Good People, it has been quite awhile. I've slacked on my pimpin' when it comes to this blog. I have a ton of excuses, none of which seem sufficient, since I find time for everything else.
Maybe the next blog that I create will consist of something a bit more interesting, upbeat and a little less self absorbed...well, not really, because it will likely reflect who I am. I struggle with this blog because sometimes I am afraid of truly divulging my identity. I used to blog because it was therapeutic and honest, and I believed that some lost soul would stumble upon it and thank me for my honesty. I've done it to others. It's happened once to me. That was really cool.
Anyway, I would like to say that Philadelphia has been interesting these last few months. I wouldn't say that I bit off more than I can chew. I will admit that at times I questioned the true purpose of my return, what I expected to get out of it, and where I would go if it didn't work out. I've considered Washington, D.C. my home and wouldn't hesitate to go back, now that I have exhausted my stay here in Philadelphia.
What do I mean by this? I mean that in the 8 months that I've been home, I realized that I was supposed to come back to make closure. I had to make closure with my past and give myself a chance to start anew, release whatever it was that I harbored for so long. I clung to things that were in fact unfounded in reality, and I had to be free of those "things" or notions in my mind. I am happy for it, and in the process, I actually found me again. It's a good feeling.
My boot camp date was bumped up to September 7th, so the next time that I return to this blog will be around Christmas time. I look forward to that, returning with a new perspective, understanding myself as a Marine, given another chance at a new life.
I think that is what is the most exciting about this turn that I am making. It is a little sad sometimes to leave the familiar behind, but when you think about all of the benefits that one gains in taking a leap, it becomes addictive. Stagnant is not something that I do. Ask anyone. It doesn't mean that I lack commitment. It just means that I believe in doing what you want to do, while hindering yourself only when you're able to sufficiently answer the question, "Why not?" I am so blessed to have another chance at truly finding myself and taking what I have learned to become an even stronger, better, smarter, faster, sweeter and cooler person than I ever was before. I hope you'll stay tuned. I promise I will not disappoint!
To Parris Island I go!
Monday, August 30, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
It's Ok to Grow Up
I'm acutely aware of the rumor that the reason that I returned home was predicated on a relationship with my former beau. Given how long we've been seeing each other, I wouldn't think it were a bad idea, and to deny that he had anything to do with it would be unrealistic. To that end, I admit that he played a substantial role in my final decision to come home, however my intention was never to remain in Washington, D.C. We got back together just as I moved there, and the plan was always for me to return home, as I had more flexibility in the relationship than he did; he has a daughter and thus, limitations. I am unapologetic about that; it is what people agree to do when they are serious about each other. Things didn't work out between us, but it didn't work out because ultimately, as we both understand, it's not supposed to work. I cannot speak for anyone else, but most important, is for me to understand that and to move forward.
Alas, how can I have a relationship of that kind of magnitude without understanding exactly who I am, or at least have a more than relative idea? That's where I've been, since my return. I chose to work in politics, as it is super sexy (in a professional way) and requires me to work harder than perhaps I've ever worked in my life. I loved it, but I am still lost here in Philadelphia. It is a true challenge to do what I love, while staying afloat financially, or to even feel refreshed, unattached to residual heartache, headache, insecurities, etc.
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"This quarter-life crisis doesn't have to be terrible..." |
That's the hardest part. Moving on. I will miss my friends and my gosh, I am so inspired by all of the wonderful things that my friends from Villanova have set out to do. Many are married, some have children, some have amazing jobs, have gone overseas and some are still trying to figure it out. This quarter-life crisis doesn't have to be terrible. Perhaps this is the time to really LIVE and experience the world and allow it to mold us into the people that we are bound to become. We are armed with an education from one of the best schools in the country, a school that intellectually and spiritually fed us for the last few years of our lives. It has set us up to explore and discover. I think what I dread the most is settling before I ever set sail.
Growing up means moving on, and having the courage to do so. Accepting change, or even welcoming it. It means being in the driver seat instead of taking a backseat to your life and letting things happen. Taking charge with a good spirit and a functioning brain. It means saying goodbye even when it's difficult, but knowing that it is for the best. It means having faith in yourself. It's a liberating epiphany and now I am anxiously waiting for October, the chance for my life to truly begin. Next stop: boot camp!
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Words of a Wrestling Conscience
I am listening, yet I am without sound sense, an apparition
of who I once was, a little less keen, a little too courageous.
I am listening, yet I am without clarity, I seek to provide
but fall short to understand, indignant and confused, but willing.
I am listening, yet I am without sound advice, what one
decides is of his own convoluted mind, this is individual-
This is different.
I am listening, self aware of tragic flaws and addictions;
the threat of consequences looms in my personal space, I ignore it.
I am listening, but the language is foreign, I strain and put
my ears close to the thin line that is the wall, I knock on the glass ceiling.
I am listening, but I have every excuse in the world, I struggle to take heed;
I want to be better, but I am too fallen.
I am listening because I want to be needed and cherished
though it comes at a price, costing my solid ground; I call it compromise.
I am listening because I want to offer myself to love you better
yet being love's sacrificial lamb is inglorious and thankless.
I am listening, because I desperately need fresh air and cleanliness
but I live for this suffocating moment - it hurts so good.
I am listening, but the truth is I am not responsive.
I am unresponsive because I cannot see.
I cannot see what I so badly desire to feel.
And I cannot feel because
I am without sound sense-
an apparition of who I once was
a little less keen,
a little too courageous.
of who I once was, a little less keen, a little too courageous.
I am listening, yet I am without clarity, I seek to provide
but fall short to understand, indignant and confused, but willing.
I am listening, yet I am without sound advice, what one
decides is of his own convoluted mind, this is individual-
This is different.
I am listening, self aware of tragic flaws and addictions;
the threat of consequences looms in my personal space, I ignore it.
I am listening, but the language is foreign, I strain and put
my ears close to the thin line that is the wall, I knock on the glass ceiling.
I am listening, but I have every excuse in the world, I struggle to take heed;
I want to be better, but I am too fallen.
