So I missed my exit on the way home from the Wheaton Metro stop today. I've made the drive at least 6 times now, so I'll chalk it up to my self-diagnosed Attention Deficit Disorder, rather than STILL not having my bearings in my new town. However, the mishap (and lengthy drive) did allow me the opportunity to ponder my 'Before I Get To Medical School Bucket List. It's still a work in progress, but this is as complete as it's been thus far. So, here goes:
- Figure out how I like my eggs
Now, I love omelettes as much as the next girl. And, if I do say so myself, I make a pretty mean omelette when I have time and a non-stick pan on my side. I usually take mine with onions, tomato, A LITTLE bit of cheddar cheese, ham, bacon, green and banana peppers. But, every time I watch Runaway Bride and watch Julia Roberts in that scene with all the different kinds of eggs on the counter, trying to figure out who she really is and how she likes her eggs, I get a little jealous. I don't even know what eggs benedict tastes like. So, before I can truly claim omelettes as my absolute fave, I need to try them all first.
-Get home from downtown D.C. without using my GPS
This one needs very little explanation.
-Skydive
-Learn how to
cook Oxtail, Brown Stew Chicken, Ackee and Saltfish, and Jerk Chicken...well
This is partially me wanting to be able to enjoy some quality Jamaican food without buying it or waiting for my family to cook for me. And the other part is that I will have to ask for help from my family members to learn all these recipes, so it will encourage me to spend a little more time with the folks. This one's a win-win.
- Get thick.
This is actually something I WON'T do, if Mother Nature obliges. Now, this is nothing against my above size-six-wearing sisters in the world. We weren't all bodacious-ly blessed, and I must say, I have always been made fun of for my butt- (or lack thereof). You all probably never faced those jokes, and happily did 'the thick girl' when the song came on at parties. But, I would like to maintain my figure as long as humanly possible because I have been accustomed to being this size for the past 22 years and I like what I see when I look in the mirror. So I guess no matter what size I get to, as long as I can say that, I have accomplished my goal. Skinny black girls, this one's for you!
- Perform in D.C. at Busboys and Poets
This is a continuation of my last bucket list's goal, to perform at an open mic night. There are too many opportunities for a budding spoken word artist not to get a little taste of the bright lights and tiny stage. Let's hope last time wasn't just beginner's luck.
- Volunteer at least once a month
There are way too emails flooding my inbox with ways I can get involved for me to ignore. I participated in an Obesity Awareness Month event last Friday at the Children's Hospital, so I'm already off to a great start.
- Go to a Yeezy concert
Now, anyone who knows anything about me knows that I absolutely love and fully and completely support Kanye West. Mic-grabbing and all. Anyways, I have seen my fair share of the Queen B and Mr. Legend (the two other musicians I adore) on the stage, and it is time for me to truly earn my position as Kanye's biggest fan/play-wife and see him in concert. Twice I have been thwarted by a "friend" of mine (I hope you're reading this) who stood me up in buying tickets for the concert (both the Late Registration and Graduation tours). Then, he slipped in conversation a couple days after the concerts that "Oh yeah, I was there. He was great." Twice! My fault. But, I will go solo dolo if necessary. Nothing is stopping me this time.
- Go to Europe
Whether it's study abroad, a random trip with friends or a secret spy mission for the Secret Service, I need to get there. I feel like I'm missing out on a lot by not having been across the pond. I'll try and save Italy for my honeymoon like I've always planned but hey, if the pizza's calling my name, I can't make any promises.
- Go to Africa
'nough said. I need to go.
- Get Mrs. Obama to invite me to dinner at the White House/sit next to Sasha O. at the dinner table
You all may think this is a lofty goal, but I believe that if I do what I'm supposed to do in grad school and truly make an impact here in D.C., I'll be a shoe-in.
I think that's it for now, folks. I will add more to the list as I think of them. Hopefully putting all of this out in the open will hold me accountable. I have some more that are a little more personal goals, and I have written those down, too. Have any of you started working on a bucket list?
**If you're a TRUE fan of The Game, you'll remember this quote. Are we excited for its return, or what?
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
I talk to Myself, cuz at least she's always there.
