People never get the flowers while they can still smell 'em

I'm writing this down before I forget or lose the feeling to sleep or the slice of cake or two glasses of half a bottle of champagne I consumed during the night. I turned 26 about 11 hours ago, and thus far, the day has proceeded better than many birthdays I can think of. A lot of I-me-my-mines were uttered on those other birthdays. A lot of self-absorption, rather than self-reflection, took place. Now, of all days that one can be self-conscious or conceited, I suppose the birthday is the most appropriate. But, this morning, a feeling was put on my spirit to say "Thank you" not reactively for birthday wishes I received, but preemptively, because of the year I've had. The years* I've had, until now, have contained disappointment, anxiety, confusion, curiosity, wonder, pain, joy, happiness, love, romance, and heartbreak. As I mentioned to a friend on the phone this afternoon, I usually took my birthday as the day to reflect on all that I've been through, but I would get stuck on where I should be or why I wasn't feeling satisfied.

This birthday was different. The experiences in my 26 years remain the same, but I looked at them through a new lens this time. I experienced today, and lately have been experiencing days, that felt...in their proper place. Today, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be, felt like I was learning and growing and meeting and absorbing all the experiences I was supposed to, and the people I was meant to meet...it all felt like, on this birthday, I finally had "arrived." No, I haven't made it to the pinnacle of success or to the peak of my career or social life. I'd arrived, in my spirit, in my heart, in a place of acceptance, and peace and ease. I accepted what happened and what I received with reckless abandon, and without regard for how big or shiny or meaningful or long or short or clever it was. I hosted a game night and invited my classmates (at this point, still acquaintances/new friends/budding relationships) and they showed up and I was genuinely moved and appreciative that people took time out of their day to come celebrate me. But it wasn't about me, it was about what we were building and how everyone felt being a part of that experience. I was honored to be a part of it, not to be the cause for it.

I'm having lots of feelings, thoughts and reflections on this birthday. It's usually a time of deep thought and taking account of where I am and where I need to get to next. But, this year felt different. I'm quite content with living in the moment, each moment, and being grateful for all the confusing or heartbreaking or joyful or unexpected moments that culminated on this second...and this one. It all adds up to 26 years of friends, family and even new classmates who are still getting to know me taking time out of their lives and studying to come to game night. I'm in a good place right now- grateful for the blessings and the sorrows I've experienced. God's timing and execution of His plan don't always line up with the timing you want. I know they haven't for me. But, it took accepting his divine knowledge rather than fighting it to reach this place of peace. I've prayed for it a long time, but I didn't realize that prayer had been answered until today when my friend Arthur asked me if I made any birthday resolutions. I didn't have any because the ones I made last year have already manifested. I've let go of the anxiety, trying to direct every next step. I'm working on praying more and exercising (probably lifelong goals, right?)

So, I'm here, without fear, get used to it. Thank you to everyone who wished me a happy birthday, who showed up to my party/game night. Thank you for cooking me breakfast (AGIII) bringing me cake (Lizzie) and wine and champagne (everyone) and buying me dinner (M. Greezy and Guild) and baking me cookies (Melissa/Katie S.). Thanks to everyone for the instagrams and Facebooks. I'm sure it's really millennial of me to say this, but I acknowledge there are people out there who don't have someone to post a picture of them on their birthday. Or even if they do, some folks don't have or take the time to do so. I thank God for each and every one of you who did that, or who hugged me or thought of me today or any day. I hope I've made you feel special or will make you feel special sometime in the year. It seems like birthdays are about taking account of not only how old you've gotten and what you've experienced, but counting each person who's influenced you and guided you on your way to that place. 26 is going to be a year of prayer, focus, tenacity and teamwork. If today's any indication of what my year 27 reflection will look like, we're gonna need some more champagne.

Being Joyful

This morning as I got ready for church, I turned on Super Soul Sunday as background noise. I watched parts of the interview as I made oatmeal and picked out a dress. Part of the episode featured a cancer survivor, now well-past the ten-year time limit her doctors spoke on her life when she was diagnosed with "cancer, cancer, cancer, cancer"  all throughout her liver. She said she often thinks back on how many days she wasted awaiting joy. "When I get better..." or "when my cancer goes away,..." she thought, "then I'll have joy."

This sentiment of finding joy in the moment, not waiting for happenings to be happy, is one that was echoed in the sermon a few hours later. As I sat next to a new classmate, I listened to the scripture read that asks us to think about where we were when we were saved. As we often call out in church, I'm not where I'm going to be, but thank God I'm not where I used to be. I feel this sentiment not only about the mistakes I've made, or the words and arrows I've shot that I wish I could take back. I also think about the sense of peace and acceptance I've reached, knowing I came a long way from the frenetic, anxious, unconfident teenager and college student I was only a few short years ago.

I started medical school last week. Though my first day of medical school class was something I thought i'd have experienced at age 21, something I wished for endlessly, as I jotted down "26th birthday!" on my calendar this morning before I left for church, I realized that it's at this age, at this level of maturity that God knew I'd be able to handle that first day of class and the 4 years of classes ahead of me. I have a sense of peace that I am exactly where I'm meant to be, because I am living with joy, rather than waiting for happiness. This is something I struggled with only a few years ago, because I kept waiting on what I wanted to happen, to happen. "When I get into UNC...", "when I start medical school..." i thought, "then i'll have joy."

But joy comes in the morning, does it not? Usuaully right after your darkest hour when you're forced to either fold, or have faith. Joy comes when you get yet another rejection letter, but you somehow find the willingness to re-apply. Joy comes when you're supplied with every tool and all the time you needed to study for the MCAT, even though that means moving home and being unemployed to do so. Joy is being willing to accept that you can ask for what you want, and then be faithful that God will provide what you need. I admit I was frustrated and angry that I had rejoiced in the Lord and he did not give me the desires of my heart. But, my problem was that I had done my rejoicing all wrong. I had expected it to be an even exchange, and rather than finding joy, I was seeking a specific blessing. We can know where we want to go, but the Lord has to direct our steps to get there. Being comfortable walking blindly in the path he lays out for us, and accepting that you will be placed where you need to be, that's joy.

I won't be foolish enough to think that I won't face more moments of living outside of my joy. I won't say that I will always be this confident in my abilities to succeed here, that I won't wish school were easier or that I won't wonder how I'll make it through. However, I will try my best to at least remember that I am where I am supposed to be. In those moments of doubt, I will remind myself that, I got not only what I asked for but what is best for me, because it was given to me on God's time and for a purpose greater than graduation. My purpose here is to live out the calling on my life- a medical degree is a means to an end. That end is to glorify God.

