approval from my parole officer), had a CHILD, and a CRAZY baby momma!!

After hearing all of this, I was mentally planning my escape, when he smiled at me, and with a confidence I’ve never seen from a man, asked me out. It was as if having that confidence just over-rid ALL of the things that he said to me!! How was it that a college student was about to go out on a date with an ex-con who graduated from high school when he was 20?! That confidence, or lack of an overused word, that SWAGGER, drew me in.

Not only did it draw me in, but it would have me overlook all the negative things during our [EXTREMELY] short time dating. He would stand me up for dates, and when I would go to talk to him, that bizarre confidence that he had just kept me coming back!! It was like a drug, and I was jonesing for it!! Tony didn’t have a 2, he DEFINITELY didn’t have a 3, and he BARELY had a 4, but because of his C-O-N-F-I-D-E-N-C-E, it kept this addict coming back for more.

So let it be known, men. You do not have to have to drive yourself to the poor house to catch a woman. You don’t even need to drive, honestly. If you have an amazing personality, the ability to make her laugh, and those 10 letters, you can get a woman for a date… maybe even two.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

I Know What You Want

2009-05-26T10:46:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

Do you know what saying really aggravates me? The “I’m not the average girl” quote, just hearing girls say that makes my skin crawl. Why, you might ask? Because it lends itself to the bigger question of: What is the average girl? Does her room look like “Build-A-Bear” vomited in it? Do her outfits usually contain multiple versions of the color pink? Has she been planning her wedding since she was seven years old? Is her main goal in life is to fall in love and have children? Is she void of intellectual thought, and can only talk about fashion and makeup?

The reason why this “average girl” saying bugs me is because it seems to reinforce how men see women. It seems as though guys think that every girl has this insanely loud biological clock that’s ticking, and the only thing that’s on her mind is falling in love, getting married and having children. Every single guy I’ve dated has made a comment about what they THOUGHT I wanted, when it was completely opposite than my true desires.

Now, don’t get me wrong, there are those… girls… that seem to want to fall in love so bad. She spends her time watching those nauseating romantic comedies (“Forget Paris,” and “When Harry Met Sally” are not included, those movies are AMAZING), and hope to have a relationship just like the protagonists in those movies. However, I would think that these movie-recreators make up a small population of women. But still, why do they seem to be the landmark that men measure ALL women to?

I have two sisters that are married. My sister’s husband, Watson, is known among people as the “King of Cake.” (For those not familiar with the colloquialism of “Cake” it is an expression that signifies when a man and a woman are showing affection for each other.) Watson and Kelli express their love anywhere they possibly can, and especially in the realm of Facebook. One year, a couple of Watson’s friends and myself were trash talking Watson about his Cake status while my boyfriend walked into my room. Asking me why I was laughing, I explained to him about my awesome comment to Watson and being such a cheeseball. My ex looked at me, rubbed my hair, and said: “It’s funny when people make fun of other people when it’s something that they secretly want.”

“Ummm… excuse me?!” He just walked away with a smug grin on his face as if he had pinpointed my deepest desires. No matter how my actions proved that that type of open affection made me uncomfortable, it didn’t matter. According to my ex “that’s what ALL girls want.” When in actuality, all I wanted HIM to do is start picking up the bill sometimes when we went to dinner, not propose!!

So to you, wonderful readers, every woman does not have a wedding dress hiding in her closet, or has her perfect ring picked out. Not every woman’s biological clock is ticking, and honestly, I don’t even know if I HAVE a clock. But what I do have is a lack of tolerance for having this “average girl” status put on me and other women.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Infatuation Fatigues

2009-05-25T09:31:00.002-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY!! While you wake up this morning, start your bar-b-que, go to parades, and visit the grave sites of the amazingly brave men and women who fight for our country, please remember to celebrate AMERICA!! But, don’t discount yourself too much, you’re just as brave, and just because you don’t have your own pair of fatigues with your last name embroidered on them doesn’t mean you haven’t fought your own share of battles.

This week’s discussions will be on relationships. Getting into them, falling in love (which I’ve never done before, but I’m still optimistic), the double standards, and finally getting out. Not to sound like an R&B song, but for those who have good relationships, please make sure you cherish the person you’re with, you don’t realize how lucky you truly are.

For me, I have a small aversion to relationships. It started years ago when someone close to my family molested me. Now, please, don’t feel sad, I’m 23 years old, and I’ve had 18 years to deal with it. It took some time (kept it a secret from certain people for years), but I’m fine now. However, this incident in my past has shaped how I deal with men.

I have NO problem being friends with the opposite sex. As a matter of fact, when I meet a guy, I don’t think of our potential romantic union, I think: “HEY!! A NEW FRIEND!!” The problem comes in when the guy shows interest in me that immediately makes my guards go up, and makes me wonder about his intentions. Is this a joke? Are you going to hurt me? Will I have to go to more therapy because of this? Am I prepared to accept the ramifications when this will eventually end? Is it normal that you like romantic comedies?!

Then to make matters worse, if it’s someone I really like, I can’t talk to him. It’s as if he’s an eclipse, and I can’t look in his direction. In fact, I can’t even acknowledge him, it’s better if he doesn’t even exist. It takes me around a year and a half to finally acknowledge him, and sometimes, the opportunity for the relationship has past. But, for those men who were willing to stick it out that year and a half ignoring basis, he earns a stripe on his fatigue. Good patience, soldier!!

But, here’s my main issue, I’m a little commitment phobic, so I don’t date for YEARS. Honestly, people, I LOVE being single!! There’s no one hounding me about where I’m going, who I’m with. No one to veto my outfit, or have me to ask permission to talk on the phone. No petty arguments…. Hmmmm… let me marinate on that fact for a minute…. No. Petty. Arguments…. Yeah… that’s nice….

It’s just me, hanging out with my friends, just loving life. But every now and then, I do enter into a relationship union, but not until all my baggage is gone. For some reason, call me considerate, but I can’t date someone if I’m still struggling with something else, I find that it’s not fair to my counterpart. Too bad that’s not the norm in relationships, but I tend to earn my stripes on my uniforms by dealing with my exes’ baggage.

Well, while I’ve become a Lieutenant in the relationship’s army, I couldn’t have moved up in ranking if it wasn’t for all the battles I fought. So, to you, cadet, soldier, MP, retiree, reservist, even if a relationship has left you feeling like an amputee, doesn’t mean that you can’t recover. Those battles scars are reminders to a past filled with amazing up, and hurtful downs. However, take those scars as learning lessons. You got one for going too fast? Slow down next time. No matter what it is, those bruises will subside, and those scars can be landmarks for what you want to change for the next time.

Unless you avoid the draft by becoming a priest, nun, eunuch, or monk, you’re going to be in the war anyway. So, why not have fun discussing it, am I right?! You BET I am!!

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Hey There, Red Sheep!!

2009-05-22T10:16:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

I mentioned last post that my [immediate] family would never do anything to purposely hurt me, with that being said, it doesn’t mean that certain family members haven’t. I love my family, and the same way how I do not want people to expect me to be perfect, I acknowledge my family’s flaws and love them regardless. But for years, when I was younger, I did whatever I could to separate myself from them.

I wasn’t always the happy go-get-‘em girl most of you know. While I was younger, I dealt with a lot of depression that stemmed from certain injustices that I personally encountered or witnessed. Some of these things will be shared in later posts, while others will probably be between me and the ones who were unfortunate to share these incidents with me.

Things like my skin tone (I’m the darkest one out of all my sisters), intellect (my sisters received good grades in all their classes, while the only classes I truly excelled in were English ones; thus my major), and speech impediment made me feel insignificant in comparison to them, and furthered the gap between us.

In elementary school, I wasn’t allowed to play with most of my friends, because they were boys, and the boys and girls had to be separate. So, sometimes during recess, when I would begin to feel depressed I would sit by the gates and watch people play. One day a guy walked past, and engaged me in conversation. For the next few days, we would meet, with the playground’s fence being our barricade and we would talk. He must have picked up on my loneliness and offered a new family setting to me. The only thing was, I couldn’t wear certain colors, and I would have to learn how to secretly sell crack without being detected. Yes, readers, I was offered a spot into the elite family environment of gang members. All I had to do was meet at an abandoned house in the middle of the night, and I would be in!!

The only problem was that by this time, my family and I moved out of East St. Louis, and I couldn’t find a way to get to the abandoned paradise where all of my loneliness problems would be solved by a few black eyes, and rapes. Later on, I would meet more and more gang members. They would come to the school campus to meet their possible new acolyte, and try to figure out how they could get me to the house for my initiation. However, due to the eagle eye of my mother, and my sisters and I sharing a room at the time, proved to be a roadblock. We finally found a time, and I was excited to finally be accepted into a family that hadn’t scarred me for so many years.

It wasn’t until the true consequences of what my joining this institution would cause me. I had dreams of being a great writer. Were prison walls an appropriate canvas for talent? I had dreams of travelling around the world, not from state penitentiary to state penitentiary. I wanted to be accepted by my family, but realized that I was blaming them for the injustices brought on me by others.

After announcing my decision to change my mind I got harassed for a few months, but at that point, I was fine, and no longer felt a fear of wearing the wrong colors. I decided that instead of working on a COMPLETELY convoluted plan to meet up with a bunch of guys who go shopping for potentials at elementary school playgrounds, I decided to work on my relationship with my family instead. It took years to get over many things, and to finally be able to trust certain people, but the work was well worth it. My family might unintentionally hurt me, but I’ll rather be the black sheep of my family than a red one any day.

STAY ENCOURAGED!! SEE YOU ALL MONDAY!!

Fussin' Cousins

2009-05-21T09:32:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

What do you typically do to toxic people in your life? If you’re like me, you cut them off. I don’t know about you, but I can make myself feel bad without anyone else’s help, I’m just saying… But what do you do when these people are related to you? When you feel that no matter how many things you accomplish in your life, it’s never good enough? When the whole world applauds you, your family seems to boo you, or at least wish that you’d trip on your way to receive your reward?