One ring, two rings
Screened. So what?
I go down the list of contacts and decide to put the phone up
Far, in a purse. Way upstairs.
Just gonna "charge" it for a while- but then I avoid going back up there.
And as I watch TV I'll mute it- was that...did I just hear?
Knowing damn well that's not my ringtone- you know Weezy's voice ain't that clear!
Are you alone or feeling lonely? Didn't you choose to move this far?
You came to this new state with just your luggage and a car.
Not a friend or foe familiar; yes, even enemies would suffice
At least it's a taste of home, but every day you roll the dice:
Do I turn on the GPS, or try to find my way?
If I get lost is it a test, or a signal that I'm not ok?
Part of you wants to go home. That's why you call there all the time.
But when they return the call, you hit ignore. You don't want them to know your mind
Is not at ease. You're not at peace, but maybe tomorrow the mishaps will cease.
A bigger part of you talks to Jesus, "Lord, just be a friend."
"Be a jumper cable, be a church home, Lord, please be a refund check."
God, I'm asking you for guidance, be a traffic report on FM stations
Be a good meal, a fresh haircut
and Lord, please PLEASE give me some patience.
Cuz I know right now, though trying, will seem a distant memory one day
And things can't always be easy, so I'll try to look at things this way:
If I was not supposed to be here, this place would not exist
But here I stand on my two feet, breathing the code red air of the District
I wake up each day, renewed, say a prayer, "Is this the one?"
But I know it won't be suddenly. I'll find my place one day soon come.
Screened. So what?
I go down the list of contacts and decide to put the phone up
Far, in a purse. Way upstairs.
Just gonna "charge" it for a while- but then I avoid going back up there.
And as I watch TV I'll mute it- was that...did I just hear?
Knowing damn well that's not my ringtone- you know Weezy's voice ain't that clear!
Are you alone or feeling lonely? Didn't you choose to move this far?
You came to this new state with just your luggage and a car.
Not a friend or foe familiar; yes, even enemies would suffice
At least it's a taste of home, but every day you roll the dice:
Do I turn on the GPS, or try to find my way?
If I get lost is it a test, or a signal that I'm not ok?
Part of you wants to go home. That's why you call there all the time.
But when they return the call, you hit ignore. You don't want them to know your mind
Is not at ease. You're not at peace, but maybe tomorrow the mishaps will cease.
A bigger part of you talks to Jesus, "Lord, just be a friend."
"Be a jumper cable, be a church home, Lord, please be a refund check."
God, I'm asking you for guidance, be a traffic report on FM stations
Be a good meal, a fresh haircut
and Lord, please PLEASE give me some patience.
Cuz I know right now, though trying, will seem a distant memory one day
And things can't always be easy, so I'll try to look at things this way:
If I was not supposed to be here, this place would not exist
But here I stand on my two feet, breathing the code red air of the District
I wake up each day, renewed, say a prayer, "Is this the one?"
But I know it won't be suddenly. I'll find my place one day soon come.
Monday, August 30, 2010
www.nevertrustawebsite.com/baptistblunders
Sunday. A day for rest, reflection, and reverence. Or in my case, getting Punk'd. I've always wanted to be on that show- forget the fact that I'm not famous or friends with Ashton Kutcher- but never thought that I'd actually manage to punk myself. I haven't been to church all summer, and so I figured it was time to get back in the groove. I Google'd a bunch of churches throughout the week, and the only one I found with a Young Adult ministry ended up being the winner. I left the house on time, and Jeeves said I'd make it there with ten minutes to spare. Perfect- I didn't want to do the walk of shame, escorted by an usher to the front of the church because I'm late, on my first day. I made the 40 minute drive to Baltimore, and even though I got a little worried as I drove through the church's neighborhood, I saw plenty of cars parked on the street and said a little prayer that Sparkle would still be there (and not sitting on bricks) when I got back from service.
