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June 6, 2014June 6, 2014

What a Non-Mom Learned from a Mom’s Group

Right now, I’m wrapping up my last call with Mia Redrick, and I want to get some reflection in as I listen to her advice to our group. The fact that I, the woman who refuses to wake up before 7 and can’t imagine caring for anything that doesn’t walk on four legs, have been learning from Mia, who markets herself as The Mom Strategist, for the last year resulted from a combination of timing and need. After I got fired last year, I was in need of inspiration and direction. A travel industry client turned friend Tawanna of Mom’s Guide to Travel recommended that I have an initial call with Mia to learn about her services after telling me how much Mia’s guidance had helped her.

The first call was like talking to that friend/mentor/auntie who told you exactly what it was with a firmness and warmth. After discussing what I was trying to do for myself and my potential business, I had to mention the most obvious point: I’m not a mom. Knowing the insane amount of time management, patience and planning that women who are both mothers and entrepreneurs need to be successful, I wasn’t sure I was in need of the same guidance. Mia reassured me that her advice and insight applied to all, and that I would find value in the group setting combined with one-on-one conversations.

Value is just the beginning of what I found with Mia. Her straightforward approach and the fact that she could relate to nearly every heartache the group had been through gave us the space to be honest. From the importance of outsourcing, outreach and collaboration to product planning, the fact that I wasn’t a mom didn’t mean much as I gathered nuggets of wisdom. Above all, Mia preached self-care, which was the word that I needed after a year of stressing as a young professional.

I would recommend that anyone who wants to learn about how to run a business without running themselves into the ground reach out to Mia. I’ll miss being able to email her with my inner thoughts (I may still tweet her though) but I’ve gained some friends and contacts through the group that will continue to inspire me as I figure out what I’m doing while knowing it’s okay that I don’t have all the answers.

Thank you also to the ladies in my group:

Tawanna Browne-Smith – Founder of Mom’s Guide to Travel

Rani Robinson-Kiganda – Founder, CEO of Craft Web Solutions

Christine St. Vil – Author of Whose Shoes Are You Wearing, Founder and CEO of Moms In Charge

Rita Roane Blackwell – President, That Wine Girl

Mia Clapp – Clapp Studios (Photography)

Crystal Morgan Marable – Founder, Graceful Girlz

April 8, 2014April 7, 2014

My Vegan Struggle

So…this vegan thing, let’s talk about it.

I’m struggling, y’all. So many delicious foods are made with dairy – ice cream, cookies, ice cream, pizza. My significant other is doing a much better job than me, I must say, which only makes me feel (slightly) worse. With age, I’ve become more aware of the importance of my diet and how it affects my physical health. Since I transitioned to (99.999) vegetarianism, I can say there is a difference in how quickly I can gain muscle tone, even after a junk food/no workout binge, and my skin has significantly fewer hormonal break outs. Thanks to the power of the Internet, I learned about how dairy affects your cholesterol, adding fats to your blood. But I keep coming back to the deliciousness of ice cream, and my soul hurts. Just like I don’t believe in diet cookies or ice cream, these goodies without the dairy just seems blasphemous.

Since it’s all a journey, I’m still working on it. Bryant Terry, who I consider one of the best vegan author/cook in the game, released his new book today. If you’re in the market for a new resource, whether you’re vegan, vegetarian, transitioning or a full-fledged non-apologizing meat-eater, pick up a copy of “Afro-Vegan: Farm-Fresh African, Caribbean, and Southern Flavors Remixed.” I’m going to get a copy for me and my mom (who is kicking butt at veganism and putting us all to shame over here).

Other resources that I love:

“Vegan Soul Food: Fresh, Healthy, and Creative African-American Cuisine” – took this one from my mom, best thing I’ve taken from her aside from this one super-comfy sweater.

Happy Herbivore – great community of vegans, includes an informative website and some fun cook books.

Dallas Vegan – good online resource for local vegans. Check out their Instagram as well for some yummy food shots to get you hungry.

Local restaurants: Cosmic Cafe, Kalachandji’s, Spiral Diner (Two words: tofu scramble. It’ll change your life.)

Do you have any vegan cook book or Dallas-area restaurants recommendations? Leave them in the comments, and I’ll be sure to check them out.