I love my immediate family, and no matter what they do, I could never cut them out of my life (seeing that my family would never do anything with the purposeful intent on hurting me), but Lord have I tried to cut out those toxic aunts, uncles and cousins. But, no matter how I try to get away from them, they come back, just like that stray cat in that creepy song (“The cat came back, he wouldn’t go away. The cat came back, the very next day!!” That song always scared me for some reason…)

I have aunts and uncles that would act elitist and condescending to me and my sisters. (“What do you have to be so snobby about?! Your expensive liquor?!”) There were aunts that would always try to downgrade our accomplishments and one up them with their own children’s or grandchildren’s (“Well, you just graduated from college? Well, ______ just bought a new car AND discovered the cure for AIDS!!” “You want to be a writer? Well, ______ just penned the great American Novel and was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize AND a Grammy!!” “You’re sick? Well, _____ just got bit by a vampire, and every night she transforms into a bat and flies away. Last night she bit a cow, and now has mad cow disease!!”) WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE?!

But if you think their parents are bad…

I had a cousin who moved to Champaign, to get out of East St. Louis. I was happy, and offered to do anything to help him get his life on the right track. However, he was content on bringing his foolishness from southern Illinois to MY college campus, and drug my name through the mud along with him.

He regaled people on his tales of drug totting, grenade tossing, gun shooting LIES, and within the same breath constantly claimed me as his cousin and accomplice!! I would walk into a library, and have a group of people call me over to ask if the stories were true. They looked disappointed when I told the truth about a man that caused so much fear in people’s heart who used to be afraid of my ventriloquist dummy (“WHERE would he buy grenades from? An Army surplus store? And you say you’re a Ph. D Candidate? …I’m just asking…”)

After he purposely ruined my reputation with lies to a weak minded aunt, I finally had enough. Taking him to dinner, and talking to him, I explained that he had to stop the foolishness. Or at least stop telling people I supplied him machine guns and machetes (“A machete? What’s that? Some type of taco??”).

I would hear my friends tell stories of toxic people in their lives, and the horrendous things they would do, and I would feel a little sad that I could put a family member’s face on each of the stories. It gets to a point in time that you have to accept your family for how they are. A psychology study I learned in one of my old classes has shown that by the age of four, the personality that people have is basically how they’ll behave for the rest of their lives. There’s nothing you can do, except accept it. Well, I accepted my ignorant aunts, my condescending uncles, and my delusions-of-grandeur having cousins. When can they finally accept me?

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Oh Brothers, Where Art Thou?

2009-05-20T12:27:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

I feel as if I’ve been misleading you all. For past posts, I’ve mentioned my sisters, but I’ve never mentioned my brothers. I have two half brothers named *Jamie and *John.

My brothers are the sons of my father with a past girlfriend. Since my brothers have a different mothers from my sisters and myself, I never got a chance to really spend time with them. I feel like sometimes they were distant cousins rather than brothers. We lived in different households, and that caused a chasm in our relationship. Moving to Illinois furthered those rifts, but whenever I saw them I was always filled with such happiness and a small sense of reserve.

Reserve, not because I didn’t want to see them anymore, but because they where my brothers, yet to an extent, strangers. I had a desire to get closer to them, but fearful that we might get torn away.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve gotten closer to sisters, but still have that child-like reserve towards my brothers. One day, I hope and pray that I could get to the point where I can call my brothers on a daily basis, the same way how I’m able to call my sisters. That one day, as three adults, my reserve could be gone and the familial bond can be tightened.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

"I'm Not a Baby Anymore!!"

2009-05-19T10:14:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

Sometimes, reality is a hard thing to accept, but no matter how long you try to live in denial sooner or later, you have to accept the truth.

Today is my baby sister Kayla’s graduation. For me, it’s an unreal day. I’m six years older than Kayla, so I’ve seen her in most of her walks in life. My sisters and I used to talk to my mother’s pregnant stomach while Kayla was incubating in there. We saw her as an infant, and she was my nemesis for years (stole my “baby” status and stole my thunder, it took me some years to get over that). I watched her take her first steps, and now I’m privileged to watch her take her first steps into adulthood.

However, whenever I look at Kayla, I don’t see a blooming adult, I still see a young toddler with “rosy cherubim-like cheeks” (my sister Kelli’s description), and sucking a pacifier.

But, Kayla has traded in her pacifier for make-up and multiple college acceptance letters. Still, I haven’t fully traded in my protective sense for reality I instead find myself shielding her from the cursing in some of my favorite movies (“NO!! You can’t watch Fight Club!! How old are you? 8?” “I’M 16!!”)

While I watch her start to get ready for a landmark in her life, I plan to work on a landmark for all older siblings and start trying to accept her for the wonderful person that she is now, not the child she used to be.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

You are your Parents' Child

2009-05-18T09:56:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

This week we'll be discussing family and the cold chill you feel when the first time you realize: "Wow... I AM just like my mother and/or father..." Or the time you realize that your baby brother/sister is no longer a baby, but an adult. Or what about those family members that make you want to skip those tedious reunions? We'll touch it all this week!!

Last weekend was Mother's Day, and what did Mother Nature bring my mother? A big, nasty basement flood. All of the crap...errr... I mean, antiques my mother has down there had the potential to be ruined, so it was up to me and my baby sister Kayla to try to salvage as much as we could. We lined the couches and tables ("Why do we have so many tables down here, it's not like we EAT down here...") with plastic, and began to flip chairs on top of them to get them out of the water. We moved lamps, and "antique" radios that didn't even WORK, because to my mother, "EVERY THING'S worth saving!!"

While picking up a speaker that went to a radio that moved from the house YEARS ago I began to have a flashback. Last summer, I was moving into my BEAUTIFUL/expensive apartment on campus for my last semester of summer classes. I called my cousin and two friends to help me move. After packing many of my things, my room and entire floor was covered in random sheets of paper and knick-knacks. My friend Torrey came up to help me, entered my room and got this look of surprise and disappointment when he realized that the "30 minute moving excursion" I falsely promised him was going to take HOURS. As patient as he is, he still helped me without complaining, and helped me pick up the crap... errrr... I mean knick-knacks and paper off my floor and put them into a random shopping bag I had, with the intent of taking them to my new place.

"Kendra," Torrey had just picked up a shoe that didn't have a mate off my floor. "I hate to say this, but I think you're sort of a pack-rat." The moment he said these words, my life flashed before my eyes. I saw my grandmother sitting down in her living room with things askew and a random tile lying on her hardwood floor, amiss all the other things. I saw my mother proudly put some "California Raisins" figurines on the desk in our office saying what a great find they were, and she would sell them on "Ebay" (five years later... enough said). Then, I saw me in my potential future, sitting in my living room as an old woman, hair a mess, glasses missing one arm and slipping down my face. My grand kids would come in, and look confused as to where to sit, because all of my crap....this time, I really mean crap.... was inhabiting all the chairs and couches. As they stood, I picked up a sheet of paper and explain: "Babes, this paper was stuck to the shoe of Barack Obama, ain't that something, babes?!"

I looked at Torrey, and gave him a huge hug. I grabbed my trash can and started dumping things in. I was visibly upset, not just for the fact that in the future I would no longer have my perfect 20/20 vision (which, to be honest, was already beginning to go now), but for the times I ridiculed my mother for keeping things that seemed so irrelevant. Now, here I am in the same boat!!

I was able to get rid of three bags filled with my "knick-knacks" and actually shortened my moving adventure. I promised myself that was a future I could not, WOULD NOT allow myself to have!!

While picking the speaker out of the water, I began to wonder if I was relapsing back into my pack-rat syndrome, and mentally made a list of things to throw away.

So to you, readers, no matter what family disposition you might have a potential of inheriting (addiction, abuse, or a lack to throw things away), the good news is: that does not have to be your future. For every locked window, there's a door, and the key to open my door was to throw away my random shoe (that I ended up finding the mate for in the back of my home closet). For all of you, I hope you can discover your keys as well!!

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

The Short Rebel

2009-05-15T09:49:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

Every now and then I find myself extremely mentally fatigued due to being overly aware of how people see me. There’s an unbearable pressure I find people put on me to adhere to a type of perception they have.

The pressure started my first day of high school. When I first moved from Alabama, my family moved to East St. Louis. We lived there for a while and then moved to another town in southern Illinois. Even though we lived in a predominately White town, we continued to go to school in East St. Louis (from first grade until eighth grade).

Besides learning about reading, writing, and arithmetic we were also taught society’s perception. My teachers would sit us down, and explain to us that when we go outside the realms of East St. Louis, people are watching us. They expect us to be ignorant, but we had to prove them wrong. You could get in the same amount of trouble speaking “Ebonics” in class as well as being disruptive. I thought that my teachers were being too harsh, until my first day of high school.

Being at the predominately White school I didn’t necessarily feel out of place, but I did feel a need to prove myself. Most of the people in my high school went to elementary and middle school together, so they already knew each other. Because I was new people preceded me with caution. Then, when word got out that I was enrolled in East St. Louis schools prior to coming to my high school my first year I was treated as if I was deficient in intellect. The teachers would explain things to me slowly and loudly, and then look at me with a sense of sorrow as they imagined my life walking past dead bodies, dodging shootouts, and standing in line with my drug addicted single mother at the Welfare counter. People didn’t want to accept that my life was the complete opposite. I grew up in a two parent household that was upper middle class. No matter how many times I said it, my teachers and classmates thought I was trying to hide my shame.

Some of my White peers ACTUALLY expected me to know how to freestyle (“What, you don’t know how?!”), and teach them the “Black hand shake.” (“Ummm… WHAT HAND SHAKE?!”) Instead of being called my name I would be called: “K-Dawg,” and asked to “go off” on certain people (“like a Black girl does.”) Surprised looks came across some faces when I could not perform expectantly, explain that I’ve never been shot at, and “no, I did not know where Tupac is.”

Then, when I thought that I would find refuge in people of my own color I got the “You’re not Black enough” comment. Because I spoke properly, and refused to go with them to “hang out” in East St. on the weekends (Who does that?! On the weekends, people from East St. Louis come to MY neighborhood to hang out, go to the mall, and go to the movies). Comments would be shot my way, and then a look of surprise would come across their faces when I said something back at them (“You sound like a dude.” “Well, you look like one.”)