I walked into church wearing a knee-length dress, pearls, pumps, and Bible-less (I left mine in my old car when I moved). Things seemed a little off when I walked into the foyer; the doors to the sanctuary were closed, but there was only one other person standing there with me. I heard the congregation praying in unison, so I figured I was missing the responsive reading. Weird. It's kinda early for that part of the service, I thought. But hey, different strokes for different folks. I walked up to the deeply stained wood double-doors, and a tall, broad shouldered gentleman in a black suit opened it for me- I guess he was an usher but, he didn't seem to be concerned that I couldn't find a seat. Besides me and Big n Tall, no one else in my view was dressed in their Sunday best. I saw jeans, long peasant skirts, polos, t-shirts, sandals. What's going on here? OK, Ce. You're overdressed, but that's fine.I felt only moderately self-conscious. And still, no one was helping me find a seat!
I took a deep breath, and walked awkwardly down the left-most aisle, trying to stay inconspicuous. I circled pillars and side-stepped my way to the front, faking confidence and poise the whole time. I did that mime motion/church whisper ::eye contact...point:: "Is that seat taken?" to any one who would acknowledge my presence. I barely made eye contact with any one, and those who did see me quickly nodded and turned their attention toward the pulpit. The pastor, who I recognized from his picture on the website, was commending the Youth Choir for a job well-done in the service. Hmm, did I miss their opening number? It's only 11:30 and service started at 11am...that's weird.
Finally, someone with a nametag approached me. I again mouthed, "Can I sit there?" and directed her attention to an open seat in the second pew. She leaned in closer to hear me, but I thought she was trying to give me a welcome hug. I put my arm on her back and then, as she slyly pulled away, I rushed through my pre-planned "Good morning" and asked where I could sit. She just nodded and smiled. So, you didn't hear me? OK, cool. I heard the pastor say "let's look unto the Lord" so I bowed my head, closed my eyes, and then got REALLY confused. Am I hearing properly? Why was he doing to altar call at the beginning of the service? Isn't that usually reserved as the climax of the entire production? Praise and worship, a moving sermon, then an invitation to give your life to Christ, and/or to make this your church home. I'm new to the Baptist faith but, that's the way it goes, right? No new members were added to the kingdom or to the church family that morning, and I had no more time to go over the order of events. I resumed the seat-finding mission. Three more rejections, and I found a woman who was willing to move her suitcase-purse so I could sit down. I put down my keys and cellphone, and readied myself for the sermon, which I was sure would be coming soon.
"Now, it's time to worship through giving", the pastor said. OK, sweet, I brought offering today. I looked in the program I snagged earlier when Big n Tall let me in, and scanned for the order of events. Worship through Giving was immediately followed by Benediction. HUH?! I only had seconds to ponder this when my pew was ushered to the front of the church by a Cicely Tyson-sized woman in an all white skirt suit. I dropped my money into the basket, and scurried back to my seat trying to look like I knew exactly what I was doing. All of the elders at the front greeted me like I was a long-time member, and as welcome as I felt, I still had an inkling that the entire congregation knew something I didn't. It was like they were all waiting on the cue to jump up and start spraying me with silly string yelling "Got ya!", and then they'd high-five each other while I sat there confused and covered in gooey pink string. I checked the program again. No way I read that right. The benediction was next? Oh, but I did read correctly. Under 'This Week's Announcements', there it was "Next Sunday, we will return to 8:30am and 11:00am services." I flipped to the front of the program "August 29, 2010 9:30am Service." No. Way.
The pastor affirmed my hypothesis when offering was over: "Now church, you know we been spoiled this summer! Through most of July and all of August, we've had the luxury of these 9:30am services. But I know we will all, amen, be back in full swing next week when we resume two services each Sunday, amen. God-willing, I will be here leading both services; we got alotta great things planned for the rest of the year... " I missed most of the other announcements. Something about the Men's ministry first Friday get together, and a bake sale by the youth immediately following the service. So, I missed it. This is unbelievable! I drove forty minutes, got lost, found parking in the shiftiest of neighborhoods, and I totally missed church. But, humming "he reigns forever, he reigns forever, and eveerrrr mooorrrre", I got up and bowed my head again as instructed, ready for the benediction.