I am listening because I want to be needed and cherished
though it comes at a price, costing my solid ground; I call it compromise.
I am listening because I want to offer myself to love you better
yet being love's sacrificial lamb is inglorious and thankless.
I am listening, because I desperately need fresh air and cleanliness
but I live for this suffocating moment - it hurts so good.
I am listening, but the truth is I am not responsive.
I am unresponsive because I cannot see.
I cannot see what I so badly desire to feel.
And I cannot feel because
I am without sound sense-
an apparition of who I once was
a little less keen,
a little too courageous.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
A Word About Fathers
When I woke up this morning, my co-dependency on Facebook led me to my homepage, where I saw an extensive list of well wishers to fathers. The posts ranged from first time mothers, who were speaking of their first-time fathers as counterparts, to people who were acknowledging the death of their father, but appreciating what sacrifices he made when he was alive. And some of them truly gave me pause, like the one about the moms who double as the father, and the fathers who are simply sperm donors, or, as one person so eloquently put it, "mother f*ckers".
It could be argued that Father's Day is one of the most important and personal holidays that occur in a calendar year. The reason is because it is touchy for mothers who are separated from their spouse, divorced or broken up from a boyfriend, and to some people who have lost their fathers to jail, war, or death. Some people will never know who their fathers really are, and it is to no fault of their own.
I admit that as a woman, it is very difficult to avoid seeking the same qualities that my father has in the men that I date. I was one of the lucky ones, after all. It was at three years old that I was able to cognitively put together that this man who came into my life on a regular basis was indeed my father, that I had one, like my brother, Darren. I didn't really like his dad so much, but I would take him as a dad if it meant having one. I do not remember much before three, but I remember my mother and father sitting me down one day and telling me that this man that it feels that I had just met was my father. Now, that is not to say that he wasn't in my life before I was three years old. I just remember that for a very short period of time in my young life, I wanted a daddy, too. Not only did I get my own, he never left. :-)
I was a daddy's girl through my teenage years, and the first few years that I had the freedoms of other older adults, I avoided my parents as much as possible. I didn't think that we really spoke the same language, which was a bit unfair, and I hadn't realized how much they loved me or how much I was hurting them. Of course, the best view is through the rear view, and my vision is clear. I do appreciate both of my parents, and I love my father for being the man that he is. The trouble is, I wonder if I will ever find a guy that will measure up to be the kind of man that my father was for my family and for my mother.
Looking at those facebook posts, I saw a lot of shout-outs to fathers who were simply part-time dads. These were the ones that felt pained or aggravated by the mother, the ones who are unmotivated to really be in their child's life as much as possible. Is there anything terribly wrong with being a part-time dad? There was a time when I would say not necessarily, everyone's situations are different. However, when I think about what it would have been like to have a part time dad in my life, I change my tune. Young women need their fathers. They need a strong, exemplary man that will teach them how to expect to be treated by men, what not to tolerate, how to project herself in a way that she wishes to be perceived, and how to work and excel in a (questionably) man's world.
I was thinking a few weeks back about my previous boyfriend, who is a father. I wondered what his daughter would think of him when she gets older; will she have the same kind of bond that I had with my dad? Will his opinions and feelings about the decisions she makes as an adult carry considerable weight? What will she expect in a man? And I wonder if men ever really think about the things that their children sees, I wonder if they realize that their little girls will become women some day, and like sponges, they're absorbing what the leading man in their life does on a regular basis. I also thought that the kind of man that I ultimately choose will be a reflection of how my parents raised me, and what I see in a potential father, a man who will honor his family with a good head on his shoulders. I think we would do well to understand that as women, and the men in our lives would do well to step up if they haven't already. I already have so many great examples of what a real man does, beginning with my daddy, and shouldn't expect any less.
It could be argued that Father's Day is one of the most important and personal holidays that occur in a calendar year. The reason is because it is touchy for mothers who are separated from their spouse, divorced or broken up from a boyfriend, and to some people who have lost their fathers to jail, war, or death. Some people will never know who their fathers really are, and it is to no fault of their own.
I admit that as a woman, it is very difficult to avoid seeking the same qualities that my father has in the men that I date. I was one of the lucky ones, after all. It was at three years old that I was able to cognitively put together that this man who came into my life on a regular basis was indeed my father, that I had one, like my brother, Darren. I didn't really like his dad so much, but I would take him as a dad if it meant having one. I do not remember much before three, but I remember my mother and father sitting me down one day and telling me that this man that it feels that I had just met was my father. Now, that is not to say that he wasn't in my life before I was three years old. I just remember that for a very short period of time in my young life, I wanted a daddy, too. Not only did I get my own, he never left. :-)
I was a daddy's girl through my teenage years, and the first few years that I had the freedoms of other older adults, I avoided my parents as much as possible. I didn't think that we really spoke the same language, which was a bit unfair, and I hadn't realized how much they loved me or how much I was hurting them. Of course, the best view is through the rear view, and my vision is clear. I do appreciate both of my parents, and I love my father for being the man that he is. The trouble is, I wonder if I will ever find a guy that will measure up to be the kind of man that my father was for my family and for my mother.
Looking at those facebook posts, I saw a lot of shout-outs to fathers who were simply part-time dads. These were the ones that felt pained or aggravated by the mother, the ones who are unmotivated to really be in their child's life as much as possible. Is there anything terribly wrong with being a part-time dad? There was a time when I would say not necessarily, everyone's situations are different. However, when I think about what it would have been like to have a part time dad in my life, I change my tune. Young women need their fathers. They need a strong, exemplary man that will teach them how to expect to be treated by men, what not to tolerate, how to project herself in a way that she wishes to be perceived, and how to work and excel in a (questionably) man's world.