The countdown's almost over, and I didn't record a single thing.

This is both a love letter to my new favorite band (even though, I don't think I had an old favorite) and also a letter to myself about ten years from now.  This is the letter that Celeste A. _____, MD (not that I'm hoping for a new last name but, anything could happen) will need to read after performing her umpteenth baby delivery or physical exam or appendectomy. When she's feeling consumed by the pagers and pages of that essay she owes the New Yorker which won't write themselves. 

There was a point in time, not too long ago, mind you, that the lyrics with which your younger self could most closely relate were "after 25 years I should be good at something/gone are the days of me being so innocent." The words were sung by Rachael Price, lead singer of your then-favorite band, Lake Street Dive. You ranked the album those lyrics came from, Bad Self Portraits, as number three of your instant classics. Ranked only behind The College Dropout and Section 80, Bad Self Portraits was the soundtrack to your final six months before starting medical school. You didn't feel quite like you were an expert at anything by age 25, but I think you were pretty good at living in the moment and trying to find the lesson in those moments, instead of lamenting. That's good at something. Don't lose that. Or, if you've lost it, remember you had it once. 

When you're feeling like you can't figure out the latest problem life's thrown at you, Celeste _____, MD, remember you spent a year and a half without a microwave. When you're feeling monotonous, remember you learned to cook and enjoy shrimp. When you're craving romance, remember you went on dates with nice guys and gentlemen, and when you're feeling impatient remember you also went on a date with a guy who thought a fun Saturday morning date meant having you run a mile while strapped to a tractor tire. All of these things and more were things you experienced living in Washington, DC. In 18 short months, you went from a four-time MCAT taker and wet-behind-the-ears employee to a confident Metrobus rider and published writer. You didn't wait for some magazine or Instagram likes or  award ceremony to feel validated in your lived life. You jumped into experiences feet first, so you could stand self-assured and be self-supportive. 

You got into the school of your dreams. You, whom life usually surprises and brings unexpected turns, you prayed and prayed for something and three years later, God saw fit to place you at the very same school you prayed to go to. So don't ever think that you know best; just remember that if you pray hard enough and fail (and try again) enough at something, you might get exactly what you want, but only after God teaches you what you'll need to excel there.

If you haven't yet reached your dreams, Celeste _____, MD, if you haven't yet started your nonprofit or become a contributing writer for a major magazine like Atul Gawande, or if you are having issues with family or you hate your haircut or life feels THIS BIG and you're just lost in it, remember that you wrote this on a bus. You wrote this on a flash-flood-warning-rainstorming Friday while riding on the L2. You were late-ish to work. But, you were on your way. And you still are. 

wan·der·lust [won-der-luhst] (noun.) a strong, innate desire to rove or travel about.

Summer of Wander 

1. Visit Eastern Market outdoor shopping on a Sunday
2. Watch a movie outside (Screen on the Green)
3. Eat at 2 Amys Pizza
4. Row on the Potomac
5. Iwo Jima Memorial Tour
6. Eat a Manouch hotdog
7. Visit Ford's Theatre and the house where Lincoln died
8. Nationals Game
9. Take a tour at the Mansion on O Street
10. Visit a winery
11. Visit a brewery
12. Drag Queen brunch at Perry's
13. Visit Phillips Gallery
14. DC United Game
15. Eat at Standard Restaurant 
16. Eat a half-smoke all the way from Ben's Chili Bowl
17. Supreme Court tour
18. Visit the Newseum
19. Library of Congress tour
20. Watch the DC Rollergirls play
21. Visit all the Smithsonian Museums
22. Dinner at an embassy
23. Eat at Johnny's Half Shell
24. Visit the Big Chair in Anacostia and the Big Chair in Georgetown
25. Visit Frederick Douglass National Historic Site
26. Church at Rankin Chapel
27. Seersucker Bike Ride Social or Tweed Ride
28. Old Post Office tour
29. Eat at Dangerously Delicious Pies
30. Attend an event at Howard Theater
31. Attend a concert at 9:30 Club
32. Drinks at Black Cat
33. Eat at Granville Moore's

Follow through.

            My dad taught me how to play tennis. This isn’t a noteworthy feat in and of itself, because a lot of dads teach their daughters lots of things, and lots of daughters have dads for tennis coaches. For us, it’s significant. My dad has been an athlete his entire life. He’s such an athlete, and more importantly, so committed to excellence, that he taught himself how to play tennis, too. He plays against (and beats) folks who have been playing their entire lives, possibly peoples whose dads taught them to play. This is a testament to and snapshot of my dad’s character…and, being so committed to excellence, whatever you’re thinking about the kind of coach he might be, assume you’re right. Still, even when my game was a little faulty, and I didn’t practice as much as he told me to, my dad treated me to new tennis shoes, apparel, and even gave me one of his racquets to call my own.

            I was able to play tennis with my dad because I moved back home this September, some post-graduate plans having fallen through and others not yet coming to fruition. After a few weeks of moping, feeling sorry for myself and trying to figure out if I had done something wrong to end up in south Florida, I finally joined my dad on the tennis court. It occupied my time productively, got me in shape and gave me a chance to join my dad while doing something he loves.

There are a few phrases my dad stresses and repeats throughout every tennis lesson. Stay in the shot. Follow through. Watch the ball. Control, not power. These reminders apply to forehand and backhand shots, building a consistent volley game, and not wasting valuable energy during a match. Some drills were mundane, and when I tried to emulate tennis pros by taking shortcuts, my dad reminded me tricks could not substitute for real skill.

There were many days when, both on and off the tennis court, I wondered how any of these lessons mattered. How did I end up here? I felt like I got off the highway at a wrong exit, and was wandering around with no end in sight. Sure I enjoyed tennis, and spending time with my family, but mounting doubt and debt still weighed heavily on my mind.

 In moments like that, I’m glad I had friends and this church family to remind me, God said he will make a way in the wilderness. Rough ground becomes level and rugged places become a plain. God was sending me through what felt like wilderness, to deliver me to a promised land. Every swing and a miss, every out of bounds return was preparation for the day when I could finally return and beat my dad on one of his serves. The lessons he taught me all came together. Shoulder over the knee, racquet back early, full turn through the swing and a crosscourt shot will land well in bounds and out of the opponent’s reach. So every cover letter, every un-returned follow up email, every interview finally came through with a job offer in Washington, DC. The money I’ll be making, the opportunities I’ll have to build my network and further myself in my career- they’re blessings I don’t deserve. I know better than to declare victory for myself. I didn’t do any of it. The winning shots I returned to my dad would have been impossible had he not repeated those lessons to me over and over. So I knew better than to say me receiving this offer to start my career was just me, being all good- it’s all God.  