It's hard to justify being frustrated walking out of a church. I just shook the devil off, and kept it moving. I had errands to run anyway, and at least I got my blessing for the week. Another wacko adventure that only a rookie could accomplish. Greater Gethsemane, I'll be back next Sunday.
I walked into church wearing a knee-length dress, pearls, pumps, and Bible-less (I left mine in my old car when I moved). Things seemed a little off when I walked into the foyer; the doors to the sanctuary were closed, but there was only one other person standing there with me. I heard the congregation praying in unison, so I figured I was missing the responsive reading. Weird. It's kinda early for that part of the service, I thought. But hey, different strokes for different folks. I walked up to the deeply stained wood double-doors, and a tall, broad shouldered gentleman in a black suit opened it for me- I guess he was an usher but, he didn't seem to be concerned that I couldn't find a seat. Besides me and Big n Tall, no one else in my view was dressed in their Sunday best. I saw jeans, long peasant skirts, polos, t-shirts, sandals. What's going on here? OK, Ce. You're overdressed, but that's fine.I felt only moderately self-conscious. And still, no one was helping me find a seat!
I took a deep breath, and walked awkwardly down the left-most aisle, trying to stay inconspicuous. I circled pillars and side-stepped my way to the front, faking confidence and poise the whole time. I did that mime motion/church whisper ::eye contact...point:: "Is that seat taken?" to any one who would acknowledge my presence. I barely made eye contact with any one, and those who did see me quickly nodded and turned their attention toward the pulpit. The pastor, who I recognized from his picture on the website, was commending the Youth Choir for a job well-done in the service. Hmm, did I miss their opening number? It's only 11:30 and service started at 11am...that's weird.
Finally, someone with a nametag approached me. I again mouthed, "Can I sit there?" and directed her attention to an open seat in the second pew. She leaned in closer to hear me, but I thought she was trying to give me a welcome hug. I put my arm on her back and then, as she slyly pulled away, I rushed through my pre-planned "Good morning" and asked where I could sit. She just nodded and smiled. So, you didn't hear me? OK, cool. I heard the pastor say "let's look unto the Lord" so I bowed my head, closed my eyes, and then got REALLY confused. Am I hearing properly? Why was he doing to altar call at the beginning of the service? Isn't that usually reserved as the climax of the entire production? Praise and worship, a moving sermon, then an invitation to give your life to Christ, and/or to make this your church home. I'm new to the Baptist faith but, that's the way it goes, right? No new members were added to the kingdom or to the church family that morning, and I had no more time to go over the order of events. I resumed the seat-finding mission. Three more rejections, and I found a woman who was willing to move her suitcase-purse so I could sit down. I put down my keys and cellphone, and readied myself for the sermon, which I was sure would be coming soon.
"Now, it's time to worship through giving", the pastor said. OK, sweet, I brought offering today. I looked in the program I snagged earlier when Big n Tall let me in, and scanned for the order of events. Worship through Giving was immediately followed by Benediction. HUH?! I only had seconds to ponder this when my pew was ushered to the front of the church by a Cicely Tyson-sized woman in an all white skirt suit. I dropped my money into the basket, and scurried back to my seat trying to look like I knew exactly what I was doing. All of the elders at the front greeted me like I was a long-time member, and as welcome as I felt, I still had an inkling that the entire congregation knew something I didn't. It was like they were all waiting on the cue to jump up and start spraying me with silly string yelling "Got ya!", and then they'd high-five each other while I sat there confused and covered in gooey pink string. I checked the program again. No way I read that right. The benediction was next? Oh, but I did read correctly. Under 'This Week's Announcements', there it was "Next Sunday, we will return to 8:30am and 11:00am services." I flipped to the front of the program "August 29, 2010 9:30am Service." No. Way.
The pastor affirmed my hypothesis when offering was over: "Now church, you know we been spoiled this summer! Through most of July and all of August, we've had the luxury of these 9:30am services. But I know we will all, amen, be back in full swing next week when we resume two services each Sunday, amen. God-willing, I will be here leading both services; we got alotta great things planned for the rest of the year... " I missed most of the other announcements. Something about the Men's ministry first Friday get together, and a bake sale by the youth immediately following the service. So, I missed it. This is unbelievable! I drove forty minutes, got lost, found parking in the shiftiest of neighborhoods, and I totally missed church. But, humming "he reigns forever, he reigns forever, and eveerrrr mooorrrre", I got up and bowed my head again as instructed, ready for the benediction.