I was thinking a few weeks back about my previous boyfriend, who is a father. I wondered what his daughter would think of him when she gets older; will she have the same kind of bond that I had with my dad? Will his opinions and feelings about the decisions she makes as an adult carry considerable weight? What will she expect in a man? And I wonder if men ever really think about the things that their children sees, I wonder if they realize that their little girls will become women some day, and like sponges, they're absorbing what the leading man in their life does on a regular basis. I also thought that the kind of man that I ultimately choose will be a reflection of how my parents raised me, and what I see in a potential father, a man who will honor his family with a good head on his shoulders. I think we would do well to understand that as women, and the men in our lives would do well to step up if they haven't already. I already have so many great examples of what a real man does, beginning with my daddy, and shouldn't expect any less.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Colin Reid
When I woke up this morning, I thought about the many mundane tasks that I would need to complete before the day is over. I also thought about this transition that I am making in my life - a climb out of the abyss of the dreaded quarter-life crisis. It will eat you alive if you let it. Thankfully, I am finding my way. In coming to grips with some new realities, I thought repeatedly about a lesson that I've learned since my return to Philadelphia. The lesson is this: Before you get all disappointed about something or someone, you have to know what you're working with.
Once you begin to understand the capacity at which a person can understand you, or a situation for that matter, you can assess the kind or amount of expectations you should place on them, and with that, you should also be willing to assess how much you can understand them. The difference is that since you are well aware of your own limitations, the idea is to try to supersede those limitations as best as you can, so as to earn the benefit of the doubt from the person that you are trying to oblige or understand.
It sounds simple enough, but it is so simple, that it is perhaps forgettable. I often keep myself in check with this of late, out of fear that I am being unreasonable or self-absorbed. I also consider my sources. You should REALLY consider the source, whenever someone's talking to you.
OH and always, ALWAYS have someone put a promise in a documented form after verbalized. It's necessary for accountability. Be ready and willing to do the same for any promises that you make as well.
Perhaps I learned more than I thought.
Anyway, today I am dedicating this blog to Colin James Alexander Reid. By the grace of God, he's perfectly fine and healthy. He hasn't returned to war at all, either. With that said, this seems to be a bit random. But when I think about transitioning from one phase of my life to another, I think about friendship. There are times like these when you leave some people behind, and there are some people that will ride with you for the next journey. I am very fond of our friendship, because as we both continue to grow, we've been so supportive of each other. A lot has happened in the five years that we've known each other. We've lost loved ones, we've fallen in love several times (with each other and other people), we've become our own sort of weird family, we've disagreed over very little, but what little we have, we've overlooked to be there for each other. When I think of loyalty and friendship, I think of Colin, because even though we rarely get to see each other, we are there for each other for the monumental things in our lives. If something happens in our family, we call. When Colin went to Afghanistan, I made the time to write, and he made the time to call. When I had questions about what to do going forward, he listened. He may not know it, but I go on walks with him sometimes. I walk alone so that I can have a moment to collect my thoughts, or be alone in them for a little while. During those times, I may not want to talk to anyone but Colin, and I have walked some extraordinary distances while talking with him. When I told him about boot camp, he was already talking about coming to my graduation. Man, I'm so lucky to have a friend like that!
You don't always get to have people like that in your life. Sometimes, it may take awhile to realize how much a person truly loves you, and know that that person will always be there. That person for me is Colin. I would openly go to bat for him for just about anything (as long as it's legal), because he truly deserves my loyalty in return. I am grateful for the wisdom to know that I should provide that.
I do genuinely love all of my friends. Some of them, I care about in different capacities, because, well, you have to know what you're working with. And they have to know what they're working with, when they are dealing with you. Neither one is a bad thing. All of the people who are in my life, both those that I will leave behind, and those that I will ask to hop in and ride with me, are my teachers and have provided me with a valuable lesson in my life. Sometimes those lessons reveal something about them, people, me, or simply, life. Sometimes the lessons aren't so great, and some exceed our expectations. Regardless, the lessons and each teacher are important.
Love the people in your life. Especially the special ones. You know, the kind that love you so much that it takes nothing to say 'I love you, man' or 'I appreciate you' or even 'I'm sorry'. And remember to do the same in return. The reward is a lifetime of friendship.
Once you begin to understand the capacity at which a person can understand you, or a situation for that matter, you can assess the kind or amount of expectations you should place on them, and with that, you should also be willing to assess how much you can understand them. The difference is that since you are well aware of your own limitations, the idea is to try to supersede those limitations as best as you can, so as to earn the benefit of the doubt from the person that you are trying to oblige or understand.
It sounds simple enough, but it is so simple, that it is perhaps forgettable. I often keep myself in check with this of late, out of fear that I am being unreasonable or self-absorbed. I also consider my sources. You should REALLY consider the source, whenever someone's talking to you.
OH and always, ALWAYS have someone put a promise in a documented form after verbalized. It's necessary for accountability. Be ready and willing to do the same for any promises that you make as well.
Perhaps I learned more than I thought.
Anyway, today I am dedicating this blog to Colin James Alexander Reid. By the grace of God, he's perfectly fine and healthy. He hasn't returned to war at all, either. With that said, this seems to be a bit random. But when I think about transitioning from one phase of my life to another, I think about friendship. There are times like these when you leave some people behind, and there are some people that will ride with you for the next journey. I am very fond of our friendship, because as we both continue to grow, we've been so supportive of each other. A lot has happened in the five years that we've known each other. We've lost loved ones, we've fallen in love several times (with each other and other people), we've become our own sort of weird family, we've disagreed over very little, but what little we have, we've overlooked to be there for each other. When I think of loyalty and friendship, I think of Colin, because even though we rarely get to see each other, we are there for each other for the monumental things in our lives. If something happens in our family, we call. When Colin went to Afghanistan, I made the time to write, and he made the time to call. When I had questions about what to do going forward, he listened. He may not know it, but I go on walks with him sometimes. I walk alone so that I can have a moment to collect my thoughts, or be alone in them for a little while. During those times, I may not want to talk to anyone but Colin, and I have walked some extraordinary distances while talking with him. When I told him about boot camp, he was already talking about coming to my graduation. Man, I'm so lucky to have a friend like that!