Starting next Monday, I won’t get to play tennis in the mornings with my dad anymore. Just as soon as I started to show consistent improvement with my game, all those plans I had set in motion started moving at full speed, and tennis with my dad will now have to take place on visits home from Washington, DC. As I reconsider the past few months- which at the time felt like an eternity- I realize my dad taught me about how to proceed through these new transitions. I also realize that the unconditional love and guidance I received from my father on earth, is multiplied infinitely by the love and favor provided to me by my father in heaven. I had been praying for a clear direction, a clear path toward my next step in life. In his image, God created a man who could show me that, just like on the tennis court, reaching the next level of success takes follow through. It takes staying in earshot of God’s voice, through prayer; attacking my goals without worrying about when or if they’ll come true, and allowing my hand and my life to be controlled by His power, not my own.

            My father in heaven, like my father on earth, does not make learning these lessons easy. You can’t learn how to play tennis by watching. You learn by doing, and by practicing every day, especially when you don’t feel like it.

My dad taught me how to play tennis. My dad taught me how to have faith. 

9 Things I'm Looking Forward to at N.S.L.C.

What was your "best ever?"  Many of us can reflect on a memorable family vacation where, for once, everyone got along and no one came down with a cold or food poisoning...or, maybe it's a road trip with your best friends, when the driver never got lost, the passenger-seat-DJ always chose the right track, and even the unexpected hiccups worked out in your favor. For me, the best ever was the Best Summer Ever in 2010, when I first worked at the National Student Leadership Conference at the University of Maryland. That June, I came full circle with NSLC, because in 2004 I was a student in the very same Medicine and Healthcare program, back when Chuck Taylors and layered tanks were my wardrobe of choice.

Before the Best Summer Ever started, I couldn't imagine I would bond so well with my fellow staff members who, weeks before, were complete strangers. Our life experiences were so different- some agnostics; some biology majors; one a fan of techno, and another a vegetarian. But, we ate ribs, prayed, laughed, and danced in harmony for three months. We laughed and talked in that way because we knew we existed in a space of our own...no naysayer or FBI-issued wire tap could breach the realm of security and acceptance we shared. No one else who wasn't a part of us could understand how so many different I's formed such a supportive team. Thrown into the trenches, facing nearly 1000 high school students over the course of 12 weeks, we survived together what no man or woman could handle on their own...it was the epitome of a "you had to be there" experience, and thank God, I was.

Here we are, two years later. I know I'm a lot different than I was back then, so who knows how different each of this year's staff will be from each other? Many would worry at a moment like this, wishing they would be arriving in a time machine and going back to Summer 2010. But I have to say, I'm looking forward to a brand new, and completely unique summer. I know nothing will ever be like Summer 2010. And, I don't want it to be. The problem with having the "best ever" of something is that try as you might to recreate it, in reality, perfection can't be planned. That awesome road trip won't turn out the same as the first time, because there will undoubtedbly be a new detour on your route.  I know that NSLC makes people change. We grow, whether we want to or not. This program is more about building relationships than any workshop or leadership training, because if it wasn't, none of the staff would return summer after summer, hoping to get a taste of the best ever. But, I'm back, and though I know there will be moments I can't anticipate, I know at NSLC I can count on having a good time. I'm looking forward to new memories, new friends, and the nine things listed below. It won't be the Best Ever, but Summer 2012 is definitely going to be perfect and memorable in its own way. And, that's the best way it could be.

1. Hugs. I'm a really affectionate person, but I know people get a little nervous sometimes when you hug too long, and so I became a butt-out hugger. You know...when you embrace someone with your arms, but the rest of your body is playing hide and go seek with the other person's pelvis. Not this summer. As emotions and what not abound, I'm hugging everyone like this:



2. "New" Music. I don't have a car radio (or a car for that matter,) and anyone who knows anything knows that driving around is usually my favorite way to listen to music. I try to stay updated with Spotify, Twitter, and blogs, but oftentimes the radio hits that everyone else feels are played out and overrated are brand new to me. I hope to be singing along to some Ke$ha and Bieber by summer's end.

3. Making it clear. Nothing puts your life in perspective than having to explain life to a 14-year old. I hope the conversations I have with my students as someone older and wiser (who, me?) will help me to realize what's important. At that age, they just want to know that one day they can achieve what they've always dreamed of, and I want to be an example of a "grown-up" who didn't sell out and is still going after her dreams.

4. Getting in shape. Ugh...I'm only writing this down so you guys can hold me accountable. In my head, I envision a peaceful morning run through campus, followed by a healthy breakfast and a shower, before I meet up with my students. I'm not sure how many 7:00AM field trips it will take to persuade me that this is probably a bad idea.

5. Icebreakers. I'm not ashamed to say this, but I love team-building activities. They really do help to break that fourth wall and skip the whole "so, what's your major?" nonsense and other typical conversation starters. Add in a little competition, and I'm the happiest girl in the world.

6. Forgetting I'm supposed to worry about... well, a lot of things. We'll be so busy worrying about our kids and making sure the program goes off without a hitch, that I can stop fretting over callbacks and future plans and let God do his thing without me badgering him everyday. Everything happens in its due time, so in the mean time, in between time, I'll work my thing, and it'll be fine.

7. Free Food. Add this to the explanation in number 4 as reasons why my goal to work out and get in shape will probably be for naught.

8. Inside jokes. Let's let fun happen. I'm still Facebooking my Summer '10 students about pastries in my cup. I want a summer full of mouth-open-but-no-sound-coming-out, eyes closed, belly-aching laughter.

9. Wearing a uniform. I spend far too much time in the morning picking out what I'm going to wear, then changing it three times. I love that this part of my day will be taken care of for me, and that I won't be wearing my after-school clothes as often, meaning less wear and tear on those bad boys and most importantly- less laundry.

"This summer, I ain't finna say, 'Next summer, I'm finna...'"

It's been a minute, but I'm right back in it. For those of you who know me well, you know about The List. This list is not your typical to-do or grocery list. Nay, The List is all about having fun. Actually, let me rephrase that. The pseudo-bucket list I keep on my cellphone (R.I.P. to the list I lost when I got a new Blackberry over spring break), includes every restaurant I want to try, books I want to read, songs to download and places I'd like to visit. Problem is, I spend so much time tackling the non-listed mandatory to do's that I don't often get around to The List. But, that's about to change, people. Summer's here, and if I've learned anything since college, I learned that you have to seize the do-nothing moments, and do something. I've embraced my sense of adventure over the past few years, and I don't want to lose momentum now. I've felt a little anxiety lately fending off the barrage of "what's next?!" questions, (which I suppose people think is a welcome topic for a 23-year old grad school graduate with no job prospects? please, stop.), and I need a way to refocus my energy on something positive...something memorable. I'll admit it. I love a challenge as much as I love chicken wings. But, this list isn't about stressing myself out over meaningless challenges just to prove my willpower to myself. Like that one summer I forbid myself from eating fast food and the place I was staying in didn't have a kitchen. Genius. Nope, this list means it's time to get up, get out, and do something I enjoy.