October 13, 2013

Basking in the golden silence

When I’m asked, I always like to say that my family is my sister and my mom. Though I have an extended group of aunts, uncles and cousins, when I consider the mental image of family, it’s those two. Because of this, I am wholly unaccustomed to boisterous weekend gatherings of generations of assorted relatives, reliving the “remember when…” stories and having hours lapse before everyone starts to peel away slowly to do it again the following week. While not a solitary creature, I revel in a quiet household where not much needs to be said because it is understood that our shared time is entertainment and company enough.

Over the years in romantic relationships, I’ve learned that the same approach I take to family togetherness works best for paramours as well. I remember in my youth, being in each other’s pockets seemed like the place to be, and God forbid something happen to one of us while the other wasn’t there to simultaneous experience it. Honestly, I’m shocked I wasn’t more exhausted from sustaining these types of dealings.

With age comes wisdom, as well as your own business, which requires you to mind. As I move within my current relationship, I try to keep in mind that while there is an “us,” more importantly there is a “me” and “he.” I have to allow both of us space to decompress, unwind, unpack and reflect without the nagging feeling of “growing apart” and he does the same.

What I see as somewhat of conventional (romantic and non-romantic) relationship wisdom, many others don’t seem to get, if the anecdotal examples from various advice columns imply. Some of my favorites are Dear Prudence on Slate, Carolyn Hax on Washington Post and A Belle in Brooklyn Ask.fm page. Lack of basic communication practice (ask for what you want, be open to compromise, don’t accept less than you’re worth) seems to be at the root of nearly all exchanges for which people are seeking guidance, be it a relationship between mother-daughter, boss-employee, boyfriend-girlfriend or just two people who are exploring the dating scene. Reading the submissions is one of my guiltiest pleasures; people always find a way to reach new level of “Huh?” with each question.

Mind you, in no way am I saying that my communication style is ideal – I can be short of patience, I want people to get to the point quickly and I hate arguing with those closest to me. What I always try to keep in mind is to listen more than I speak, consider all the perspectives, even the ones that aren’t being presented, and that taking 10 seconds before speaking in anger or irritation can save a whole lot of feelings. The more I operate within these kinds of guidelines, the better my relationships work. And the more of that sweet, sweet silence I get to have in my happy household.

September 7, 2013

The End Is Near

It’s been a long time, shouldn’t have left you without a…well, you know the rest if you’re a hip-hop fan. I’ve had fifty-eleven post ideas run through my head. Really, how couldn’t I be inspired by the cultural appropriation of Miley Cyrus at the MTV VMA Awards, the news about Netflix for Emmy Awards, usually the accolade reserved for television-based entertainment, my recent cable upgrade that gives me access to new movie channels (winning!) and various other topics of interest. So I do apologize to my (few) readers and to myself for the slackery.

Today, the topic is the end. The end of a life-defining journey. The end…of graduate school. This is my last semester, and it has me feeling some kind of way. I’ve formed such good relationships with my classmates, and in the course of our two years of knowing each other we have seen folks get married, have kids and supported each other through tragic events. Already we’ve had some graduations, and though we keep in touch in our Facebook group, it’s not the same as giving knowing looks at each other across FA 414 as we wait for the clock to tick down to 8:49:59 and we can calmly start gathering our books, notes and run toward the door. Okay, it’s not that bad but after nearly three hours, you’re ready to stop listening to words.

I will admit, a part of me is not ready for the idea of not having the kinds of discussions that are the staple of graduate school. It’s the entire reason I have devoted at least one night a week to talking theory, subjectivity and objectivity, 20-page research reports and current trends. When I began college, I thought I was going to be a math major…but then I really looked at the work expected of me and took a left turn. I knew I didn’t want to do English, mostly because I had no desire to read the “classics” and parse them for years to come. Though I came out of school right before the economic crash, I was wise enough to know that an English degree wasn’t going to put a lot of food on the table, whether it was feast or famine season in the economy. My initial reaction to the Intro to Communication class was “Oh, wow, so this is how the sausage is made?” My studies and career in communication has made me more selective of my media and more analytical of what I read and believe in the newspaper.

My final class is a bit of a hodgepodge but it combines all of the topics I love: language, culture and communication. In one class, we talked about accent tag videos (seriously, I can’t stop watching them), neologisms and the power it takes to create a new word, language versus speech, individual versus social functions of language and all the topics that make me go back and read and reread sentences. Although we’re focusing on the language of the States, I’d love to study the patois of the Caribbean Islands, especially considering there is such a diversity of language based on the various countries that colonized the region and the influence of indigenous mother tongue.