You don't always get to have people like that in your life. Sometimes, it may take awhile to realize how much a person truly loves you, and know that that person will always be there. That person for me is Colin. I would openly go to bat for him for just about anything (as long as it's legal), because he truly deserves my loyalty in return. I am grateful for the wisdom to know that I should provide that.
I do genuinely love all of my friends. Some of them, I care about in different capacities, because, well, you have to know what you're working with. And they have to know what they're working with, when they are dealing with you. Neither one is a bad thing. All of the people who are in my life, both those that I will leave behind, and those that I will ask to hop in and ride with me, are my teachers and have provided me with a valuable lesson in my life. Sometimes those lessons reveal something about them, people, me, or simply, life. Sometimes the lessons aren't so great, and some exceed our expectations. Regardless, the lessons and each teacher are important.
Love the people in your life. Especially the special ones. You know, the kind that love you so much that it takes nothing to say 'I love you, man' or 'I appreciate you' or even 'I'm sorry'. And remember to do the same in return. The reward is a lifetime of friendship.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
A Week(ness) for the Okie Doke
I am not a quitter. In fact, I think that to an extent it has been my greatest downfall in certain areas of my life. I like to be right. Sometimes, I really hope that I am wrong, and it frustrates me to no possible end to not feel comfortable or certain about an outcome.
Welcome to the life of a 25 year old in the blue collar city of Philadelphia.
It's difficult to say it like that without implying that there is some external excuse for my inability to find a job in a matter of two weeks, as one would if they were in Washington, D.C. This campaign was really helpful, because it put me in touch with some very knowledgeable people, and my ability to focus helped me to capitalize on the opportunity to learn from them. But, now that the election is over, I need a job, Philadelphia. What I would really like is a job that allows me to help people. Some sort of community outreach job has my name written all over it. I love to work with people and for people. It makes me feel purposeful, as egotistical as that sounds. I thought about lobbying, advocacy, some sort of urban policy program, etc. But all of these sorts of jobs require that I am qualified (but not over-qualified) to implement these initiatives. They also require that I have some sort of master's degree or law degree.
I understand it, I respect it, however, it clearly is to my detriment and for many people like me, people who need jobs to go back to school, this continues to be a losing battle. We find ourselves being patronized by working at wages that don't allow us to be self sufficient, living with each other or our parents, five years away from thirty. It's depressing as hell. I don't even understand how people are getting married. It costs too much to live. Can I live?!
I want to help others, but it's occurred to me that I am the one who needs help. I can't afford to go back to school. I can't afford to miss any bills, but I can't afford to pay them either. Disillusionment about college is beginning to settle with a sense of permanence, but I have to try, because if I don't at least try, I will not survive. It's time that we all begin to get paid what we're worth. This recession business is a terrible shield that protects companies, a convenient excuse for everything. It makes me really angry.
It also reminds me of our civic duty. We need to vote. We need to have an opinion about every damn piece of legislature that is passed about budgets, consumer laws, credit reports, etc., jobs, economic development, transportation hikes... Raise hell if you have to. Shut down the banks and move your money if you have to. What little some of us have, that is. It's time to hold our legislators accountable, with a tremendous sense of urgency. The young professionals are being lost in the shuffle without much support and it's unfair.
Because, really, this recession business is bullsh*t. I have bills to pay and I am not protected. It's making life really hard for all of us who've worked hard. If I start a movement, I wonder who will be with me?
Welcome to the life of a 25 year old in the blue collar city of Philadelphia.
It's difficult to say it like that without implying that there is some external excuse for my inability to find a job in a matter of two weeks, as one would if they were in Washington, D.C. This campaign was really helpful, because it put me in touch with some very knowledgeable people, and my ability to focus helped me to capitalize on the opportunity to learn from them. But, now that the election is over, I need a job, Philadelphia. What I would really like is a job that allows me to help people. Some sort of community outreach job has my name written all over it. I love to work with people and for people. It makes me feel purposeful, as egotistical as that sounds. I thought about lobbying, advocacy, some sort of urban policy program, etc. But all of these sorts of jobs require that I am qualified (but not over-qualified) to implement these initiatives. They also require that I have some sort of master's degree or law degree.
I understand it, I respect it, however, it clearly is to my detriment and for many people like me, people who need jobs to go back to school, this continues to be a losing battle. We find ourselves being patronized by working at wages that don't allow us to be self sufficient, living with each other or our parents, five years away from thirty. It's depressing as hell. I don't even understand how people are getting married. It costs too much to live. Can I live?!
I want to help others, but it's occurred to me that I am the one who needs help. I can't afford to go back to school. I can't afford to miss any bills, but I can't afford to pay them either. Disillusionment about college is beginning to settle with a sense of permanence, but I have to try, because if I don't at least try, I will not survive. It's time that we all begin to get paid what we're worth. This recession business is a terrible shield that protects companies, a convenient excuse for everything. It makes me really angry.
It also reminds me of our civic duty. We need to vote. We need to have an opinion about every damn piece of legislature that is passed about budgets, consumer laws, credit reports, etc., jobs, economic development, transportation hikes... Raise hell if you have to. Shut down the banks and move your money if you have to. What little some of us have, that is. It's time to hold our legislators accountable, with a tremendous sense of urgency. The young professionals are being lost in the shuffle without much support and it's unfair.
Because, really, this recession business is bullsh*t. I have bills to pay and I am not protected. It's making life really hard for all of us who've worked hard. If I start a movement, I wonder who will be with me?
Thursday, May 20, 2010
May 18, 2010
May 18, 2010.
Do you see a period after the date? That is because that date stands alone. Why? Because it was the last day of my very first campaign, and we won the primary, by 522 votes.
You can imagine the kind of day I had.
We fired someone first thing in the morning, we dealt with people who wanted to get paid, we were putting out fires all day and re-applying war paint on our faces, we were fighting the good fight against cheaters and bullies. We even had some of our "allies" turn against us - and when I say they turned against us, I mean, they REALLY turned against us. By the grace of God, I was not able to vote that morning. If I had, I would've voted for the wrong people. I knew all along to go with my gut as an individual, but after conferring with some trustworthy individuals, I was willing to swing my vote to the other team only hours before the big day.