The List: Summer 2012 Edition*

1. Speak Spanish/learn a new Spanish word every day

2. Carry a water bottle.

3. Eat salad every day...any toppings allowed including bacon.

4. Read at least 3 fiction books that have nothing to do with medicine or history.

5. Try 3 new drinks and 3 new beers.

6. Try eggs Benedict.

7. Have a frittata.

8. Swim! Preferably with my head under water, but at least be in the pool, arms windmilling.

9. Blog often...mostly about my experiences experiencing The List.

10. Eat lots of fruit.

11. Wear bright colors.

I'm sure I'll think of some more things, but for now, these are my summer must-do's. What's on your summer manifesto?

*(Inspired by the good folks at Lifehacker.)

UPDATE:
12. Be "on the blogs" to stay current with new music. 

My mother, my father, and love.

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It's About Time!

We all have our excuses. “It’s been a long day.” I need to relax.” “I’ll skip lunch tomorrow.”  Whatever the reason, we have all been there. And, ‘there’ is as far away from the gym as possible. The benefits of having a consistent workout regimen are huge: healthier hearts, reduced blood pressure, and even an improved mood and lowered anxiety levels. So, what’s the problem? Why is more than half of the country physically inactive, when the CDC recommends at least 150 minutes of exercise per week?

One of the biggest reasons to skip the gym is because we are dedicating time to something else… but, this is where we can start making the most change. Schedule exercise time just like you schedule business meetings or study groups, and stop looking at appointments with the gym as a date with torture. The CDC’s Physical Activity page suggests taking a few 10-minute walks each day of the work week, to break up your routine. Need to touch base with a client? Put on your walking shoes and take the call outdoors! Take the stairs to your apartment, or carry hand-weights while you walk the dog. By adopting these new habits, you can start slowly, and build up to 150 minutes or more. Exercise is important for people of all abilities, and the National Center for Physical Activity and Disability recommends kayaking, tai chi, and other routines as alternatives for vigorous exercise.

We all have our excuses, but as APHA’s National Public Health Week approaches, we are reminded that every minute we make an excuse not to work out, we are increasing our risks for not-so-minute health problems. Make time for yourself and your health, even if it means rescheduling your day. Your improved attitude and fitness are worth every minute! 

Happy [New Year] Birthday to Me

"I guess you can't follow up a praise with a 'but', can you?," said the almost-birthday girl.

That would be me. A year ago, as Facebook thought was appropriate to remind me tonight, I was packed and ready to move to Maryland and start graduate school at GW. The 2009-2010 school year was one of great expectation, disappointment, and then finally, reassuring clarity I prayed for, but never really knew what the answer to that prayer would look like. 2010-2011 answered that question...so, what was clarity?

It was 15 hours in a car ride with my daddy, who drove me up to the DMV. Hours stacked up, like an arsenal of love, to buffer the times when I wish I could hang out with him, but am too far away to snuggle into my reserved spot on his shoulder while watching NCIS.

It was my first apartment, completely furnished, and more affordable and spacious than any grad student deserves.

It was a grade point average valedictorians are envious of, and course material I was impassioned about. Who likes going to class? Celeste does.

It was finding a new hobby, in performing spoken word, and enjoying the sound of applause after the echo of my own words fades from the speakers.

Among the many blessings, I faced some of the greatest challenges I have ever faced in my young adult life. No close friends or family near by, I was forced to the front lines in the war many people lose each day- being myself. Orlando was training camp, and Washington D.C. was the battleground.

To the victor go the spoils.

I'm writing this between sips (straight from the bottle) from a new wine I bought at Trader Joe's on my first shopping trip to the grocery store as a resident of the District. White Lambrusco is bringing in the year of 23- the year of anti-cavalier. I don't have time or patience to act as if every day is not crucial to becoming more of who (whom?) I am destined to be. 23- the year of paying attention- to my school work, to my networth, to the relationships I want to keep, and the relationships I want to build. 23- the year I applied to medical school, took the MCAT twice (as of Tuesday afternoon), and realized no matter what it takes, being a doctor is all I want to be. 23- the year I finally opened myself up to exploring romance, and whether or not it works out, I can tell you already, I'm glad I took that leap of faith.

I tried to complain about being by myself on my birthday. Tried to gripe about not being sure if a birthday cake, card, and presents would arrive by the 20th at midnight. I tried to be ungrateful and somber, and wayyyy too poetic about what is and will remain the most simple and blessed fact of today: that I am here, another year, another day, another moment to experience all that is laid out for me to see. I didn't know that this is how I would bring in my 23rd birthday, and the way this bottle is being drained, who knows what will happen by midnight? But, I'll tell you one thing- I'm not drinking to hide from reality. I'm toasting the truth- that I'm happy to be alive, and continuing to find that clarity I asked God for a long time ago.

If you're still reading this rant, know that you too can be as deliberate and deep and poetic as you want about your birthday. But, dude. You may not have much time to be sad. There's no guarantee you'll have another one, so reflect on where you've been and step boldly to where you're going. I promise, you won't be alone on the way. We're all just out here figuring out what's next. Toast to your damn self, and live life as if everyday was the anniversary of your glorious arrival on earth.

So cheers. (sip sip) Happy Birthday, Celeste.

More Than Words

Last week Wednesday was rainy, but not gloomy by far. A week before, the fabulous Spring weather in the DMV had my mom thinking she's cut out for the northern life. But her spring break visit was too short and sweet, and I was again hit with reminders of my first real winter, which I'd only just begun to forget about. Funny how sunshine and khaki shorts can make you forget what a scarf around the neck even feels like, huh? And, who knew there was actually a difference between my regular seasons: hot and cold? This Floridian didn't. Either way, Sparkle and I made the trek down to Washington that morning, yes, without a GPS...but it took me about 15 minutes longer than it should have to make it to campus. Work in progress. The occasion for Sparkle's guest appearance in the District? A spoken word event, hosted by me, sponsored by the Black Public Health Student Network. You probably saw me mention it on Facebook, Twitter, BBM, gmail...you get it. I was pubbing like crazy, and thrilled at the opportunity to rub elbows and exchange poems with some of DC's best. These guys and gal competed in the huge slam event, Graffiti DC, they have YouTube video views galore (that's when you've REALLY made it), and all came highly recommended. I knew the highlight would be watching and listening to the other poets, maybe soaking up some of their talent through osmosis.