This week we get into language and gender, and my reading is from Judith Butler, whose name I remember from undergraduate studies. I’ll let that reading, and the other 80-odd pages be my inspiration for writing. Then, before I know it, it’ll be over.

August 15, 2013

My battle with travel preparedness

I crouched down on the sidewalk, rifling through my suitcase at a rabid pace, considering dumping all my worldly goods in my search. I looked up at the receding bumper driven by my host, then toward the elevator that I should be on, taking me down to the subway and eventually to the airport. I say should because I cannot find my passport and my breathing is coming at a rapid pace as I try to remember where last I had it. I’m the last of the study abroad students that stayed at the flat to leave back to the States, and I have no one to call if I can’t find my documents. By the grace of God, my host mother, as they like to consider themselves, happened to look at the rear view mirror and see my distress. Two days, a flight change and an early morning visit to the mailing company to open a suitcase that was supposed to be shipped back home to rescue my inadvertently packed passport and I was on my way.

You can ask anyone close to me, I can be absentminded to a fault when it comes to travel. In my early 20s, I was the “show up half an hour before departure” kind of traveler, overpacking my suitcase and yet forgetting toothpaste and a scarf to wrap my hair. After the travel abroad incident, along with a forgotten laptop that almost made my sister push me onto the Tube tracks, I knew I had to wizen up or risk some miserable trips. Working in the travel industry put me in contact with people who could pack a carry on in their sleep and make sure the baby had their favorite blanket, toy and food. Since I am not traveling with kids, I had no excuse not to learn quickly from their examples.

It began with figuring out how to pack one bag for several days. This decision was hastened by the increasing cost of checking luggage (seriously though, $25 per bag, highway robbery). The way that airlines are charging nickel and dime fees, soon I’m sure we will be paying for carry on bags too. The CEO of Ryanair thinks so too.

Soon after mastering single bag packing, I conquered the “all liquids in a quart size bag,” “getting to the gate with an hour to spare so you can actually breathe or have a drink,” and finally “ALWAYS take a piece of fruit and mixed nuts with you” because sis, these airlines are not here to provide you with sustenance. In preparing for an upcoming trip too see my sister, I reached a new level of preparedness: outfit planning. Like, proper “On Wednesdays we wear pink” kind of planning. Day outfit, night outfit for each day plus an extra just to be safe. And I managed to get it in my carry on size suitcase. Needless to say, I’m quite proud of myself, much like how those Candy Crush players get when someone gives them new levels.

Oh, and on this trip, my passport is safely in my bag…the one next to me.

August 5, 2013

Missing My (Blogging) Anniversary

On Saturday, it hit me like a sack of bricks….I’ve been blogging for two years and completely missed my anniversary. In my youth, those kinds of milestones – one month, six months, a year – mattered much more because I held my relationships so close. Aging, work and other obligations and general forgetfulness (must pick up that ginkgo biloba) has made it so only birthdays and holidays stand out for me, and I even put my boyfriend’s birthday a month later for the first year of our relationship.

When I first started this blogging thing, I had just begun graduate school. I was all wide eyed and excited about furthering my education. Today, as a “veteran” of research and cranking out papers on a regular basis, I feel like that weathered lone gun who speaks only cryptic sentences around the ever-present toothpick between my teeth as I recline in the back corner of class. I’m only six hours from finishing, so close I can smell the knowledge emanating from the graduation robe and see the free nights and weekends like I was thinking of switching phone carriers.

I would also say that I’ve gotten much more personal over the years. In the last six months alone, I’ve talked about my career diversion, taking on a career coach and my faith. The center of my life has shifted from work to personal fulfillment as I came to realize that earning a paycheck didn’t mean much if you had to grit your teeth to get through the day. I like and need all my back teeth folks. Still working on finding my intersection of “total job satisfaction” and “adequate pay for work” but worrying about the journey won’t get me there any faster.

Anyway, I just had to write through my astonishment that my online journaling has been going on this long, and my excitement in seeing my thoughts, inspiration and maturation in the form of my written thoughts. Thank you for being part of this thing, when you’ve left comments, subscribed or even just perused a few posts. You rock my socks, and I appreciate you. Namaste.

August 4, 2013

Photography Post – Baby Z In the Park

The story of how I got my camera is part funny, part shady. An ex of mine from back to high school brought it with him when he came to see me. After seeing how interested I was in learning how it worked, he told me to hold on to it after he went back to school (in another state mind you). Things went sour, as they do when you’re young, dumb and not exactly sensitive to the needs of others (this was on both sides), and I offered to send the camera back. I’m still not sure if he was being gentlemanly or simply wanted to be rid of me, but he never did send me a FedEx number to use on the return slip. Six or seven year later, the math is fuzzy, I have myself a nice Canon EOS 40D camera, along with a spectacular lens, courtesy of my uber-supportive mother.