I would like to go on record and say that Sharif Street was an interesting opponent, and a worthy one, because we had to work really hard to kick his ass. In the end, our hard work got Vanessa Lowery Brown back into office, and she did it by ousting two HUGE political families in Philadelphia: The Blackwells and The Streets.
So, congratulations to the only true choice all along, State Representative Vanessa Lowery Brown. Please, take a look at what she's managed to accomplish in Harrisburg in her freshman year as a state rep: www.pahouse.net/brown.
I am being vague about this experience on purpose. If you would really like to know, please email me or let me know. Or, since I am now part of the rest of civilization, we could get together and talk about it. It was exciting, scary, stressful at points, but I will tell you, that I would do it all again. It was hard work, and probably will not be the hardest I've ever worked in my life, but that's good, because that means that at some point, I will be unstoppable.
I am grateful to the mentorship that I received throughout the process on both sides of the political spectrum. I enjoyed the friendships that I made on the legislative side, and I've met some extraordinary people on the campaign side. I loved the campaign side of things, because I am competitive, I love to win, I love being able to outsmart the bad guy. And I am eager to learn from the godfathers of the profession.
I know that this blog was a bit boring because I left out all of the juicy details, like the fake injunction, the people wearing the exact same shirts as us but were for the other team, confusing the hell out of everyone, and the politicians that turned on us and even set us up, stole our items, the fact that the opponents resorted to acting like park apes/bullies to our supporters, and the Benedict Arnolds, whose integrity could be bought.
What's the use? The people who turned on us lost, every single one. And in Philadelphia, people don't forget.
In the meantime, I'm not sure what to do with myself. I'm still on a high, but I'm a little out of sorts without a campaign.
So, what's next?!
I'm going to get some sleep! And perhaps catch up with some of you! Thank you to all of you who were so supportive. I received so many well wishes and so many people were rooting for us to win. Thank you for the words of wisdom, the emails, the phone calls, the visits, the hugs (seriously, the hugs were great) and for teaching me. I especially thank my mother and father for encouraging me throughout this journey. This was an experience of a lifetime and I will never forget it.
Peace and Love,
A.M.W.
Do you see a period after the date? That is because that date stands alone. Why? Because it was the last day of my very first campaign, and we won the primary, by 522 votes.
You can imagine the kind of day I had.
We fired someone first thing in the morning, we dealt with people who wanted to get paid, we were putting out fires all day and re-applying war paint on our faces, we were fighting the good fight against cheaters and bullies. We even had some of our "allies" turn against us - and when I say they turned against us, I mean, they REALLY turned against us. By the grace of God, I was not able to vote that morning. If I had, I would've voted for the wrong people. I knew all along to go with my gut as an individual, but after conferring with some trustworthy individuals, I was willing to swing my vote to the other team only hours before the big day.
I would like to go on record and say that Sharif Street was an interesting opponent, and a worthy one, because we had to work really hard to kick his ass. In the end, our hard work got Vanessa Lowery Brown back into office, and she did it by ousting two HUGE political families in Philadelphia: The Blackwells and The Streets.
So, congratulations to the only true choice all along, State Representative Vanessa Lowery Brown. Please, take a look at what she's managed to accomplish in Harrisburg in her freshman year as a state rep: www.pahouse.net/brown.
I am being vague about this experience on purpose. If you would really like to know, please email me or let me know. Or, since I am now part of the rest of civilization, we could get together and talk about it. It was exciting, scary, stressful at points, but I will tell you, that I would do it all again. It was hard work, and probably will not be the hardest I've ever worked in my life, but that's good, because that means that at some point, I will be unstoppable.
I am grateful to the mentorship that I received throughout the process on both sides of the political spectrum. I enjoyed the friendships that I made on the legislative side, and I've met some extraordinary people on the campaign side. I loved the campaign side of things, because I am competitive, I love to win, I love being able to outsmart the bad guy. And I am eager to learn from the godfathers of the profession.
I know that this blog was a bit boring because I left out all of the juicy details, like the fake injunction, the people wearing the exact same shirts as us but were for the other team, confusing the hell out of everyone, and the politicians that turned on us and even set us up, stole our items, the fact that the opponents resorted to acting like park apes/bullies to our supporters, and the Benedict Arnolds, whose integrity could be bought.
What's the use? The people who turned on us lost, every single one. And in Philadelphia, people don't forget.
In the meantime, I'm not sure what to do with myself. I'm still on a high, but I'm a little out of sorts without a campaign.
So, what's next?!
I'm going to get some sleep! And perhaps catch up with some of you! Thank you to all of you who were so supportive. I received so many well wishes and so many people were rooting for us to win. Thank you for the words of wisdom, the emails, the phone calls, the visits, the hugs (seriously, the hugs were great) and for teaching me. I especially thank my mother and father for encouraging me throughout this journey. This was an experience of a lifetime and I will never forget it.
Peace and Love,
A.M.W.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Got Love?
Friends,
It's spring time, and spring time means romance. I feel like I've been living under a rock. Oh wait, ok, time out.
This is not going to be another blog about pursuing my goals and consistent ruminations about taking over the world and filling it with hugs and ice cream.
One of my friends called me out recently, because she noticed that I've gone completely balls-to-the-walls with work. I justify my actions by saying that we're approaching a very important primary, and we seek to kick some dust under a few household names and shake things up in Harrisburg. This election is a big deal for me. It's my first campaign. All of this is very true, and I work every single day. I love what I do.
There are some things that have proved a bit challenging, though. When I think about my ex boyfriend, I work. When I think about the guy that I wish I were dating, and how he's great, but for someone else, I work. When I am approached by guys that I find repulsive, I work. When I like a guy and I think he may actually like me, I work.