It's hard to justify being frustrated walking out of a church. I just shook the devil off, and kept it moving. I had errands to run anyway, and at least I got my blessing for the week. Another wacko adventure that only a rookie could accomplish. Greater Gethsemane, I'll be back next Sunday.
Friday, August 27, 2010
I Hit A Dumpster Today
Let me first make this disclaimer: Dad, if you're reading this, the story is ENTIRELY hypothetical.
Thursday started out wonderfully. After two months of hair disaster this summer, I finally left a hair salon smiling. Shortly after, when I got my eyebrows done, I looked like the *Big Smile* face on BlackBerry Messenger. So, feeling quite jazzy and confident, as sporting a fresh hair-do and a pretty dress usually makes me feel, I journeyed down to school for a Grad Life fair, a welcome from President Steven Knapp, and of course, free barbecue. I won't even pretend to claim that I am learning my way around the District. Just when I think I can predict my next move without prompting, Jeeves (my GPS) starts interrupting my radio: "Off-route. Recalculating. Recalculating. When possible, make a U-turn". Next thing I know, I'm at some other school with 'George' in its name, and a security guard is telling me to either show ID or leave the property.
Eventually, I did find a parking space, and popped into the grad life fair for some free pens and a wealth of suggestions on how to get involved. This was one of my primary goals that day, besides networking, so I felt like my 45 minute trek to campus was well worth it. The welcome from the President, and pinning ceremony for new graduate students, was a great way to begin my school year. I was nervous about being a new student, and I desperately want to feel like "one of them". But, it was stressed by everyone who addressed us that we are now and will forever be George Washington Colonials. I went over to the President and President-elect of the GW Alumni association to introduce myself and let them know how eager I am to become involved. Networking? Check!
Successful day! I thought to myself...after a plate of free food, I dipped out early to attend an "open house". I pulled up to the rowhouses somewhere in Northeast D.C., and saw a lady sitting on the stoop looking quite dejected and unbearably bored. As I walked up the steps, which were covered with leaves and dirt, I focused hard keeping a straight face, even though I wanted to scrunch it up in disgust. Was this guy serious? You actually put this place up for rent? You didn't even sweep the walkway, sir! Oh, but he was serious, and his proxy was there to assure me that the place could be ready for move in Labor Day weekend, if desired. Dude, there are paint cans in the bedroom. The paper blinds you pasted to the wall are falling off the wall. I'll pass.
I finally got out of there and decided after a long day, it was time to head back to the patch of Maryland I (temporarily) call home. The last stop was for gas. I realized early on that driving on the highway in the DMV is a lot different than south Florida. There are mostly trees and corn fields everywhere, so I couldn't even rely on getting gas at "the next exit." I may likely be pushing the car to the pump. Jeeves was yelling at me to make a u-turn, and proceed to the highlighted route but there was a sign for $2.59 on my left, and I had to make a few illegal turns so as not to miss my unleaded calling. I maneuvered Sparkle into the gas station. OK, Ce. Whip it around, gas tank's on the left. Reverse. Keep going, a little closer, back it up again and- BAM! My heart sunk as I looked up into the rearview mirror and saw the dark green dumpster staring back at me. Dammit. I pulled forward, and heard the metal bumper pop back into place. I practically ran to the rear of the car as if I was on the way to save a life, and searched frantically for the dent or smear on the bumper. Nothing! Praise His name. OK, so time to gas up. I pushed the gas tank lever, whipped out the debit card and....where's the card thingy? NO CREDIT CARDS ACCEPTED.