I was lucky enough to have a group of friends that didn’t hold me hostage to the bonds of stereotypes and accepted me for the person that I am; not how people would have liked me to behave. These people made my time in high school priceless, and I will be forever indebted to them.

But when I entered the realm of college, the color line seemed smudged and I didn’t have to try so hard to break people’s perception of me color- wise. But, I did have to deal with perceptions on my demeanor, my beliefs, and the way I look. I’m a happy person, but people tend to think that because I’m happy, I’m void of intellectual thoughts. Then, if I’m having a bad day, I would ACTUALLY have people come up to me and tell me that I shouldn’t frown or look angry, because people expect me to be happy (“Maybe I would be happier if you got out of my face.”)

I’m a Christian, and because of that people assumed that I am close minded and judgmental, when I’m the complete opposite (now I am). I cut off 16 inches of relaxed hair to be fully natural, and I find myself paranoid going on job interviews because studies have shown that people with straight hair are seen as more professional.

Sometimes I feel as though people expect me to put on Black face, smile obsessively, grab a slice of watermelon and tap dance next to a young Shirley Temple. If I do that, would I finally be able to be fully accepted? When can I finally get to be me? The girl who has imperfections, insecurities, and sometimes doesn’t have all the answers?

I don’t know about the rest of you, but I think I’m going to wash my face and retire my tap shoes…

STAY ENCOURAGED AND HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND!! SEE YOU ALL MONDAY!!

The Coke and the Mouse

2009-05-14T08:55:00.001-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

Being aware of how you’re seen to the public can become a burden for some (I’ll explain this more tomorrow), but for others, it can be your ticket to freedom. Knowing how society sees you can give you opportunities to do things knowing that you have the agency to get away with it. There’s an autonomy I have as a woman I know men do not have, and there is a freedom that some of my White male friends have expressed to me that literally left me speechless.

I’m 5’3. At a young age, I knew that I would NEVER become a supermodel, due to my lack of height and large hips. I’m okay with this, but while in college I was given an opportunity to address my model pipe dream and finally satisfy my urge to walk on a runway accompanied with Gwen Stefani music playing. I tried out for a fashion show and made it.

During practice, if they were working on a skit I wasn’t a part of, I would engage the other people into conversation. A lot of the time it would be me in a group of predominately White guys talking and laughing. One night we were discussing what we find ourselves doing while bored. Some of the things were: going on Facebook for hours, having Dr. Pepper chugging contests (okay, that one was mine, but I’ve only participated in two chugging contests, okay?), and just walking around the campus aimlessly. With the topic of walking around campus, one of the guys tells us:

“Yeah!! One day, me and my frat bros were bored, so we decided to go for a walk around campus. We ended up seeing this dead mouse, and we wanted to see what the effects of cocaine would do on its insides. So, we opened the mouse, poured some coke in him and watched.”

I sat there stunned. There were so many things in that conversation that baffled me, so I started asking questions. “Coke, like Coca-Cola?! The soda? Or coke like Tony Montana’s coke?!”

Then, another guy in our group explained how him and some of his frat brothers did the same thing, but with ecstasy pills. My mouth is hanging wide open. I’m thinking in my head: “So… you just walk around with hard drugs on you? You aren’t even afraid that the police will randomly pat you down?!” My heart started pounding and I’m looking around paranoid, because I was SURE Johnny Depp, in his “21 Jump Street” garb was going to jump from the vents and arrest ME for just being around them.

Now, I’m sort of a square, I’ve never done any type of drugs in my life. Not saying this to make myself appear so pious, but for the fear that the ONE time I decide to experiment, that’s when the cops are going to be following me like Henry Hill in a helicopter and have a raid (“Goodfellas” reference).

Am I being completely paranoid? No. There were many times that walking from another dorm, or from the gym wearing my hoodie (on a campus were EVERYONE wears hoodies) a cop would stop me, ask for my ID, and ask me which way I’m going, while my White peers walked past without being questioned (or if they were, I never personally saw it).

I’m not too sure if my Fashion Show fellas were completely aware of the freedom that they had. I was in awe of the fact that they could walk around society with the liberty of knowing that being educated, upper class White males made them exempt from pointless police questionings, not being followed while going shopping, and going to a restaurant with the freedom of eating and THEN paying.

After practice my coke-wielding friend offered me a ride home, and I declined citing my love for riding the bus. When in reality, I just KNEW that him driving me in his beautiful red Mustang was going to be the day that he would get pulled over, searched, and we would get thrown in jail. He made it to his frat house without any problems. While walking from the bus stop to my dorm, I got asked for my ID…

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

The Missing Identity

2009-05-13T08:08:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

Is there an advantage to losing your identity to be able to fit into the norm? To be accepted, or to make a persona for yourself that’s more popular? I personally do not see the advantage, because anytime I tried changing myself, I was always shunned. I learned years ago that being myself was the only way that I would be socially accepted.
It seems as though people do not like anything counterfeit. The same way how my father refuses to buy food that is not name brand (“IT’S NOT REAL FOOD!!”), people do not seem to take kindly to a person who has a missing, generic identity. Though this is true, there are many people who go out of their way to lose their identity in lew of trying to create a veneer to impress others, or to behave the way they believe they are portrayed. I once lost a friendship due to this same issue.

For years I was friends with a girl who had an AMAZING personality. Whenever I THINK about her personality, I smile because it brought not only me, but those who were blessed to know her so much joy. Seriously, this girl was GREAT!! The only problem was whenever she dated someone she would change her ENTIRE identity to fit his lifestyle. She dropped any and all individual interests and picked up his, even if his interests were things she has previously claimed she hated.

She once dated a guy from Texas, and EVERY time we drove in her car the radio was on COUNTRY MUSIC, even though two years early she would describe her hatred for country music (which was something that we bonded on). Dating a guy who’s in Rock music, we would go shopping to find her AC/DC shirts. Then, I would have to describe the certain music they, Poison, or Guns N Roses made (I told you, I have a VERY eclectic music taste). Wanna date a gothic boy? She wore nothing but black clothes, large amounts of eyeliner and refused to smile while they dated. She normally hated blue collar comedy, but with her new man decided to get tickets to see Larry the Cable Guy on stage!!

WHERE WAS MY FRIEND?! I would become so disappointed, and I would often find myself praying that she would find a boyfriend that gave her enough confidence to just be herself, the same person that attracted him to her in the first place. I would want to tell her this, but she was such a hothead that there was a possibility that an argument would ensue, and I didn’t want to take that chance. So, I (and anyone else who was associated with her) suffered in silence while we PRAYED that our friend was still alive, somewhere underneath the façade.

It wasn’t until she met someone who did not care for MY personality that things began to change for us. Though he and I never had a full conversation, he made a decision about the person I was, and I would find out that he would later say things to her about me. I remember asking her if she truly believed these things seeing that she knew me for over nine years, while he only knew me for around nine days. She looked confused at me and changed the subject.

I realized that our long running friendship was coming to an end. I saw my friend constantly lose herself to save a relationship, was I willing to do the same? No. That friendship was extremely important to me, and sometimes it makes me sad that I lost it. However, I become extremely overjoyed when I realized that I refused to lose myself.

So to you, dear readers, even if you’re imitating your favorite stars, or the most popular person around, the only person that is worth being is yourself.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Corrections and Perceptions

2009-05-12T09:02:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

A mistake was brought to my attention. After reading yesterday’s blog post, my sister alerted my attention to the fact that Charles Cooley was the Sociologist who came up with “The Looking Glass Self,” and DuBois’ theory was “Double Consciousness.” Though both theories do have an overlapping quality to them, I still felt like a complete idiot when she reminded me. However, like the sociologists’ theories, this story, and my planned post for today, share overlapping qualities as well.

In high school, I became friends with a blonde girl named *Janet. Janet and I were opposites in every sense. I am a naturally gregarious person, and she would sometimes scream “I HATE PEOPLE!!” I’m Black, she’s White, and I’m a very friendly person to strangers, whereas, she wasn’t until she got to know them. Like Oscar and Felix, Janet and I were able to make our friendship work for years. Though our lives were able to meld together into this type of harmonious symphony, there were always certain life perspectives that we both weren’t privy to in each others’ lives.

Our junior year of high school, we took the ACT and the PSAT. Taking those tests meant that afterwards we got out of school early. Janet, *Michelle (our other Black friend at the time), and I decided to dress up, and after the tests, were going to go to St. Louis, and eat at a restaurant connected to Union Station, then go shopping at the Galleria (a prestigious large shopping mall in St. Louis).

We arrive at Union Station to be promptly escorted off the premises by security. Janet releases a stream of profanities at the security officers and Michelle looks frightened. I pull one security officer to the side and ask him politely why we were being removed. He explained that the law in Missouri dictated that no one under the age of 18 were allowed on any mall premises until after 5pm, due to an increase of high school students skipping class and spending their school time in the Food Court.

Once he tells me this, I relay the information to Janet and Michelle, and I try to organize a walk back to the Metrolink so we could ride back to sunny southern Illinois were the malls allowed people of all ages to run rampant at any time of the day. Michelle was up for the change of venue, while Janet continued to curse… and curse… and then when you thought she was done, she came back with an encore!! I had never heard so much profanity from one person, and one of my favorite movies is “Goodfellas. ” I saw the worried look on Michelle’s face, and then I was brought back to possible consequences that we could face. The reality was that even though our White friend was the only one yelling and cursing, when people walked past us, they commented on the rude and vulgar GIRLS, not girl. Even though we stood there quietly, Micelle and I were culpable of Janet’s intense behavior. Why? Because that’s what’s expected of minorities, is it not? We finally get Janet on the Metrolink, and we explain to her that she couldn’t behave in that manner with us in tow. She looks at us and says something that truly made me realize that even though Janet and I were best friends, we really did live in two different worlds. “Why?! What are they going to do to ME?”

Janet lived in a world that the possibilities of societal punishment weren’t as great for her as it was for me and Micelle. She was able to yell, and curse, but if she came back into that store the next day, she would be seen as a proper young lady, a consumer and treated as so, NOT a potential shoplifter or a volcano of profanities waiting to erupt. Janet had a freedom of living her life without the worries of the same consequences that Michelle and I had.