I've used this whole working thing as a poor excuse for being anti-social and really dumping that whole notion of "falling in love" into the garbage disposal with the banana peels. The truth is I really don't think it's going to happen. Now, listen, this isn't a pity party by any means. MSNBC and CNN tell me at least once a month that since I am a black woman with a degree, I am less likely to find a man that will relate to me, and I will likely "date down" because the options are slim. Then there are the guys that I should like, but the spark isn't there. Like the guys that are decades older than me, people with a bigillion children, people who've never left their street corner, or cannot text a complete sentence. Ugh. I would like to know what I did in my last life to deserve this.
I think it's also the fact that this is the first time that I have been single for well over a year since I was 18 years old. I'm not lonely, but I have to say that I don't appreciate the fact that everyone's settled with their honeys, the engagements, the babies, the promise of that happily ever after thing that I wanted for so long. I believe in it - for others.
That's probably because it isn't what God placed me here to do. So I work. And I don't talk about it. And I pretend to care when there's a new flavor of the month or week or for however long that I'm interested before I am completely repulsed and disappointed. Picky? I don't know. I would say that I give people a fair shake. And then there is a part of me that now knows when my spirit simply cannot take another person. And usually, I regret that initial gut feeling when I don't listen to myself.
Anyway, there's also that danger of dating someone at work. People in politics know things even when they don't say anything, people watch, even when they pretend that they're not. Even if you're convinced that they aren't. Everyone knows everyone.
I hate dating. The concept was clearly a man's idea.
It's spring time, and spring time means romance. I feel like I've been living under a rock. Oh wait, ok, time out.
This is not going to be another blog about pursuing my goals and consistent ruminations about taking over the world and filling it with hugs and ice cream.
One of my friends called me out recently, because she noticed that I've gone completely balls-to-the-walls with work. I justify my actions by saying that we're approaching a very important primary, and we seek to kick some dust under a few household names and shake things up in Harrisburg. This election is a big deal for me. It's my first campaign. All of this is very true, and I work every single day. I love what I do.
There are some things that have proved a bit challenging, though. When I think about my ex boyfriend, I work. When I think about the guy that I wish I were dating, and how he's great, but for someone else, I work. When I am approached by guys that I find repulsive, I work. When I like a guy and I think he may actually like me, I work.
I've used this whole working thing as a poor excuse for being anti-social and really dumping that whole notion of "falling in love" into the garbage disposal with the banana peels. The truth is I really don't think it's going to happen. Now, listen, this isn't a pity party by any means. MSNBC and CNN tell me at least once a month that since I am a black woman with a degree, I am less likely to find a man that will relate to me, and I will likely "date down" because the options are slim. Then there are the guys that I should like, but the spark isn't there. Like the guys that are decades older than me, people with a bigillion children, people who've never left their street corner, or cannot text a complete sentence. Ugh. I would like to know what I did in my last life to deserve this.
I think it's also the fact that this is the first time that I have been single for well over a year since I was 18 years old. I'm not lonely, but I have to say that I don't appreciate the fact that everyone's settled with their honeys, the engagements, the babies, the promise of that happily ever after thing that I wanted for so long. I believe in it - for others.
That's probably because it isn't what God placed me here to do. So I work. And I don't talk about it. And I pretend to care when there's a new flavor of the month or week or for however long that I'm interested before I am completely repulsed and disappointed. Picky? I don't know. I would say that I give people a fair shake. And then there is a part of me that now knows when my spirit simply cannot take another person. And usually, I regret that initial gut feeling when I don't listen to myself.
Anyway, there's also that danger of dating someone at work. People in politics know things even when they don't say anything, people watch, even when they pretend that they're not. Even if you're convinced that they aren't. Everyone knows everyone.
I hate dating. The concept was clearly a man's idea.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
See, life ain't so bad after all...
If anyone were to read this blog, with the intention of faithfully following it, they'd quickly discern that I am a hipster. Hipsters are people who ride bikes in the city, wear expressive shirts about social progress, listen to amazing musical artists that aren't heard on the radio, drink lattes and type furiously on their laptops in the cafe. Oh, and they have a blog, to which they may frequently commit, or they will neglect altogether. Having a blog is like having a facebook page. Everyone just has one.
Well, perhaps I shouldn't go that far. I figured, I'd berate myself before any of my fellow readers had the chance. But the truth is that I've been so busy that I've barely had a moment where I could breathe, without hesitation. It's election season, we've got a heck of a contest, and we're approaching May 18th a lot quicker than I thought. Otherwise, I'd tell you all EVERYTHING as it's happening. There is so much going on in my head, that I'm afraid it may explode! So, forgive me. I am my worst critic, and I forgive myself. Here's hoping that my sense of humor will be my redeeming quality. ;-)
So let's begin with the 190th district in PA. As I may have mentioned in the past, I've been doing work with the state representative of the third poorest district in the entire commonwealth of Pennsylvania. Each day, I travel 10 miles to get to work. There is a lot that you can learn about Philadelphia in those 10 miles everyday. I recently told a Bishop at church that I feel as though I'm cheating on West Philly at times, because I rest my head in a very privileged neighborhood. That's not to say that I have the money to live there and sustain on my own, however, the point is that I enjoy that life. I go from stray deer to stray dogs each day! It's kind of funny.
Kind of.
Ever ride down a street that stretches for miles and notice the neighborhood change? It's daunting. There is such a vast difference between those who are barely making it, versus the people who have 2010 SUVs in their apartment garages. Something is terribly wrong with that. I also began to realize the tactic used to keep the poor class out of these areas as well: limited access. It is so expensive to take the train to get to where I live, that the demographic for which I serve would NEVER venture into the neighborhood, if even to work, because they can't afford it. Public transportation is very limited, and there are no sidewalks in a lot of places. one may see them, intermittently throughout the suburban landscape, but it's all very strategically designed so that people are not actually able to walk on them. The only option is to walk along the side of the road. I admit that not having a car where I live can be embarrassing when I'm standing at the crosswalk of what looks like a high way. But when I think about the people that I serve who can barely eat, I am happy to take that humble pie and cross the darn street.