Really Washington?! Needless to say, I angrily closed the gas tank and sped off way over speed limit to find another gas station before I hit the highway. I finally found a BP, (they have better gas than the last place ANYway, I reassured myself), and got Sparkle some juice. I tried to stay mad, but the 5 o'clock RoadBlock mix on 92Q was playing the hits, and I couldn't help but laugh at my unfortunate circumstances of the day. So maybe I didn't find the perfect apartment, and maybe I haven't yet learned my way around the new city. But, my hair's fly, my car isn't dented, and I had a delicious free hotdog on Kogan Plaza while talking to a new friend. Life is good. And I won't complain.
Thursday started out wonderfully. After two months of hair disaster this summer, I finally left a hair salon smiling. Shortly after, when I got my eyebrows done, I looked like the *Big Smile* face on BlackBerry Messenger. So, feeling quite jazzy and confident, as sporting a fresh hair-do and a pretty dress usually makes me feel, I journeyed down to school for a Grad Life fair, a welcome from President Steven Knapp, and of course, free barbecue. I won't even pretend to claim that I am learning my way around the District. Just when I think I can predict my next move without prompting, Jeeves (my GPS) starts interrupting my radio: "Off-route. Recalculating. Recalculating. When possible, make a U-turn". Next thing I know, I'm at some other school with 'George' in its name, and a security guard is telling me to either show ID or leave the property.
Eventually, I did find a parking space, and popped into the grad life fair for some free pens and a wealth of suggestions on how to get involved. This was one of my primary goals that day, besides networking, so I felt like my 45 minute trek to campus was well worth it. The welcome from the President, and pinning ceremony for new graduate students, was a great way to begin my school year. I was nervous about being a new student, and I desperately want to feel like "one of them". But, it was stressed by everyone who addressed us that we are now and will forever be George Washington Colonials. I went over to the President and President-elect of the GW Alumni association to introduce myself and let them know how eager I am to become involved. Networking? Check!
Successful day! I thought to myself...after a plate of free food, I dipped out early to attend an "open house". I pulled up to the rowhouses somewhere in Northeast D.C., and saw a lady sitting on the stoop looking quite dejected and unbearably bored. As I walked up the steps, which were covered with leaves and dirt, I focused hard keeping a straight face, even though I wanted to scrunch it up in disgust. Was this guy serious? You actually put this place up for rent? You didn't even sweep the walkway, sir! Oh, but he was serious, and his proxy was there to assure me that the place could be ready for move in Labor Day weekend, if desired. Dude, there are paint cans in the bedroom. The paper blinds you pasted to the wall are falling off the wall. I'll pass.
I finally got out of there and decided after a long day, it was time to head back to the patch of Maryland I (temporarily) call home. The last stop was for gas. I realized early on that driving on the highway in the DMV is a lot different than south Florida. There are mostly trees and corn fields everywhere, so I couldn't even rely on getting gas at "the next exit." I may likely be pushing the car to the pump. Jeeves was yelling at me to make a u-turn, and proceed to the highlighted route but there was a sign for $2.59 on my left, and I had to make a few illegal turns so as not to miss my unleaded calling. I maneuvered Sparkle into the gas station. OK, Ce. Whip it around, gas tank's on the left. Reverse. Keep going, a little closer, back it up again and- BAM! My heart sunk as I looked up into the rearview mirror and saw the dark green dumpster staring back at me. Dammit. I pulled forward, and heard the metal bumper pop back into place. I practically ran to the rear of the car as if I was on the way to save a life, and searched frantically for the dent or smear on the bumper. Nothing! Praise His name. OK, so time to gas up. I pushed the gas tank lever, whipped out the debit card and....where's the card thingy? NO CREDIT CARDS ACCEPTED.
Really Washington?! Needless to say, I angrily closed the gas tank and sped off way over speed limit to find another gas station before I hit the highway. I finally found a BP, (they have better gas than the last place ANYway, I reassured myself), and got Sparkle some juice. I tried to stay mad, but the 5 o'clock RoadBlock mix on 92Q was playing the hits, and I couldn't help but laugh at my unfortunate circumstances of the day. So maybe I didn't find the perfect apartment, and maybe I haven't yet learned my way around the new city. But, my hair's fly, my car isn't dented, and I had a delicious free hotdog on Kogan Plaza while talking to a new friend. Life is good. And I won't complain.
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