In the same way I believed that having a degree would make me less likely to screw up on my own blog!! There are certain privileges that are obtained in society that brings a sense of freedom that makes you less aware of consequences (like being smug and thinking that just because Sociology was my minor, I didn’t need to check my sources). Some people are able to use their sense of the Looking Glass Self (AND Double Consciousness) to their advantage.

Tomorrow, let’s discuss this even further, shall we?

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

A Lack of the Looking Glass Self

2009-05-11T09:25:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

This week’s topic is about self-perception. The theory that my blog has its basis on is Dubois’ “Looking Glass Self” theory. This theory dictates that minorities tend to behave in the way that they are perceived; however, in my life, I realized that this theory is not just limited to minorities. I believe that all people have this sense of self-perception and behave in a manner that reinforces how society sees them. Some people have more freedom than others, while some (like myself) are too knowledgeable of how they’re viewed and is constantly nervous of how they are being perceived.

About a month ago I arrived back from visiting a friend in Chicago. I got off the bus, and walked over to the train to head back to my home town. While waiting on the platform a group of Black teenagers walked onto the same platform. Wearing their school uniforms, they began chasing and hitting one another. They were screaming, throwing “Sour Patch Kids” candies at each other, and the boys were hitting the girls in their faces while the girls giggled with excitement.

Besides the rambunctious teenagers, I was the only other Black on the platform. People of other races were looking petrified of all the action, while I just stood there looking annoyed. It seemed as though the teenagers were purposely trying to scare some of the people. They yelled things about how the town was named most dangerous city a year ago, and purposely hit viewers with their candy. The teenagers never approached me, and never got too close into my own personal bubble.

Their train came, and they continued their shenanigans while riding North Bound. The others on the platform looked relieved that they were gone, but still looked cautiously my way as if I was a ticking time bomb of ignorance waiting to happen. An adorable White family, wearing their Cardinal garb waited patiently for our South Bound train to arrive. Their cute son with his bowl hair cut still looked afraid and stared at me. He then looked at his father and said: “Daddy, do they ALL act like that?” The father nervously looked in my direction, and promptly escorted his family to the opposite end of the platform from where I was. The son kept looking in my direction, scared and nervous, while my frustration level grew.

I wasn’t frustrated with the little boy, or his squeamish family, or the other people on the platform. I was angry with my race. An endless stream of questions ran through my head that I still try to answer them on a daily basis. Is this REALLY how we’re portraying ourselves to others? Why is it considered BLACK to behave ignorantly? Is this some people’s normal behavior; or do they only behave in such a manner because they believe they are expected to?

This week, we’ll discuss this on not only a minority basis, but on a Caucasian basis as well. Is there a privilege that comes with knowing that your skin color makes you less culpable of things in society?

This week, let’s discuss!!

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Won't You be My Neighbor?

2009-05-08T08:52:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

There was a point in time that I believed the gap between the sexes was widened past my own understanding. Maybe men are the more sensible sex, and maybe women do tend to take more verbal low blows than their male counterparts? I began to believe the adage of “Men are from Mars; Women are from Venus.” It wasn’t until I looked at popular culture that I saw that not only do Black men and women live on the same planet, but we’re also next door neighbors. Living in a “neighborhood” that finds it acceptable to berate any and all people of opposition.

Now, is it just me, or does it seem like immature feuding and “beefs” are the norm in African American music right now? Particularly rap. I’m a person who listens to a plethora of music, and I have to say, I don’t really hear Bono taking swipes at Chris Martin. While U2 and Coldplay make great music and use their popularity towards the global good, you see rappers using their popularity and their music to bring the rapper next to him down to feed his own popularity.

The act of purposely trying to lower someone else to make yourself feel better is not only transparent, but illuminates your own insecurities. I personally feel sorry for some of these rappers. You can tell that all they want is attention, and just like the new kid on the playground, they feel like they have to prove themselves.

But amongst my pity comes a sense of indignation. Black people, do you NOT realize that we live in a society that already has a negative image of us, and every time one of these “diss tracks” come out, it just reinforces the negative stereotypes? Is it not bad enough that we are portrayed in popular culture as ignorant, lazy, and overly aggressive? Do we not see an issue of having some of the world’s ill’s thrust upon our shoulders (Affirmative Action, Welfare) when we’re not even the main recipients of it?!

Why do we continue to reward this immature behavior with album sales, or attention?

As these weeks’ topic comes to a close, it is evident that we all have insecurities, and that is fine. What is not acceptable is resulting to childish behavior to excel in life. I moved out of my old neighborhood, where are you living now?

STAY ENCOURAGED, HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND AND HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!! SEE YOU MONDAY!!

Pimpin' Ken and the Joys of "Orgism"

2009-05-07T08:05:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

During the times that I’m not reading Nietzsche, doing freelance writing, or embedded in deep thoughts for this blog (‘So, if I add the soda to value meal, then it’ll be cheaper…?’) I’m watching TV. One of my favorite shows is Black Men Revealed. This show comes on TVOne, and it consists of a panel of five Black men who discuss issues that are prevalent to the Black community. These topics range from sexual attraction to women, the dark skinned-light skinned debate, or Black men as fathers. I personally enjoy the show because it offers a perspective that (being a Black woman) I am not entirely privy to.

In an episode entitled: “Bed, Bath and Beyond: Fantasies and Frustrations” the panel included a relationships expert, a comedian, and for some reason a former pimp. Now, I understand the logistics for making the choice of having a former pimp on the show, due to the fact that his former [despicable] profession lent itself to aiding men with their sexual fantasies by selling women. I understand this. However, I do not understand Pimpin’ Ken.

Pimpin’ Ken, who is a self-proclaimed relationships expert spent most of his time on the show belittling the other men on the panel. He started off with the relationships expert (Hasani Pettiford). When Hasani was asked for his advice on what makes men stray from their wives and significant others, before he could finish his thought, Pimpin’ Ken tried to discredit the man (who has multiple degrees) by addressing his concern that Mr. Pettiford probably had not been in many relationships in his past. The former pimp (really, Black Men Revealed?! You HAD to get a pimp?!) then begins to condemn Hasani on the way that he talks (“You trying to talk all proper, talk like a brother!”).

After Ken finishes with the expert, he moves on to the comedian, Special K. The comedian, who in my opinion, finished telling a hilarious anecdote, had Pimpin’ Ken turn to him and say: “You’ll never make money like Will Smith. You’re not that funny.” Before I realized it, the words: “WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING?!” came spewing from my mouth. I was annoyed. First Hasani, now Special K?!

Once Pimpin’ Ken is convinced that he has discredited everyone on the panel (even though he did the complete opposite) he begins to tell his theories on sexual attraction and the gift on the “orgism.” No, I did not misspell “orgasm”, he actually pronounced the word as “orgism,” and my closed captioning reinforced what my ears heard. He gave his theories on the proper way to steal another man’s wife, and then plugged his book. He sat back in his seat with a satisfied grin on his face, as if he had won the title of Alpha Male on the show. Pimpin’ Ken did not realize that with his display of ignorance and obvious show of insecurity, he portrayed himself to be the weakest male on the panel, and just reinforced to the many viewers of Black Men Revealed how when a man is feeling weak amongst strong men, his insecurities will cause him to try to bring others down with him.

Pimpin’ Ken, good luck on your never ending pursuit to try to find a woman to orgism for you, whatever THAT is.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

The Stockholm-Fight-Club of Brotherhood

2009-05-06T08:04:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

One sunny day my sophomore year of college I walked home from class. Parked in front of my dorm was a white Lincoln filled with four men. While walking past it the door opens, and a shabby looking guy jumped out hissing my name. It looks like _____, but it CAN’T be him. My friend _____ usually looks so suave and smooth. This guy looks a little dirty, his hair is unkempt and he has bruises all over his face. He comes closer to me, and I see that it is in fact _____.
“Kendra, little red men are chasing me, I need to borrow some money.”
“_____, are you okay?!” I’m concerned, because instead of looking like he was asking people for money, it was appearing that he was asking people to “Hit me as hard as you can.” He seemed annoyed that I keep on asking him what happened, and he keeps on repeating the schpill about the little red men and money. I finally tell him that I have no money, but I did know the number for a shelter for him to get help at. He disregards my offer of help and jumps back in the car.

In my dorm room, I relay my conversation with _____ to my roommate and best friend Tammi. Before I can finish, her cell phone rings. It’s him, and he’s repeating the phrase about the little red men and money. Tammi grabs $30 from her wallet, runs outside and gives it to him. She comes back into the dorm, and shares in my concern for our friend (“Kendra, I think he might be on drugs…”).

There was never a point in time that the thought of “pledge” or “fraternity” crossed our minds. When _____ crossed into his elite frat, and paid Tammi back her money, he came to our dorm (properly dressed, bruises subsiding, with his hair finally cut) and apologized for the “randomness.” He explains that this is what he had to do to join his frat, and he could not give anymore answers than that.

At that point, the gap between the sexes widened even more for me. I could not wrap my mind around why anyone would purposely and knowingly join an institution that physically abuses you. After doing a little research on the concept, I learned that this type of male bonding is not limited to fraternities, but also happens to rookies in sports, and privates in the Armed Forces. Where I saw Stockholm’s Syndrome, the males in my life saw it as bonding. The movie “Fight Club” became very relevant for me at that moment.

Now, please do not get me wrong, I have no problem with fraternities. I do respect them, and there is a type of camaraderie that is present amongst the “bruhs” that is visual to anyone who observes. I guess were men do not understand how women can be so openly malicious to one another, I personally cannot understand how men are able to bond through their fists.

I will say this though, after that day with _____, I had nightmares for three weeks straight about red martians with baseball bats, chains, and brass knuckles chasing me.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

The Reality of the Insecure Male

2009-05-05T08:30:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

Insecurity is a strange concept for me to understand. My confusion does not come from what causes insecurities in our lives, but what the behavior we choose to adhere to when we feel ourselves become insecure. As stated before, women come off as catty, while men’s behavior is so easily forgiven and transferable that it makes women seem even more malevolent.