By 6pm, Sparkle was parked and unloaded, turkey sandwich platters and water bottles graced the tables in the on-campus lounge, and the neosoul Genius mix was spewing acoustic inspiration from the Bose speakers. Those who attended left with smiles on their faces, and I left with an uplifted and inspired mind (and two new BBM contacts, but you expected that, didn't you?) It's safe to say, everyone, that I LOVE spoken word. And, I am IN LOVE with performing it. But, this is a relationship that I may have to treat like a long-distance lover for a while. I'll only see my poetry book on weekends here and there. I've neglected the blogging and poem writing for a while because I'm giving this MCAT thing and school all I've got. Trying to, anyway. Keeping up the stamina problem after Chemistry problem after Physics problem is tough...and here I am wasting perfectly conscious night time minutes on a memory.

But, I can't stop thinking about it.

Sharing my words with the crowd, mostly strangers, and getting a few under-the-breath moans of agreement and head nods, that was a reassuring feeling I hope will never feel jaded. Being appreciated, being understood. Closing your eyes, and hoping that when they open, those people in the crowd who could boo you, make eye contact to give props, instead. They feel whatever you were feeling when you raised your voice and didn't even mean to get loud. You hope they can resonate with the emotions you croon in octaves you didn't even know you could reach. Will they get it? That was my big fear before I went up to perform. But when I started reciting my poem, I forgot about crowd appreciation, and I just listened to the woman who was up there baring her soul through my voice and lyrics- the woman I wrote about who I'd met nearly a year ago. I channeled her pain when I wrote it, and I believe we all ended up tuned in.

Here I go getting poetic again. Time to hit these notecards and catch the train back to the apartmadorm, folks. See you soon.

Lip-service, a.k.a. "chirps from birds."*

The year is 2007. It was a national day of remembrance, and a day Curtis Jackson will certainly never forget. With bated breath, hip-hop fans awaited the official results, and people who bet on "at least 300,000 more units sold” probably felt like Miss Cleo, reincarnated. By the end of the first week, it was confirmed. The career of the most bulletproof rapper in hip-hop had been shot down by a former art student who loved to rap about his mommy.

Just a year before the historic album-release battle, Twitter was founded, and within two years of Kanye West’s historic victory, mobile phones and internet connections across the nation were accessing this online schoolyard. Everyone, and their best friend’s college roommate’s ex-girlfriend, tries to outwit each other with 140 characters worth of pure genius…or is it pure bullshit? It seems to me like many of the people who were forced to back up their big talk in the real world, now have the luxury of beefing up their prowess from the soft shoulder of the information super-highway. Party promoters can boost an event by guaranteeing it will sell out, and as they press send from their TweetDeck, a full stack of unsold tickets sits on their desk and continues to collect dust. Men and women who swear they keep it real fill timelines with posts about all the drama they aren’t about. Luckily, the person they are writing about has yet to create a Twitter account, so, there's no chance of getting caught and backing up all of the shit they’ve been talking.

Just like Fifty Cent tried to brush off his supremely embarrassing defeat by the Louis Vuitton Don, people use Twitter as a gimmick to beef up their social life and fend off any real-life self-doubt. I have no problem with self-esteem, nor do I have a problem with other people having high esteem of their @#&$#%^%@%#ing self. What I do have a problem with, however, is how our generation has become this pretentious and self-righteous group of naysayers and complainers. Everything is less than perfect, and nothing is worth bragging about, unless we or our friends are involved…and then, it’s the biggest accomplishment anyone this side of the Milky Way has ever witnessed. Everyone is stunting…by association. Every new Polo purchased is a pump of hot air into a head already filled up with its owner’s infallible opinion.

As always, you know who I blame: Hip-hop. Don’t get this twisted; I’m a lover of a perfect verse over a tight beat. But, I can’t stand to see men and women who haven’t seen half of life’s ups or downs exclaim that they’ve figured this thing out, and then proceed to tell the rest of us where our faults lie. Biggie told us that as long as we go from negative to positive, it’s all good. He didn’t talk about his diamonds and stretch Lexuses just for the sake of bragging and stunting on other people, but if you had holes in your zapatos you, too, would celebrate the minute you were having dough. Here’s the difference- you notice the man who runs the town hasn’t much time for blogging. He’s busy running businesses and jetting from country to country- he has no time for jogging your memory about how great his birthday party was last night.

I’m writing this because I think we still have a chance. We have the privilege of living in a world where access to information and opportunity can come at the click of a button. That is neither an excuse nor explanation for us to talk more and add more nonsense to the atmosphere. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Twitter caps us at 140 characters, do you? (Of course, someone found a way to Twitlonger.) You’re missing. The point. How about less talk, more using our heads now, huh? How about taking our eyes off of our keypads and putting them back on the #goal? You know, those things we aspired to before anyone even knew how to spell hashtag. Let’s step out of the limelight and stop advertising our accomplishments; instead we can be a person so consumed with and humbled by improving ourselves and others’ lives that people have to beg us for an interview. Let your track record, and not your trackball, do the talking. Then there will be no need to leave the spotlight just to come back and tell everyone you’re still the greatest. No, Hov did that so hopefully we won’t have to go through that.

*the dictionary definition of a "twitter"

Apartment? Check!

The rumors are true. I know, because I started them. Yes folks, after traversing nearly every apartment complex in the greater Hyattsville-College Park-and-Silver Spring area, after run-ins with sketchy landlords and unpleasant leasing agents, after being follow-up called by more property managers than I can count, the search is over. I got my own place!

Now that school and MCAT prep are underway, I'm glad to have some semblance of a routine back, because let me tell you, nothing makes me happier than a day that runs smoothly with a predictable routine. I'm not saying I like things to be uneventful; surely, since I've moved up here my experiences have been anything but typical. But, just like when we were kids, and we were used to changing into our after-school clothes, and having a snack before doing homework, there are certain things I need in my life to make me feel at ease. A major source of comfort for me is having a space to call my own. In this space, I can walk around wearing whatever I do or do not feel like wearing, I can and I will cook at all hours of the night, and finally, I'll be allowed to touch the thermostat. Getting my own place is going to be a huge adjustment, because although I've been home alone many times, I've never alone had my own home. Now, a College Park apartment is far from the home I grew up in, and I'll probably buy the cheap paper towels and save the fancy two-ply stuff for when I visit Weston. I'm still stoked about it, though. I am ending up right back to where this whole leaving-home-for-good journey all started. UMD-College Park will be right across the street, and being in a college town, with access to everything from IKEA to Buffalo Wild Wings all on the same street, is another huge comfort and reassuring element to this move.