I did not foresee the affect that working with the constituents in the 190th district would have on me. To begin, I completely forgot that this representative serves my Nana and Pop Pop, two of my aunts, a distant relative, an uncle, and a close cousin, as well as her girlfriends. Who knew? I pass most of their houses every day in my travels and errands for the rep. I got to thinking recently about how attached I've become to the people in the community. There is a woman named Ms. Crestwell, and I love to get hugs from her. She reminds me so much of my grandmom (my father's mom), and her close friends are so fun and they are supportive of any events or meetings that we have. I know the police officers, Officer Parker, because I've attended their meetings with the area block captains. I know the store owners, and Mr. Sampson, who fusses over me as if I were his daughter. He never allows me to walk anywhere. I have to argue him down! Leigh has become something like a big brother to me at times and a good friend. I can't wait until the day that I am at one of HIS political events, and I can say, "I remember when we were two kids, wet behind the ears, working tirelessly, and passionately exchanging ideas about making a difference in our community..." And I'll have the pictures to prove it. Evangelist Fuller and Ms. Thomas, who I love so much and works at a local church, Ms. Leona, who is full of wonderful ideas. Mr. Lowery who is quiet and observant, but a very sweet and dear father to the Rep who has been a great support system for all of us. We've become a family, a coalition of people, who in some capacity continue to devote our lives to people in need. The thought makes my heart swell. I feel that I am armed with God's blessings, and I believe that He continues to bless me as I pursue a career in aiding urban communities, because it is what I've been called to do. I finally decided to stop fighting God on this. He always gets his way, anyway. My point: I love what I do.
Working in politics has given me the opportunity to better understand people, the community's circumstance, as well as the way the system works. I am not deterred by it. I think that there are a lot of things that people don't understand about getting involved. It is a person's civic duty to vote, because the voter is the boss. They decide who will be their warriors, who will not flinch when in the line of fire, people whose motivations are predicated upon a simple belief in social justice. There are also people who give me significant pause, because I am not terribly sure about their intentions, but I am not to concerned about them. They easily reveal themselves.
That's it for now. I will be back soon. But if you don't hear from me, it's because it's election season.
Oh, and speaking of which, how about Anthony Williams running for governor? If you don't know who his father is, google Hardy Williams + Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. What a tough act to follow. I'm humbled by Hardy Williams and his life's work.
That's your homework! Til next time!
No offense to hipsters, by the way. I completely own that I am one, with pride. I even pop my collar sometimes. :-)
Well, perhaps I shouldn't go that far. I figured, I'd berate myself before any of my fellow readers had the chance. But the truth is that I've been so busy that I've barely had a moment where I could breathe, without hesitation. It's election season, we've got a heck of a contest, and we're approaching May 18th a lot quicker than I thought. Otherwise, I'd tell you all EVERYTHING as it's happening. There is so much going on in my head, that I'm afraid it may explode! So, forgive me. I am my worst critic, and I forgive myself. Here's hoping that my sense of humor will be my redeeming quality. ;-)
So let's begin with the 190th district in PA. As I may have mentioned in the past, I've been doing work with the state representative of the third poorest district in the entire commonwealth of Pennsylvania. Each day, I travel 10 miles to get to work. There is a lot that you can learn about Philadelphia in those 10 miles everyday. I recently told a Bishop at church that I feel as though I'm cheating on West Philly at times, because I rest my head in a very privileged neighborhood. That's not to say that I have the money to live there and sustain on my own, however, the point is that I enjoy that life. I go from stray deer to stray dogs each day! It's kind of funny.
Kind of.
Ever ride down a street that stretches for miles and notice the neighborhood change? It's daunting. There is such a vast difference between those who are barely making it, versus the people who have 2010 SUVs in their apartment garages. Something is terribly wrong with that. I also began to realize the tactic used to keep the poor class out of these areas as well: limited access. It is so expensive to take the train to get to where I live, that the demographic for which I serve would NEVER venture into the neighborhood, if even to work, because they can't afford it. Public transportation is very limited, and there are no sidewalks in a lot of places. one may see them, intermittently throughout the suburban landscape, but it's all very strategically designed so that people are not actually able to walk on them. The only option is to walk along the side of the road. I admit that not having a car where I live can be embarrassing when I'm standing at the crosswalk of what looks like a high way. But when I think about the people that I serve who can barely eat, I am happy to take that humble pie and cross the darn street.
I did not foresee the affect that working with the constituents in the 190th district would have on me. To begin, I completely forgot that this representative serves my Nana and Pop Pop, two of my aunts, a distant relative, an uncle, and a close cousin, as well as her girlfriends. Who knew? I pass most of their houses every day in my travels and errands for the rep. I got to thinking recently about how attached I've become to the people in the community. There is a woman named Ms. Crestwell, and I love to get hugs from her. She reminds me so much of my grandmom (my father's mom), and her close friends are so fun and they are supportive of any events or meetings that we have. I know the police officers, Officer Parker, because I've attended their meetings with the area block captains. I know the store owners, and Mr. Sampson, who fusses over me as if I were his daughter. He never allows me to walk anywhere. I have to argue him down! Leigh has become something like a big brother to me at times and a good friend. I can't wait until the day that I am at one of HIS political events, and I can say, "I remember when we were two kids, wet behind the ears, working tirelessly, and passionately exchanging ideas about making a difference in our community..." And I'll have the pictures to prove it. Evangelist Fuller and Ms. Thomas, who I love so much and works at a local church, Ms. Leona, who is full of wonderful ideas. Mr. Lowery who is quiet and observant, but a very sweet and dear father to the Rep who has been a great support system for all of us. We've become a family, a coalition of people, who in some capacity continue to devote our lives to people in need. The thought makes my heart swell. I feel that I am armed with God's blessings, and I believe that He continues to bless me as I pursue a career in aiding urban communities, because it is what I've been called to do. I finally decided to stop fighting God on this. He always gets his way, anyway. My point: I love what I do.