My freshman year of college I met a guy who would turn out to become one of my best friends for years. This guy became as close to me as a family member, and he was accepted into my family and vice versa. He was my go-to person for problems and I was his. There was seldom a time when we weren’t together, and that close bond caused people to think that our friendship was not platonic. So much so, that we resorted to telling everyone that we were just family members to explain our friendship to those who could not understand the great nature of platonic friendships between men and women.

Any guy I dated while in college became uncomfortable with my “cousin” and would take any opportunity they had to try to reveal something about him to me that would make him seem less desirable. One guy refused to come into my room until I removed my friend’s hat out of the room entirely. The thing that always confused me was that these men I was dating would also be friends with my best friend. Now that I’m thinking about it, I would meet these guys THROUGH my guy friend.

One year in college I started seeing a guy who was very uncomfortable with this friendship. I could not understand why he was upset about it, because my boyfriend and my guy friend were pretty good friends. Being the person that I was, I began to pull away from my friendship to make my boyfriend feel a little more secure in his standing. But, I kept a standing appointment with my guy friend to see him every Friday night after dinner while my boyfriend worked. I got home later that Friday night and heard a slightly irate message on my answering machine from my boyfriend demanding where I was. I tell him and my boyfriend launches in on this mild tirade about how he doesn’t really want me spending ANY time with my friend. He reveals information about my friend that I already knew, but to a point that made me think twice about both of them.

I began to feel like I was in a sea of spiteful behavior and drowning in it. I had to fight the urge to buy ALL of the men in my life some Midol, because I was ABSOLUTELY certain that it HAD to be their time of the month. I mean, why would GROWN men behave in such a juvenile manner?!

After months of a he said-he said battles between the two, somehow I became culpable of the immaturity that was coming from both of their mouths. Then, one day, after a phone conversation, I was made culpable of their discretions. Both of these men were denying things that they said about the other to me, but there was no other way I could have known these things if they weren’t told me to (“How did I know about this stuff if you didn’t say it? Through my ever present clairvoyance?!”).

The easy solution came as “let’s blame Kendra!” I became culpable of things that never came from my mouth, but it was easier to put the childish, malicious behavior on me, the female, than for the men to address their own insecurities. To this day, I’m not too sure about what was said between the two, but all I knew was, my ex’s catty behavior was transferred onto me, and because I was a woman my friend was very quick to believe whatever lies were said about me, even though he knew the type of person that I was. Because I was a woman, my friend was more likely to believe that I said horrible things about him, rather than believe that another guy would say those things.

That summer I lost an extremely important friendship. We are now in the process of rebuilding it, but the actuality of the situation is that I might never be able to regain the closeness I had with my best friend. He truly did mean the world to me, but due to someone else’s insecure behavior, I might have lost a relationship that had the potential to withstand the test of time, but not the test of male jealousy.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Crabs in a Barrel

2009-05-04T08:25:00.001-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

Last week was a hard week for women. We came off looking malicious and petty. While this is true for some women (and everyone has their moments), I’m an equal opportunity blaster. This week is for the men.

Now men, for some reason, you’ve been able to slip under the conniving radar. You’re seen as the more sensible of the sexes, least likely to resort to the tomfoolery that women are categorized for. However, men become self-conscious, and indulge in a different type of behavior that’s not as overt as women.

This syndrome is commonly referred to as the “Crabs in a Barrel” syndrome. With crabs in a barrel or bucket, you could watch one crab try to crawl out of the bucket. Before the crab can complete his escape, another crab grabs him and pulls him back down.

With my friendships with men, I have witnessed men indulging in this syndrome. I would have one friend (Friend A) who was doing well in classes, and had a healthy relationship. Another one of those friends was slowly flunking out, and felt self-conscious around women. Instead of bulking down at the library, and working on his confidence with women, he began to bring the other friend down. He began to encourage Friend A with alcohol, and other women. He held impromptu parties at friend A’s house, and insisted on embarrassing friend A as much as possible in front of women. Now, was friend B the crab trying to pull the other down, or is the adage true (“misery loves company”)?

This week we’re going to explore this syndrome. When one man is trying to better himself, does another purposely try to bring him back down? Or is it that when one man is trying to pull himself out of the bucket, the other man is so zealous to get out as well that he grabs on to help himself escape, but ends up pulling the other man back into the same pit they started in? Why does this syndrome seem so prevalent in the Black community, and even in popular culture?

This week let’s observe and discuss.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

A Woman after her own Conniving Heart

2009-05-01T09:27:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

Any person who has went to college and did summer school can see a stark difference between the different semesters. During fall and spring semesters, things seem very hectic. There a multitude of people scrambling around you, with tangible nervous energy that seems to rub off on you. Professors are slightly irritable, and the students seem lethargic.
Summer classes were my bread and butter. The classes were smaller, making them more intimate and relaxed. With the reduced number of students, you didn’t feel like you were drowning in a sea of stressed out peers.
With the relaxed nature of summer classes, came the dichotomous feel of drama. For some reason, love seemed to run rampant on U of I’s grounds during the summer. People fell hard for one another, but then would suffer a horrible and malicious breakup war. Sometimes fliers would be passed around with the cheating partner’s picture and a positive STD test, rumors would run rampant, and one ex partner would hack into his/her ex partner’s Facebook and do some damage to their social standing.

Here’s where I come in. At a young age I learned how to effectively deal with jealousy. Within my family of four sisters, I am number three. I never felt jealous of my sisters until we started going to the same schools. Before our education lives merged, I was the adorable girl in class with the speech impediment and long hair. People LOVED me!! But when my family moved to Illinois and got enrolled in schools, I was no longer the adorable girl. I then became the “cousin” of the two “pretty girls.” Feeling with these types of inadequacy helped me at a young age to confront any jealous feelings I had. I truly felt that I had overcame such an “archaic emotion” (yeah… that’s what I used to describe jealousy as) and I wouldn’t be confronted with it anymore.

Until one summer session in college that thing called jealous reared its ugly head and my actions were just as hideous. All around campus that summer, there was a very public breakup. Due to infidelity one partner gave the other Chlamydia, and it was literally broadcasted all over the campus. Fliers were posted, rumors were spread, and pictures of the positive STD test with one of the partner’s name were available for all to see.

While talking on the phone with my boyfriend (who was back home for the summer) I was getting ready to go out with a couple of my friends. I don’t know what possessed him to make this type of comment to me, but he tells me that he is ran into a girl he was previously attracted to and he might hang out with her. Now, here’s the kicker, she was the female counterpart of the malicious breakup, and it was her name on the positive Chlamydia test. I do not know if it was the third workout speaking, or the lack of food, but before I knew it her name and Chlamydia came shooting out of my mouth like pea soup from Linda Blair’s.
I never realized how much my confidence was slipping due to this relationship, and it caused me to become malicious and childlike. Yes, my friends, you could have called me Ponce de Leon, because in that moment, I discovered were the Fountain of Youth was. It was mixture of my own insecurities and catty behavior!! Jump in and revert to an immature child like I did, before the fountain runs dry!!

I felt horrible, and actually lost some respect for the person looking back at me in the mirror. Even if the information was broadcast for many to see, does not mean that I should have been a walking PSA.
I took that situation and learned to work on myself. Now, whenever I feel the urge to jump back in that fountain, I just remind myself that I can’t swim.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!
Have a GREAT weekend, and I'll see you on Monday!!

The Black Beauty Pageant Syndrome

2009-04-30T09:50:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

For all women, I feel like there’s a pressure to look… presentable on a daily basis. For Black women, that pressure seems to be exponentially larger. Please do not get me wrong, I’m sure that this pressure is present for women of all races, but I can only speak on my own personal experiences as a Black woman.

Now ladies, when did this pressure to dress up first appear? For me, it was in fourth grade. Before that, I was content on having my mother buy my clothes, and in the mornings, I would put them on. But, when I entered fourth grade, brand names like: “Tommy Hilfiger,” “Nautica,” and “Polo” were the brands to have. If you didn’t have those brands, you might as well have taken your Walmart bought clothes to the other side of the playground. You might as well have been a leper.
I began to become obsessed with getting those brands. At Christmas time, when some children were still asking for toys, my Christmas list consisted of apparel; and Lord help my parents if they didn’t get me the name brands that I wanted. (“Umm… Levi’s??”)

As I got older, the pressure seemed to get heavier. It wasn’t the brand name anymore, it was just how you looked in the clothes. I would find myself doing an hour of crunches every night just so I could fit in those stupid lo-rise jeans that CONSTANTLY exposed my crack!!
When I got to college, I became aware of a type of syndrome I felt I and a large majority of Black girls feel. I felt that whenever I knew I was going to be in an area where there was going to be a substantial number of Black GIRLS, I felt like I had to dress up. If I had a class with just ONE other Black girl in it, I would wake up two hours early to flat iron my hair. My outfit matched in the most intricate fashions. I would walk in class and see the other Blacks girls look at me, in their fierce outfits as well, and we would give each other the knowing nod of: “Yeah… it took me over an hour to get ready too.”

It wasn’t until one summer of walking around campus with a friend that I realized I wasn’t alone. While walking past a group of Black girls, my friend started panicking. “Oh my goodness, I KNEW I shouldn’t have worn my sweatpants out the apartment!! They’re gonna talk about me…”

One morning in my senior year of college, I woke up lethargic. I jumped out of bed, with shooting pains from my body due to the stress the bulimia was putting on it. As I walked to my closet, I noticed large piles of my hair on my floor. I opened the double doors of my closet and immediately felt fatigued. I began to realize that I was so worried about impressing these girls with my outfits, that I wasn’t worrying about my inside.

I realized that the only person I needed to worry about impressing was myself. It doesn’t matter if people like my outfit if I didn’t like the person staring back in the mirror at me. For the first time since my obsession with clothes, I put on a pair of sweatpants, joined a counseling group and didn’t care what anyone thought about how I was dressed. I made a promise to myself that I was taking myself out of the running of the Beauty Pageant, and placed myself in the running of getting better.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

*Lisa from The Real Housewives of Atlanta: “When you’re getting dressed, you more so get dressed for the women…”*

Adam's Conniving Eve

2009-04-29T08:25:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

I decided that today we’re going to explore the thought of the conniving woman from the male’s point of view. To men, the conniving woman is an Eve who uses her sex appeal to get what she wants. This Eve’s eyes are on his money as a prize, and once she gets that new Gucci bag, or Prada snake skinned shoes, she’s going to disappear like the Garden of Eden. Men get this apple of perception of women through music and videos, and take a big bite out of it, forming their views of the conniving woman.