I will only be about a 40-minute train ride away from school, too. That may sound like a lot, but considering I've made 40-minute drives to the train, to take a 40-minute Metro trip to school virtually every day since August 23rd, this is a MAJOR improvement. I was hoping to have a Super (Housewarming) Bowl Party, but that might be a little overzealous. For now, I'll settle for a weekend with my dad, who's coming up to help me lug my four suitcases and two trunks worth of clothes into my new spot.

As you can probably tell, I can't help but be excited for this new step. I have a countdown going and everything! I'm taking note of all these baby accomplishments that make me feel very much like a grown woman. Who knows, next time we meet, I may be in my after-school clothes eating a snack...and I'll feel right at home.

One down, three to go.

I must admit, graduate school didn't seem like that daunting of a task when I first applied. I didn't think it would be like going back to third grade or anything, but I underestimated what it takes to excel in a program like this. All of the people I've met this semester have been nothing short of impressive. Very impressive. It's not intimidating per se, but I know I have a lot of hard work to do to keep up.

Nearly six months ago, I got on the B30 bus from BWI airport in Baltimore, hopped onto a train at Greenbelt station and spent an amazing two and a half months at my summer job on the University of Maryland campus. Months later, as an official Maryland resident, I found myself completely and utterly lost driving back and forth past Greenbelt station looking for my hairdresser's salon. Needless to say, I missed my appointment. I've traveled roads and rails in the DMV so often that now, I can find my way to Greenbelt without even using a map. I drove past UMD last night on my way home from DC; feeling nostalgic, I tried to head to the reflecting pool in the center of campus- it was my favorite spot this summer. I forgot, though, that I used to maneuver that campus in a golf cart, and my Altima couldn't whip through posts and over sidewalks quite as easily. I guess when you grow up and move on, coming back "home" isn't always so easy. What once used to be familiar has become the way I used to do things, and new routines have taken the place of "normal."

The independence and confidence I gained during this summer were so important in succeeding on my own here in the DMV. My coworkers went from complete strangers to like-family in no time flat. I was myself and made no apologies or accommodations for the sake of others. During the semester it wasn't as easy to be on my own, no friends or real family around to fall back on. But, I had already become comfortable in my own skin, and soon realized that I didn't need any one to vouch, speak, or explain for me. I was just, Celeste...and, what do you know? I made friends just fine.

Life's happening you guys. I think why I didn't realize that grad school would be so hard is because I've never known any one very personally who went through that experience. So, I just saw it from afar and clapped with the crowd when they got hooded. But it's real, and I'm here. There are so many slogans about making the most of your day and living each like it's your last. To me, we've done a terrible job at that because we assume that means don't sleep, work hard, get rich, and die. What about taking time for phone calls to old and new friends, or saying your prayers every night, or enjoying a cookie and milk? It's simple, and seems petty, but I put as much importance on doing well in grad school as I do in being present in every moment. In six months, when I look back on today that reflection will mean as much to me as it did to drive past UMD yesterday, and being able to tangibly measure just how far I've come.

Deliberate. That's my word for 2011. Forget new year's resolutions- everything I do and every decision I make will be done with deliberate thought and action. That's the only way to make sure I'm experiencing every moment for everything it's worth. It's been real folks- see you next semester. Happy New Year. Make a choice.

Poetry.

I know it's been a while. The end of the semester is upon us and I have been doing my due diligence to do well on finals, but I did have time to finish a poem FINALLY! Such a relief...

Check it out at Down in the District.

Grad school makes me talk to myself

I don't really have anything that interesting to talk about. If you're still reading after that last sentence, I truly appreciate it and I want you to know that I started drinking coffee. Don't get alarmed. It's only a cup or two, here or there, but mostly when I'm in the library. Thus far it's been an iced vanilla latte from Starbucks, iced Coffee of the Day from Starbucks, hot Coffee of the Day from Starbucks, and a hot vanilla coffee from, that's right, you guessed it, Dunkin' Donuts. I don't know if it's just me, but they all tasted exactly the same.

In other news, I also figured out that I am a poet who struggles with words. For those of you who saw me perform (via Internet or live) my first spoken word, you'd think I had even some semblance of skill. But, no. Alas, that was my one-hit wonder, my Tardy for the Party, if you will. And, dammit I am PISSED. I have about three or four poems I've been working on recently and they just won't GO. I keep watching old Def Poetry Jams and realizing how UNlikely it is that I'll ever be on that show (despite the fact that it's canceled, but you know what I'm saying). Whatever, this isn't me fishing for compliments. I'm just typing here. Everyone is either asleep or tweeting. #notinterested Honestly, it's late, I just wrote an essay and I don't have it in me to start studying for another subject at 1:30 in the morning. If I start, I won't want to stop until I'm done. And if I don't get ample sleep, I'm going to be cranky and unfocused tomorrow. Or, maybe I can just drink more coffee.

The Greatest of All Time...of ALL TIME!

During NSLC this summer, my coworkers and I had an interesting conversation in the cafe of the Smithsonian Gallery of Art about what ONE song we could listen any time, any day, any circumstance. To me, that's an unfair question. I probably have about 30 of those. These are the ones that, if I'm having a bad day, will automatically lift my spirits. As soon as the beat drops, it's a 'hands-in-the-air-eyes-closed-singing-at-the-top-of-my-OMG-I'm-driving!' kind of moment.I had to narrow it down somehow, so I picked the 17 songs that I could fit on a standard CD.

In no particular order, Celeste's All-Time Favorite songs (ask me this in 2011, and I may have an entirely different list):

Get Me Bodied, Beyonce Knowles
Apart from the lyrical and musical genius of this track (penned by Solange, and delivered flawlessly by Queen B), Get Me Bodied triggers some of my best college memories. This song was one of the first strolls my line sisters and I did. During our neo-victory-lap semester, our ENTIRE chapter did this stroll at a party and split the crowd right down the middle. Every time I hear this song, it's summer 2007 all over again. And yes, I still do the stroll when I hear it on the radio...driving or not.


Sunday Morning, Maroon 5
"Fingers trace your every outline/paint a picture with my hands/back and forth we sway like branches in a storm/change the weather still together when it ends" For those of you who've never been in love, I would say that this song is one of the best depictions of what it actually feels like. It's a happy, secure feeling- just as upbeat and steady as this track's tempo, and you yearn to be with that person more than anything, even if it's just driving slow around town on a Sunday morning. Also, this song is featured in one of my favorite movies, Something’s Gotta Give. So yeah, absolute winner.