Working in politics has given me the opportunity to better understand people, the community's circumstance, as well as the way the system works. I am not deterred by it. I think that there are a lot of things that people don't understand about getting involved. It is a person's civic duty to vote, because the voter is the boss. They decide who will be their warriors, who will not flinch when in the line of fire, people whose motivations are predicated upon a simple belief in social justice. There are also people who give me significant pause, because I am not terribly sure about their intentions, but I am not to concerned about them. They easily reveal themselves.
That's it for now. I will be back soon. But if you don't hear from me, it's because it's election season.
Oh, and speaking of which, how about Anthony Williams running for governor? If you don't know who his father is, google Hardy Williams + Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. What a tough act to follow. I'm humbled by Hardy Williams and his life's work.
That's your homework! Til next time!
No offense to hipsters, by the way. I completely own that I am one, with pride. I even pop my collar sometimes. :-)
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Poor-dom
Tonight's State of the Union address coincided with my newfound love and job in Philadelphia. I'm currently an intern for Representative Vanessa Lowery Brown in the 190th District in the commonwealth of Pennsylvania. Simply put, I work at the local legislative office for Representative Brown, a newly elected freshman in the Pennsylvania House of Representatives. I learned on my first day that I am serving the third poorest district in the entire state. Some would think that this is scary, I see it as an opportunity to go where a helpful hand is needed.
The first day, they put me to work. The immediate needs of our constituents are the simple but very important necessities: food, shelter, and jobs. There are people who will come into the office who need help because they can't keep their heat on, and they have children. They have no food, but they have children, and the prospect of obtaining a job for the local community members is dismal. They're facing gentrification from University City, and getting pushed out of their communities without much support from the people that are pushing them out. I am determined to learn the key players and what they plan to do, because I don't think the long term option of pushing people into the suburbs is very fair. Why renew the community for people who aren't part of the community? Do they have a say in all of this?
Gentrification, as it stands now, is unethical. It also has an eerie semblance to colonialism, except instead of using guns, the powers that be are using money, and instead of hurting members of the community, members of the community are left alone to hurt each other, perhaps succumb to drugs, violence and a sub par education from local public schools that struggle to meet minimal mandated standards.
There is a diplomatic approach: support the people in the community, give them jobs, give them affordable housing, provide training for them to ascend to better positions and financial situations in their neighborhoods, create leaders and strong families. These are people who cannot put bread on the table without our help, and while providing food for them for the next week or month or year is an immediate concern, these other needs should be met with the same kind of urgency.
Here's my problem though. I was listening to President Obama's State of the Union address, and while I applaud his tenacity for the people that put him in office, there are some of us who are hanging on by a thread, if at all. The poor can no longer wait to be placed on the agenda as a high priority. Which leads to my next question: What happened to Obama's Department of Urban Policy? Mr. Shaun Donovan, did I miss a recent press release? What will we tell the women in these single parent households, with babies that they cannot place into childcare because they cannot find a job, because jobs are scarce, and because they may not be able to compete with the neighboring Ivy League kids at UPenn or pretty much any accessible school along the Market Frankford El line? What about the people who cannot go the hospital because they can't afford it, people without insurance? Mr. President, if we were to play a drinking game with the number of times that you mentioned the middle class tonight, things would get pretty interesting, pretty quickly, but what about the working poor? Or simply the poor? Have we neglected them?
We cannot disappoint the poor either.
It just makes me wonder what the heck "middle class" even means. But that's another topic for another day. Right now, I want to know what happens tomorrow when I am speaking to our constituents who need food, shelter and JOBS. Money for wars, but can't feed the poor. Isn't that what Tupac said? Didn't he say that almost 20 years ago now? Let us not count out the poor. They, too, need solutions now.
The first day, they put me to work. The immediate needs of our constituents are the simple but very important necessities: food, shelter, and jobs. There are people who will come into the office who need help because they can't keep their heat on, and they have children. They have no food, but they have children, and the prospect of obtaining a job for the local community members is dismal. They're facing gentrification from University City, and getting pushed out of their communities without much support from the people that are pushing them out. I am determined to learn the key players and what they plan to do, because I don't think the long term option of pushing people into the suburbs is very fair. Why renew the community for people who aren't part of the community? Do they have a say in all of this?
Gentrification, as it stands now, is unethical. It also has an eerie semblance to colonialism, except instead of using guns, the powers that be are using money, and instead of hurting members of the community, members of the community are left alone to hurt each other, perhaps succumb to drugs, violence and a sub par education from local public schools that struggle to meet minimal mandated standards.
There is a diplomatic approach: support the people in the community, give them jobs, give them affordable housing, provide training for them to ascend to better positions and financial situations in their neighborhoods, create leaders and strong families. These are people who cannot put bread on the table without our help, and while providing food for them for the next week or month or year is an immediate concern, these other needs should be met with the same kind of urgency.
Here's my problem though. I was listening to President Obama's State of the Union address, and while I applaud his tenacity for the people that put him in office, there are some of us who are hanging on by a thread, if at all. The poor can no longer wait to be placed on the agenda as a high priority. Which leads to my next question: What happened to Obama's Department of Urban Policy? Mr. Shaun Donovan, did I miss a recent press release? What will we tell the women in these single parent households, with babies that they cannot place into childcare because they cannot find a job, because jobs are scarce, and because they may not be able to compete with the neighboring Ivy League kids at UPenn or pretty much any accessible school along the Market Frankford El line? What about the people who cannot go the hospital because they can't afford it, people without insurance? Mr. President, if we were to play a drinking game with the number of times that you mentioned the middle class tonight, things would get pretty interesting, pretty quickly, but what about the working poor? Or simply the poor? Have we neglected them?
We cannot disappoint the poor either.
It just makes me wonder what the heck "middle class" even means. But that's another topic for another day. Right now, I want to know what happens tomorrow when I am speaking to our constituents who need food, shelter and JOBS. Money for wars, but can't feed the poor. Isn't that what Tupac said? Didn't he say that almost 20 years ago now? Let us not count out the poor. They, too, need solutions now.
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