The summer of my sophomore year of college I went back to work at Busch Stadium in St. Louis, MO. I was a supervisor. Being a [good] supervisor required most of my time walking, checking on, and delivering things to my workers. I found a path that would lead me straight to my carts, and straight back to the supervisor area without turning around.
One day, while heading back to the supervisor area to get more things for my workers, I passed the VIP area and heard a loud knocking. It was extremely sunny that day and the sun was causing a reflection in the glass. I saw a large hand waving at me, and I could distinguish figures in the room, but I could not see faces. Being the person that I am, I waved and smiled while I kept my steady pace. I figured it was someone who worked in that area who knew me.

Every single time I walked past that room, there was the knocking. I began to feel annoyed. One venture past the glass, clouds covered the sun and I could FINALLY see who was trying to get my attention. It was a man in his mid twenties or so, and he gestures for me go to the door of the room. I do so, thinking that maybe this person would need something from my company.
“________ would like to talk to you.”
The name didn’t ring a bell to me. He was an up and coming musical force that is prevalent now, but at that time, I didn’t know who he was. At home, my mother didn’t allow us to listen to secular music, and whenever I was driving my mother’s car I would always listen to a tape, so I was behind on the music ________ was putting out.
Apparently, the big press of St. Louis from Nelly and Chingy encouraged big stars to come and experience St. Louis for themselves.

I walk into the smoke filled room and see a man sitting on a red couch; he obviously was the focal point of the room, while everyone buzzed around him, tending to his every need.
He encouraged me to sit down, but I declined citing that I would have to leave soon to do another set of rounds. He tells me of how he wants to take me out, and perform many acts that an 18 year old should never do without parental approval, and a parachute. I pause, because at this moment, I STILL had NO idea WHO HE WAS!! Take me out, who ARE you?! Instead of saying what’s flying in my head, I tell him no, I was seeing someone at the moment.
“What is that supposed to mean to me?! Don’t you know who I AM?!!”
“Ummm… am I supposed to?” I was genuinely confused. I had NO idea who this guy was. I figured that maybe he wanted a snow cone and wanted me to grab him one.
“B-----!! GET OUT MY ROOM!!” As I walked away EXTREMELY confused by the interaction he continues to yell. “I’M TIRED OF ALL THESE CONNIVING WOMEN!! ALWAYS TRYING TO USE THEIR SEX APPEAL TO USE MEN!! THAT’S PROBABLY WEAVE IN HER HAIR ANYWAY… THOSE WHACK A—CURLS!!”

I tried to piece together what just happened. HE approached ME… wait…. Now WHAT just happened?! He insulted my hair that was curled due to a date I went on the previous night. I’m wearing my work uniform… WHAT SEX APPEAL?! I AM SWEATY WITH FLAT CURLS!!
When I get to one of my stands, my worker tells me that a man has been waiting for me. My heart jumps because it’s either the crazy celebrity that wanted to yell at me some more, or a horrified parent who just found a rat’s head in his son’s kettle corn. Either way, I didn’t want to deal with the situation, but I had to.
The man walks up to me and hands me a business card. I look down and see that it’s for a popular strip club in East St. Louis. “I just want to let you know that I’ve been watching you, and I think that you would make a really good addition to the _____ Club-“ I drop the card and walk away incredulously. Apparently I was wearing my “Please make a salacious comment to me” sandwich board today and NO ONE told me. As I walked away, he began to yell: “Well, if you didn’t want that attention, you shouldn’t have came to work dressed like that…”

You know, whenever one of _________’s songs comes on the radio or television… I just change the channel… Hmmm… how about them apples?

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Only in Reality...

2009-04-28T08:54:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

When I was in college I was a Sociology minor. I might have dreaded my Gen Eds, and had to take Stats 100 twice, but when it came down to my English and Sociology classes I was constantly enthralled. I was introduced to literature that showed people overcoming their surroundings with the help of banding together with the person next to them. From Shakespeare, to Karl Marx the importance of strength in numbers was emphasized. In these days, I feel that we have lost that type of camaraderie, especially in the female community.

Today’s airwaves are filled with a mass of reality TV shows. Now, do not get me wrong, I do not have an issue against reality TV. In fact, if VH1 were to make a reality show about paint drying and have Paul F. Tomkins do running commentary on it, I would probably watch it. My issue comes with the women on these shows.
For some reason, these women seem to think that it is perfectly acceptable to constantly insult the girl next to her. (I want to win Flav’s heart, so I’m going to insult this girl’s mustache, and her mother’s hair.) These insults range between her opponent’s weight, to hair type (“I have good hair, and your hair is nappy”), complexion, and face shape. To these women, your entire being is up for insults.
This way of female cattiness is not just limited to the competition shows, but to any show that has all women (“Bad Girls Club”). Now why is that? Why is it that whenever a group of females get together they immediately start insulting one another?

Women, this is a call to you, is this REALLY what we need to be putting out there? I know that reality TV is an exaggerated view of life (how else will you be able to live in a mansion for three months, and NOT have a job), but it seems that this type of cattiness and malicious behavior is molded from our reality. Some women pride themselves on being gold diggers, sex objects, and are able to insult the girl next to her to make her cry. Are these things we should find pride in?! These are not just issues that are found in the realm of our television sets, but this is something that you can see going to the mall, out at restaurants, or (God forbid) outside your house.

Women, could we please get back to the point where we are building each other up? Why do we purposely break each other down, and then seek for a reward because of it? Could we leave the berating behavior on television and become better women in person? I have faith in my female counterparts; let’s rise above the negative stereotypes that are constantly on television.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

The Myth of the Conniving Woman

2009-04-27T08:08:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

This week’s discussion is going to focus on the “conniving” woman. Now, who is this woman? Does she hide under the pretenses of friendship? Is she the woman who sees you in your happy relationship and goes out of her way to steal your mate? When you need her, is she is more elusive than Big Foot, but when she needs you she seems to pop out from the woodwork at your job, your home, mysteriously appears in the back seat of your car? Is she a particular woman, or is she something that comes installed in that other X chromosome?

In my life, I have been blessed to have AMAZING friendships; but these friendships seem to exist in two different worlds. In one world, I have my girl friends, and in a completely separate world I have my guy friends. Each world peacefully coexists, and my life within each world is peaceful, loving, and exciting.
My ventures in having friendships with girls have been great (I’ve been EXTREMELY blessed), but some did not always have pleasant outcomes. I was lucky enough to have had many girl friends in the past and the present that have been loyal, trusting, and was intent on building each other up. Along with those friends, there were the minority of frienemies that would slip under my “fake” radar and would purposely try to embarrass me (shouting in class: “YOUR OUTFITT DOESN”T MATCH!”), berate me (“guys only like you because of your big butt and your long hair”), start rumors about me (stranger: “So, YOU’RE the girl in the backseat of the car?!”), and intentionally turned mutual friends against me (“But, she said you said something about my cousin!!”). Do these women fall under the category of “conniving women”? Have I indulged in likewise behavior due to insecurities? (Don’t worry. I’ll be putting myself on blast this week)
In my guy friends’ world, dealing with “the conniving woman” is a constant. The woman (not every woman, but you know who you are) who is pursuing one of my male friends, for some reason sees me as an enemy and treats me as so. To her, I’M the conniving woman.

Many times in college, I would be hanging out with my group of guy friends and a girl who would be pursuing one of them would come to where we were. She would enter the door of their apartment, or dorm, excited with the expectation of being the only female surrounded by testosterone. With a big smile on her face, she would walk in triumphantly, scan the room, and her face would IMMEDIATELY fall when she saw me. Being the insanely friendly person I am, I would jump up, walk to introduce myself to her. “HI!! MY NAME IS KENDRA!!” I would have a huge Jokeresque smile on my face, and I would extend my hand out to her for a shake. My brain would be racing with the anticipation of making a new friend, and having someone to turn to when the guys began to discuss physical attributes of females that I really did NOT need to know they noticed (guys tend to compare things to animals… a little disturbing…), and then I would get the limp hand grab.

The girl would treat my hand as if touching it was going to burn her, turn her into a pillar of salt, or make all of her hair fall out. Does my hand smell? (“Nah… just smells like Jergens…”). It wasn’t until after the girls got over my friends rejecting them, that they would befriend me and later apologize for their inhospitable behavior due to the fact that they thought that I was “conniving.”

My question for all to ponder is: Why? Why women? Why do we constantly try to bring the broad next to us down? Then for the others, why do we suspect that every woman out there has questionable morals and are trying to set us up for failure? Are there not enough social institutions that try to hold women down, that we need to add to that pressure by holding each other down?! LET’S EVOLVE!!

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Guilt and the Act of Forgiveness

2009-04-24T07:32:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

This week, I've rehashed examples of people using the "good intentions" excuse for tasteless behavior. Even though this certain selection of people were missing their compassion notion (I guess maturity doesn't bring everything we ask for), I have had many family members, friends, and boyfriends that have helped me in the past. These people were able to help me grow when I began to shrink, move when I felt immobile, and smile when I wanted to cry. To these people, I will forever be indebted to you.

However, for the others, I had to undergo a landslide of issues to finally let go. However, I am able to wake up each morning, and be happy with myself, regardless of what "good intentions" people had that tried to make me feel the contrary. Miraculously I've been able to no longer feel animosity towards these people. I realized in life that no one is perfect, and you must have your own "good intentions" for yourself to help you through the day.

Two years ago, I did something that helped me with my own maturity and letting go. It might appear small, but even the littlest action can help you evolve past your own understanding. I wrote an entry about it, and will include it, hoping that it encourages you the same way it encourages me:

The human mind is an extraordinary tool. The amount of information that a person can store is astronomical. The brain was invented for us for positive reasons, but it seems like humans can turn any gift into a horrible monster.
I feel like I am Victor Frankenstein, too obsessed with the monsters I’ve spent so long to create, ignoring all good reason, and the heeds of my loved ones, just to learn that once my creatures have come to life, I always repel from them in horror and disgust.