Refuge, John Legend
Ok, honestly- his voice can make the Itsy Bitsy Spider sound like a masterpiece. I would argue that Get Lifted is one of the greatest RnB albums of ALL time...of ALL time (Kanye voice). Depending on the day, any song from that album could make this list. But, more often than not, it’s Refuge.

One Last Cry, Bryan McKnight
Probably one of the best love songs ever. We all know Bryan can sing- this isn't even about that. I have a special connection to this one. Watch my performance on my other blog (celesteaurora.blogspot.com) and you'll get it.


I Am The One, Kurt Carr
We performed this when I was in the choir at Antioch Missionary Baptist Church in Orlando. It reminds me to be grateful for EVERYthing that God has done for me and brought me through. He is a way-maker.

Circle, Marques Houston
I love this song partially because of his physique and the foot move he does in the music video, and partially because of the empathy I have for a situation like this. Been there, and done with that. But, it doesn't hurt to sing about it.

Neither One of Us (Wants to Be The First to Say Goodbye), Gladys Knight and the Pips
It's probably from listening to my parents' 'Solid Gold' collection that got all of the Motown classics ingrained in my mind forever. My dad always quizzed my sister and me when we listened to the oldies "A-whoa! Yuh know is who sing dis? I give yuh a dolla...first person to tell me who sing dis." There are a lot of classics but, this one stands out for me because seriously, who can beat Gladys' voice and the passion she exudes in this song? Not many. Now I want a Midnight Train to Georgia.

Stay With Me, Ne-Yo feat. Peedi Crack
In my humble opinion, Ne-yo has never topped this track. It was his first single and after this one, every song sounds exactly the same! I don't know how he's managed to accomplish that and still sell records but hey, if it ain't broke...Regardless, I love the lyrics of this song and also the way he talks about music as the love of his life. That's something I can definitely relate to.

If, Destiny’s Child
As easy as they make it sound, this is a TOUGH song to sing. How do I know? If my car seats could talk, they'd tell you it's a great thing that I've never performed this in front of actual people. But I sing it, anyway. Wrong and strong.

Made Up My Mind, Lyfe Jennings
“Do they really think they can pull the wool over your eyes Lord?/do they really think that by fakin’ it they can claim that they will get the same reward?” It took a convict and his guitar to get through to me that you have to walk by the word, and not with the world. Sue me. The song is brilliant and heartfelt.

Never Let Me Down, Kanye West feat. Jay-z and J-Ivy
Not only is this one of my all-time favorites, but my absolute favorite track of Kanye's, as well. Yeezy, you may be cocky, but you speak truth. This was back when Kanye was still super excited that he finally became the Louis Vuitton Don, and the enthusiasm and passion for his message is heard when he spits bar after bar after bar on a single breath. Then he gasps for air just to continue the verse. Jigga was great on here too, but J-Ivy probably had the most poignant phrases on this one. "So I guess I’m one of a kind in a full houe, cuz whenever I open my heart my soul or my mouth a touch of God rains out.” What?! Classic.

Tell Him, Lauryn Hill
If you claim to love hip-hop or RnB, and you don't love this album...well, I pretty much will never value your opinion on music ever again. Amidst all the doo-wop'in, rapping, and heavy bass-beating tracks on this album, there are a few gems of just Lauryn's angelic voice softly singing what her heart feels but can’t say. The track is stirring- the first time I heard it, I had chills and replayed it at least 5 times. Tell Him is Lauryn, a drum, a guitar, and a few fleeting appearances of a backup choir. That's it. Her voice twists and turns through the 13th chapter of 1st Corinthians and over her own words to express that above everything else, if she loves the Lord, "everything's gonna be alright." Beauty.

Bartender, T-Pain
Umm, can’t really explain this one. The melody is great. The lyrics, at times, crass. But, I love it anyway. This one was an instant favorite the very first time I heard it. Kinda like love at first sight.

Every Little Bit Hurts, Alicia Keys
I first heard this song when I saw Alicia's mTV Unplugged special. The audience got into it, and she looked like she was having the time of her life. The hoarse crooning that has become signature Alicia is perfect on this song- it's almost as if she's been crying and yelling at her man all day just to find out why he treats her this way. And when Alicia begs to know "why you treat me cold, yet you won't let me go" you feel every little bit that hurts.

Song Cry, Jay-Z
Another mTV Unplugged performance that will remain in my memory. Do you remember it? He just sat there nodding his head to the beat for a while after the lyrics ended. I think it was after seeing that performance when I finally appreciated Jay-Z’s musical talent. Now I’m on the bandwagon with Barack and the rest of ‘em.



I Wrote This Song, Monica
I'm not really a crier...most of the time. However, knowing the story behind this song and hearing how candid Monica gets in her lyrics can certainly bring a tear to my eye...or to my chin. Yeah, so what? The man took his life in front of the love of his life. That's serious stuff. And the song is brutally honest- Monica says it's hard for her to understand, so she wrote him this song. At the root of it, that's what music is all about. It expresses the inexpressible, helps you rationalize confusion. Monica gets two thumbs up for this one.

I Love You, Cheri Dennis
I think it's the bridge that does it to me. This song wasn't as heavily rotated as it should have been (I blame Diddy), but it is a really catchy song. Cheri's voice is sweet and the music is light-hearted. Nothing special, just a well-written, well-sung typical RnB track. Simple, but not simplistic.

Heartburn, Alicia Keys
This song reminds me of Madison, because we went to the Beyonce/Alicia/Missy concert together and Alicia opened her set with this one. We went WILD! It will get even the stiffest, surliest of people tapping their foot and singing along.


Forever, Lil Mo feat. Fabolous
Have you ever been in the room when a bunch of girlfriends start singing this song? Some take the top, the rest do the harmony and background- (usually it's me on the Neptune-sound). And then, when Fabolous' verse comes in, one person, the one who knows all the words, takes lead, and everyone else becomes a hype man at a rap concert- just hittin' the last few words of each line "tan on.....pants on...". It's a hot mess, and it is SO much fun. And besides, what girl doesn't fantasize about her wedding day, or proposal day? At LEAST once we've thought about it. At LEAST! Right? Exactly- classic.


What's on your list? Download some of my favorite tracks here:

Date Night

One of my best friends had a simple wish for my birthday this year. She asked me to do what I want to do, and say what I want to say, and not make any excuses for it. No more over-analyzing, and no more waiting. Just do. So today, I did.