A few weeks ago, I promised myself that I would forgive certain people in my life, the main one being my ex. I felt good, and I felt like I no longer held any type of animosity towards him. Oh, but how the creature disobeys my demands, and even when I try to bury it, it always come back.

For some reason, all of the anger, pain, and oddly enough, lust (concerning my ex) came back to me, and hit me full force. The same memories that I decided to let go, began to dance around in my head, to a melody that my brain was all too familiar with. I began to remember how my ex would hug me, kiss my forehead, and look at me with his sepia eyes. Then, to stop myself from yearning, I would think of how he would judge everything I ate, how he would lift up my shirt and grab for stomach fat and force me to watch. I would remember how our relationship was such a double standard, and how he would scold me sometimes. I would remember how I bought him many things, and how he never bought me anything. To counteract my feelings of lust and confusion, not love, because I never loved him, I bring up the same memories that I made a promise to forget. Before I realize it, my face is hot, and my mouth is shaped in a scowl. I’ll think of how I wanted to break up with him for months. How I would pray that he would break up with me, because I am too much of a nice person to actually hurt someone else’s feelings. How the sound of his name makes my hands inadvertently ball into fists, the same way how Pavlov’s dogs would salivate at the sounds of bells.

Then, the guilt trip comes along. I begin to feel guilty that I am dwelling on such a ridiculous thing, and I need to just be happy that I got what I prayed for, an end to a horrible situation. WHY am I spending so many neurons on him? Then, I begin to feel even more guilt on the fact that I’m STILL thinking on him, when I’ve made the promise that I will never think on him again.
The same thing goes along for the small amount of others that I’ve lost connections with
So, this morning, I figured that I would do something that would be beneficial to me. I deleted ALL of my old Facebook messages. I got rid of EVERY ONE OF THEM!! The good messages, the bad messages, the party invites, the group update messages; the message that I sent others, every single message was deleted.

As I deleted all of my messages, I began to grow envious of my inbox. There was no trash folder that the messages were sent to, that I could STILL have access to, and return them to my inbox folder. The moment I hit the button “delete,” the messages were no longer on my profile, my computer, or even remembered. I began to wish that one day; I could flush out all of the negative things that happened in my life, without the option of re-picking it up. I wish that one day, the monsters that I have named “Memories” could all just one day stay buried.

STAY ENCOURAGED AND HAVE A WONDERFUL WEEKEND!!

Friendly Intentions

2009-04-23T06:19:00.000-07:00

My Dear Bloggers,

When your family and your significant other is trying to impose their “good intentions” on you, where else do you go? What’s your last refuge? Friends, you go to your friends, those wonderful people who do not HAVE to be around you, but they choose to. They love you unconditionally and encourage you when you’re down. In times of inner suppression and open glee, these are the people who make the top ten on your speed dialer.

After coming home from college, I called an old high school friend who was still in town. College did not afford me the luxury to talk to my old high school friends on a regular basis, so I was looking forward to catching up with her.

In high school she was always extremely comforting and encouraging. No matter how I felt about myself, she always encouraged me and reinforced my self-worth, and I would do the same for her. There were never a moment of negative words between us, we always elevated each other.

Naturally, when I returned home from college, overweight from many failed attempts at bulimia (just because you find a way to purge does not mean you’ve found a successful way to make the scale’s numbers go down. I actually gained my weight when I STARTED binging and purging), I knew that my ol’ trusted friend would be my refuge. A person I could go out with without the fear of feeling embarrassed about myself.

She comes to my house to pick me up, and from the moment I opened the door, the only topic that she wanted to discuss was my weight. (“I mean… what happened? You used to be so pretty… just… you look a little disgusting…”)
I figured that maybe if I let my friend in on my secretive recent past, then maybe I could… shut her up. While looking at the menu of one of my favorite restaurants I slowly devolve the issue with my ex, the over working out, the binging, and then the purging. While talking, I aimlessly flipped pages of the menu, and without realizing it, found my way to the desert menu. I never had the intention of ordering desert, and was about to turn the page of the menu, but before I could, my “friend” grabs the menu out of my hand.
“Oh, Kendra, no! You have to look at yourself, you do NOT need desert. I’m sorry, but I can’t let you order desert. I’m sorry, but I have good intentions!!”

I smiled at her while in my head I’m thinking: “I just explained to you my fear of my body being compared to John Merrick’s face, and you STILL continue to berate me? Hmmm… okay, I now know what I have to do.”
I kept my smile on my face while she continuously made comments on my weight, from the time we were at the restaurant, to when we went shopping, to when we went to the movies.

My dear friend might have had good intentions. She might not have been used to seeing me at the weight that I was, because it was hard for me to accept it as well. But what I do know, is that if someone expresses that they feel uncomfortable having their weight being the fodder of conversation, that’s when you should relinquish your “good intentions” for common decency.
I walked into my house, locked the door, and while putting my keys in my purse, I simultaneously pulled my cell phone out. I promptly went to contacts and erased her number from my phone.
How’d you like them intentions?

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Intimate Intentions

2009-04-22T06:59:00.000-07:00

Hello Bloggers,

About a month ago I checked my Facebook account and saw a message from one of my exes. My mouth dropped open because I was not expecting to hear from him. Circa seven months ago we started talking on the phone again. He tried to initiate contact a few years ago and I told him that I believed that we needed to cut all ties of communication. He seemed confused, so seven months ago we get on the phone, and I let out a laundry list of information about why I never wanted to talk to him again a few years ago. I could picture him listening, his mouth wide open and his brow furrowed. The things I was saying took him by complete surprise, the entire time in the relationship HE HAD GOOD INTENTENTIONS!!

Let me catch you up. I was one of the lucky freshman at the University of Illinois to gain the freshman 30 (I was always an over achiever!!). In high school I wasn’t too active, because I didn’t need to be. I liked my body the way it was, slim. But, being in college, my body was no longer the size it was, and I struggled with losing weight and keeping it off.

One year, a guy who I was friends with for years became my boyfriend, and from knowing me for a few years knew that I wanted to get back to my slim size. He decided to coach me in my weight loss. However, he began to become OBSESSED with my weight. That summer, he was back home, and I was reporting to him every day about my workout stats, and what I ate. He slowly began to increase my workout time, and decrease what I ate. By the end of the summer, I was working out in the morning, going running at night, and eating 80 calories a day. I was extremely tired, but I lost 44 lbs in two months, so maybe he knew what he was talking about.

I was smaller than what I was my senior year of high school (which was my prime foxy year), so I figured that I could finally start eating full meals, as long as I kept up with my workout regimen. Oh no, not for my boyfriend. Since I was little, that meant that I had to work out MORE. Soon, I was working out three times a day (going to the gym twice and doing a special workout in my room) and running a total of 18.5 miles a week. Anytime I tried to SNEAK real food, he would put me under a condemnation (“How could you put mayo on your half turkey sandwich? I don’t know if I can trust you.”) He never saw my fatigue as a problem, or the fact that whenever I walked past reflective glass and started having panic attacks a problem. He didn’t see an issue with having me strip down EVERY Tuesday so he could silently critique my body, and figure out what part of my body I needed to focus on that week. He also didn’t see an issue when I started a liquid diet, by drinking HALF a bottle of V8 Splash for breakfast, the second half for lunch, and drinking hot water with bullion powder for dinner.

While refreshing his memory about the extreme stress he put me under due to my weight, and the resulting bulimia that came afterwards, I could hear him muttering (“Oh my goodness…. I didn’t know…”) I finished telling him everything, and the silence was palpable over the phone.
“Hello?” I had to make sure he was still on the phone.
“Kendra, I just have to let you know, I am EXTREMELY sorry!! I had no idea, I promise you, I had GOOD INTENTIONS!!”

Do I believe him? I do. But the truth of the matter is the moment I realized there was a problem, I should have ended the relationship. The moment I felt guilty about putting regular Ranch on my salad, after only eating 40 calories that day, that’s when it should have rang in my head: “Kendra, this is a problem!!” The moral of the story, boys and girls: Have your OWN good intentions for yourself!!

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Family Intentions

2009-04-21T08:30:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

I believe that the greatest test of one's character is if they have to move back home. Forget all the philosophies that dictate what reveals the true nature of people. Having your freedom for years, then having it rapidly removed from you is the best way to determine what type of person you are.

My father is originally from Mobile, Alabama, and I spent a substantial part of my childhood there. There's a type of southern mentality that dictates kindness to strangers, respect towards authority figures, and saying whatever you feel like to your family.

Things that would normally be okay to discuss on a one on one setting was now family fodder. Extended family members would see me, put their hands on my hips and spread their hands out as far as they possibly could, in front of an audience of other family members. There would be shouts of concurrence from the peanut gallery ("Yeah girl!! You got a cute shape now, but don't start gaining weight like ______!!" "She had a cute shape too, now she's over 300 lbs!!")

Growing up, you know how to deal with this mentality, because it's normal to you and it's your own. However, when you venture outside your own household, you get introduced to the sense of "common decency."

Oh yes, common decency, something I always heard about, but did not know it truly existed, like Big Foot or the Loch Ness Monster. I never experienced the phantom a great deal until I went off to college. There, I met people who were able to be truthful without causing me a migraine that felt like my head was going to explode.

But, coming back home, you're tossed back into a way of life that is completely separate from the world, and not only is it disjointing for you, but you begin to behave in the same way you resented family for!! I've caught myself saying things to my parents and aunts that I would have never imagined to come out of my mouth ("Are you serious?! There are TWO set of ss's in Mississippi!! ...Idiots..."). EVEN THOUGH, I might have been trying to keep my family aware from spelling mishaps, in case they ever came across a life-threatening spelling bee, that's no excuse. But hey, I had good intentions.

So, word to the wise, just because you have a familial connection with someone, it is NOT an excuse for whatever you think of the person to come spewing from your mouth like vomit. There's always a tasteful way to address your concerns for a family member, while still keeping your "good intentions" intact.

STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Best of the Worst Best Intentions - Day One

2009-04-20T07:23:00.000-07:00

Hey There, Bloggers,

This week we’re going to discuss the guise of the best intentions excuse. This weekend, I went to one of my favorite websites that have AMAZING blogs (glamour.com) and one of the bloggers was discussing the root where her weight baggage stemmed from. While being an overweight child, her grandmother gave her a scale. Even though her grandmother had her best intentions in mind, it still caused her to be resentful and aided in her struggle with her weight for years.

This story was something that was easy for me to empathize with. My parents, the AMAZING providers and authorial figures that they are, seems to have NO inner monologue. Anything that they thought about their children, things that they did not like, would come SHOOTING from their mouths. Then to combat our indignation, we would always hear about how they said what they said due to having best intentions.

EXAMPLE:

My beautiful sister Kelli decided to give herself a Halle Berry-esque hair cut during her sophomore year of high school. The hair cut came out amazing. One morning, Kelli came downstairs to eat breakfast, her hair looking gorgeous, sits down in her seat next to me. This was my father’s first time seeing Kelli with her new short coif. My father is staring intently at her head, as if trying to telepathically paste her hair back to her head, and when NO ONE was expecting it, he says: “WHERE IS YOUR HAIR? YOU LOOK LIKE A BOY!!”
Mouths were agape, and eyes looked like SAUCERS. Does he not know that you do not tell your daughter that she looks like a MALE?! What is wrong with you, man?!
So, when Kelli gets justifiably upset, he looks at US as if WE’RE crazy and says: “WHAT?! I CAN’T SAY ANYTHING TO MY DAUGHTER?! I GOT GOOD INTENTIONS!!”

Now to you, my dear readers, this week I’m going to discuss the consequences I’ve dealt with whenever someone (family, boyfriends, friends) uttered those words “good intentions” at me. These consequences range from self-consciousness to bulimia to self-redemption. But, trust me when I say that no matter how good someone’s intentions are, the only thing that matters is how you see yourself.
STAY ENCOURAGED!!

Why so Tense?

2009-04-17T11:20:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,

I find myself at a crossroads this morning, and this contributed to my tardiness in posting. I'm very sorry. Here's my current issue:

One of the things that I have been blessed and cursed with is a need to over plan. It has been a blessing to me, because I tend to have multiple contingency plans; therefore I'm rarely caught off guard. The moment I wake up, a list of tasks that I need to accomplish run through my head, I figure out the times that would help me finish these tasks at an appropriate rate, and then I mentally look at all the angles in my plans (what if this happen? Can I compensate by doing this? What will be the punishment if I cannot finish this task at the time I would like to?) then come up with multiple solutions to help me expedite everything in an efficient manner (that's why my suitcase was so heavy for the last post, I packed for every situation, including the Day of Reckoning... not really but I hope you all have caught on to my sense of humor).

The curse comes in for the fact that no matter how much I plan or give myself a certain margin of error, there will NEVER be an account for human error, or just life. When life finds a way to knock me off course (bus arriving 45 minutes late, going to pick up my cap and gown last year only to find out that I still had one more semester to account for, being asked to be the maid of honor at a friend's wedding, planning to use that money for wedding expenses only to realize that the money must go toward my last summer semester in college) I immediately become stuck in a sea of "tenses."

I begin to look at my past and try to see if there were any signs that showed that this might happen. I look at my present to figure out what's the most appropriate course of action I should take. My inner soothsayer looks at the future towards all the possible consequences. Within this sea of thought, I begin to feel as though I'm drowning. Unable to make a decision, for fear of making the wrong one. Want to push my life towards the goals I have desperately set aside for myself, only to be accosted by the unknown consequences that may lie ahead.

As of right now, this is my life. After finally graduating from college I was prepared to go through my life plan of doing a double Masters program (getting a MFA and my Masters in Publishing), then go on to work in a publishing company, and then soon begin to shape myself into the literary world I always known I was born to live in. However, this thing called life has shook me and pushed me back into my sea of tenses.

I see my reality, and can see my future so clearly, however, the steps to get there cause me to freeze. Each step is a good move to my future, but I find myself concerned about which step is the right one.

Now, for you, bloggers: I know that I must not be the only in these strenuous times that is paralyzed by fear of making a move, due to the fact that if you pick one job, or internship, it might go under due to the economy and then you're back home... like I am now. But, what I would like to encourage you all (while I encouraging myself) is that the only bad move to make, is no move.

Stay encouraged, and I will blog with you all on Monday. Have a great weekend!

Chivalry: What's With all the Baggage?

2009-04-16T08:45:00.000-07:00

Hi Bloggers,

Today's topic is on the notion of the loss of chivalry, and my bruised back. Let me explain:

While in college I met this girl who became one of my best friends through a Bible study. During our last year of college, she decided to go on staff with the organization that ran that Bible study, and today she's leaving to do missionary work in Africa for two years.
Well, for the past two weekends, I have been traveling to Chicago to see her (say goodbye, go to her going away parties and what-not).
Well, last weekend I go to catch the bus that I normally do that takes me to Chicago. This bus system is EXTREMELY cheap, due to the fact that sometimes you have to load your own stuff on the bus. I was going to be in Chicago for three days, so NATURALLY I had to have the LARGEST suitcase my family had to hold my three outfits, three sets of pajamas, and so on. While lifting my extremely heavy suitcase (and secretly cursing myself for not being a more efficient packer) I felt this hard blow to the right side of my lower back. I yelled, and dropped my suitcase. I looked to see what hit me, and it was a man (who just apparently got off of work at a hotel, because he was still wearing his uniform). He looked at me, threw his suitcase on the bus, looked at me again, did not once apologize for hitting me, or offered to help put my suitcase back on the bus, and he just jumped on the bus.
Just the lack of disrespect stunned me. Not only did this guy injury me, but he couldn't even help me afterwards? At least offer a mea culpa... anything?! No, he just bounced (literally bounced, as if he was happy to be one of the first people on the bus) and got his seat.
The pain subdued, until I went to bed at my friend's house that night. While I slept sharp pains came shooting in my back anytime I moved, and it was (literally) painful realization that chivalry might ACTUALLY be dead.

But I cannot put all the blame on men, because when I caught the bus to travel back home, I was not better than he was. My bus was 45 minutes late, and I was waiting in the rain for it to come. The bus comes, and with the constant throbbing pain of my back, I began to feel jaded. The bus comes and I immediately get overcame with a feeling of Social Darwinism and "every person for themselves." My suitcase is one of the first ones on the bus, and I stand in line to get my seat. I look back triumphantly at the people I jumped in front of, and saw a group of three elderly women looking BEWILDERED at how animalistic everyone was acting. No one offered to help them, no one said: "Hey, let's let these three women get their suitcases on the bus first and get their seats first."
I began to feel truly bad at my behavior, but obviously not bad enough to relinquish my spot in line to get on the bus and help the women.

Now, my questions to all of you (and feel free to comment with your own stories or thoughts on my horrible behavior) is: "Has our society really come to this? Has our drive to "one-up" the person next to us caused us to forget our own common decency?"

Welcome to "My Looking Glass Self"

2009-04-15T16:22:00.000-07:00

Dear Bloggers,
My name is Kendra and my blog will be written with the purpose of having open dialogues by being completely transparent with you. My blog (and its title) is based off of W.E.B. Dubois’ theory of “The Looking Glass Self” which dictated that people tend to behave in the way that they believe others expect them to behave.
My blog will be based off my own personal experiences in society, with my family, friends and my own personal inner struggles with the hope of you sharing your own experiences. I know I sound very serious now, but I hope the blog will be just like me, very adorable and thought provoking (how do you like my tooting my own horn, huh?).
Well, to legitimize myself to you, I’m a recent college graduate with a BA in English, and a minor in Sociology. My goals in life are to (eventually move to New York) become published, go to grad school, work in a publishing company, get enough knowledge to own my own publishing companies.
Now that I’ve got that out of the way, here are 15 interesting things about me for you laugh about:
1. I started reading Shakespeare when I was in 3rd grade.
2. When my sisters and I were younger, me and my sister Kelli used to do these skits that were performed ENTIRELY IN SLOW MOTION!!! We had maybe 3 different ones, but the main one I remember was “The Dinner Date.” ;-)
3. I refuse to write “LOL.” I ALWAYS write “HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!” I refuse to conform. :-D
4. My most cherished possession is this BEAUTIFUL jewelry box my buddy Tyler got me from South Korea in high school.
5. I have over 200 books, and over 100 DVDs I LOVE reading and watching movies!!
6. One of my new ring tones is that new SNL song “J--- In my Pants.” I KNOW it’s not appropriate, but that song is HILLARIOUS!!
7. I used to have a stuttering problem growing up, and I used to have to go to a speech specialist. As a matter of fact, you can still hear me stutter if I get very flustered. I think it’s charming!!
8. My all-time favorite food is hotdogs!!
9. I hate when girls talk down to each other, and think that EVERY girl is conniving, and catty. My girl friends are NOT like that, so PLEASE stop assuming that we are. Oh, and girls who ARE like that, STOP IT, YOU’RE JUST MAINTAINING THE STEREOTYPE!! EVOLVE, FOOLS!!!
10. I LOVE VH1’s “I Love Money,” that show is GREAT!!
11. I was a nanny for six weeks in North Carolina and one night I woke up in a panic in the middle of the night, didn’t recognize where I was and tried to escape through the window. I realized once I had the window open, and was about to burst through the screen… yeah….
12. To go FULLY natural, I cut off a total of 16 inches off of my hair.
13. I thank God EVERY morning that NO ONE can hear my thoughts. It’s just that… sometimes when people say or do stupid things… Lord help me, my thoughts are not the most Christian ones…
14. I’m TERRIFIED of drowning, and almost drowned FIVE times!! I refuse to get in water that’s over 5 ft, because I’m 5’3, and I don’t like being in water that’s taller than me. It FREAKS me out!!
15. One of my first friends was this little boy named Austin. We had the same speech specialist, and he had a prosthetic arm. He used to take it off and let me play with it. I got in trouble once because I was swinging it and knocked EVERYTHING off of our speech specialist’s desk!! She was SOO mad!! I still feel bad about it to this day.