I wanted to see The Social Network and was at home not being nearly as productive as I had originally planned for this 24-hours. My BlackBerry Movies app said I had forty minutes to make the 8:20pm showing at a theater 20 minutes away. After a quick outfit change (since I was still in my sweats), I found myself an aisle seat before the opening credits started.

I was initially nervous/afraid/worried about my personal date night, but it really wasn't intimidating. I didn't have to entertain any small talk, nor try to uncomfortably maneuver over the armrest to cuddle with someone. I was completely at ease and it was nice to do things just the way I like it. Even when I spilled some of my popcorn, I shrugged it off and laughed at my never-ending clumsiness, and kept shoveling handfuls of the buttery goodness in my mouth. I don't think I stopped the hand-to-mouth motion until the bag was completely empty.

The movie was very entertaining, in case you're wondering. But even more importantly, being alone and not feeling lonely was a new and very reassuring feeling. I put on an oldies radio station on my way home, and when Tracks of My Tears came on, I sang along with Smokey and the crew. Since I can't always count on having substitutes, I've decided to enjoy the company of Celeste. She's the permanent one, and that's just fine with me.

The Social Network...can I get one?

I'm supposed to be writing right now. Wait, I meant studying. Clearly, my mind is not where it should be (focused on the four elements of risk assessment). It's been an interesting weekend, to say the least. Wait, stop right there. The most I can do for myself to hold on to my happiness is to stop dwelling on the bad sh*t that happens and get the hell over it. Did you see that? HAPPiness is only half of what HAPPens. The rest, I believe, is how you react to it.
I was really about to write this post about some pretty depressing stuff, but I am alive, and breathing without mechanical assistance. I need to quit complaining. I have a story slash concern on the following topic: meeting women.

The concern:
1. Let's be clear. I am sexually, emotionally, physically, romantically, and everythingelse-ly attracted to men.

But, every day I am realizing more and more, especially in the public health field, men do not rule the world. My issue is: how am I supposed to build a network of lady contacts in the first place? There is a pretty solid group of ambitious and friendly black women at my school, I'd say we're about 15 strong- we go by 'GDubb SistaCircle', so coined by the resident Bison among us. The group pretty much formed through varying degrees of separation, random encounters in class, and introductions of the newbies (like me) to the rest of the crew. It's just like high school- "Did you finish this project yet? No? Me either; meet me in the library. I'm at a table with my friend, you can sit with us." Bam, contact.

So I'm set with a crew for time spent at 23rd and I street. But, what about off-campus? People keep telling me, when I mention that I'm in D.C. for grad school, that I need to build my network and take advantage of all the connections that I can make. Part one, I don't like "taking advantage" of people. I've done it, sure. And people have done it to me, but that doesn't make it right. I know that some people will never make it to true friend status, and will always hold a certain place in my life- the role of 'resource-friend'. Need tickets for a sold out event? Call the resource-friend who works for the sponsoring organization. Can't find the study guide you SWEAR you saved on your external harddrive? BBM the resource-friend who always takes notes and ask her to email them. The list of favors can go on and on. I think it's important to be genuinely concerned with the resource-friend's well-being, and ask them how they're doing (and actually listen attentively to the answer) before you ask them for a quick favor. But again, you have to have some resource-friends in your contacts list before you can use them to your advantage. That's where my problem lies.

The story:
This Friday, the Black medical and law student associations from Georgetown, George Washington, and Howard Universities held a mixer at The Park on 14th. The Black Public Health Student Network, of which I am a member, also made it on to the guest list, so two of my new friends from school and I were absolutely and fashionably in attendance. It was a nice event- quality dj playing music loud enough to hear, but low enough to talk over; delicious crab cakes (and by crab, I mean salmon..but if I said salmon cakes first, you all wouldn't have gotten it, right?); liberally-pouring bartenders, and handsome black men in fly skinny suits. There were a lot of women there, too. No ladies were really giving the stank face to each other like you might expect to see when cliques of black women gather (in separate, but equally judgmental groups) in one place. Everyone was friendly, and actually saying excuse me before trying to squeeze between you and the bar stool to get back to her group of friends. But that was just it- unless we were talking to dudes, or the women we came with, none of the ladies socialized. I guess in a setting like that one, where more winks were exchanged than business cards, it's tough for women to approach each other on a strictly networking/business/resource-friend tip. I've read before that meeting new female friends is just like meeting new dudes. Smile, say hi, and pay a compliment(copyright of that process goes to Belle Woods). In my humble opinion- that's super awkward. I mean, sure, you and your friends look nice and you're here at a professional/student mixer so, I'm assuming we have SOMETHING in common- but to just go up and say hi? No, I'm not ready for the networking world if that's what it takes. What about, gulp, rejection?

I can handle a guy not being interested. I've given a fake name or a mean mug to enough men not to question when karma bites me in the ass and stomps on my ego. The chance I take on saying hi to a good looking gentleman is a risk I don't mind taking. If it plays out well, I may leave with a new number in my phone, or at least entertain a good conversation (because once I say hi, if you have nothing to talk about, I'm walking away). But, when it comes to meeting women (esp black women) for potential resource-friends or even real friends, I have always felt unsure about how to approach and start conversation. Are we supposed to act like homegirls because we're fellow 'sistas'? What if they make a reference to something I can't relate to? They're gonna think I'm a square, when really my inquisitiveness (and sometimes cluelessness) is one of my most endearing traits! I have such a respect for successful black women, I'd act like I would in a room full of Ben Carsons or Kanye Wests. I wouldn't even know what to say or how to act. I'm just in awe and hoping I don't make a fool of myself.

The unrealistic solution:
This is obviously a pretty peculiar predicament. If I wanted to network with women, here's what I would do. I'd invite to my house a bunch of friends who don't know each other, and tell them to bring one female friend. We'd eat a healthy but hearty meal, where the important, educated, and business conversation would take place. Then, we pop 1 (or four) bottles of moscato, champagne or the like, and play a raucous game of Taboo. Business cards will be exchanged, iPhones will be bumped, and Blackberry barcodes will be scanned. The night ends with everyone being handed back their keys, (because my caterer stopped serving alcohol well before people needed to drive home) and people work on fostering the new relationships from there. Some may never speak again, some may become best friends. And, some may enter the resource-friend box. Either way, a night specified for networking goes down, and everyone leaves with at least the potential for a new friend.

So, I guess until I have my own home in which to host this dinner party of a lifetime, it's gonna be awkward moments at a mixer, avoided conversations and neglect of a potential great contact- OR I could get over it and find an appropriate, cool, non-awkward way to say hey to a fellow empowered female.

Any suggestions?