I’ve taken a course in the basics of aperture, shutter speed, manual versus automatic mode and ISO, and I can take a decent enough picture when necessary. There are still many topics left to cover, and I need to brush up on what I think I know (thanks Lifehacker!). They say the best way to learn photography is just to go take pictures, and I’ve definitely slacked on that, what with the getting fired and working on on the whole crisis of confidence thing.

Today though, I got a chance to take photos of Baby Z for her upcoming first birthday. Since I keep my private life exactly that, private, I won’t reveal whose stunning child she is. However, if you know me and my circle personally, you’ll know exactly whose child she is because she is a spittin’ image. Thanks to the parents for letting me post this. And I will do my best to post more of my photography, just another step in improving myself.

July 1, 2013

Recognizing Overextension Before It Burns You

Last week I was on it. Sunday had me at the track, sprinting until the only ones left going were me, my BF/trainer and his cousin. During the week, I managed to get in a day of yoga and two days of total body training. Coming up on the weekend, my legs were a bit tight but I was rocking and rolling, no stopping me now! Even though I knew sprint training was coming back around, I decided that a bike ride – only ten miles I told myself – wouldn’t be too bad on a pretty Saturday afternoon. Mind you, pretty is relative; it was near 100 degrees this past Saturday. After I made the loop, admiring the lake and views along the way, I managed to drag myself back home and shower, all the while questioning my own sanity for taking those hills on my novice legs.

Before I knew it, Sunday was there, staring me in the face. Cool breezes stirred across the red clay of the track. I shielded my face with a hand, took a deep breath and prepared to burst into my first sprint – 200 meters. Pace yourself, said the trainer. Just as I go to “turn over” (another track term I’ve come to know) I feel a cramp in my quads. It’s nearly impossible for me to pump my legs, they feel like lead. The remedy given to me was to try some 40 meter sprints, to stretch out the muscle.

First sprint, fine.

Second sprint, an ever so slight but definitely unable to be ignored twinge hobbles me.

And I’m pissed.

Continue reading “Recognizing Overextension Before It Burns You”

June 21, 2013

What I’m Reading – A (Kinda) Regular Feature

I realized today, as I backed up from my local library branch, that I had an adrenaline rush that was likely akin to what shopaholics feel when they leave the mall. Slightly flushed and smiling to myself, I looked over at the short stack of books I checked out and imagined the perfect silence in which I wanted to read them, curled up on the couch with the sunlight spilling through the living room window behind me. Ever since I finally figured out how to use the online request system for Dallas Public Library, I’ve been tagging books and eagerly awaiting their arrival at the nearby branch.

Much like a overly enthusiastic shopper, I also like to share my finds with the world. As an effort to share with the audience outside of my Instagram and Twitter followers, I’m going to begin posting photos of my loaned treasures on here.

I’d love to hear what you’re reading as well, since word-of-mouth is often how I discover new writers. Well, word-of-mouth and my sister who truly will one day bury herself, Hoarders-style, in her living room with the amount of books she has.

May 27, 2013

Why I Need to Live Like a Rap Star

How I carry my thug (via vermegrigio on Flickr)

I fully admit to being inordinately amused by the exploits of most rappers, especially in the antics and lifestyle outlined in their lyrics. I figure if an artist is truly about their business, they’re likely are not doing all of the extra activities they list. There are only so many hours in the day.

So, in the spirit of my ratchet music appreciation, and thinking of the conversation I had with one of my coaches, Dawn, I’ve decided that incorporating some aspects of the rapper lifestyle may not be a bad thing.

Fake It Until You Make It

Going back to my earlier statement, rappers are some of the bombastic creative people in the nation. A local star who still lives at home with his mother, works the stock room at Best Buy and records in his third cousin’s basement will have you believe he was just signed to the most well-known label with a million-dollar advance and has the hottest chick the game on his arm at all times. To use an overused term, it’s “swag.” Applying this to me, I have to be more prepared to talk about my ambitions for freelance work. No one wants to hear the hem and haw of tentatively describing aspirations for excellence. Claim it, declare it, own it. Rappers have this spirit in spades, even the ones who record in their closets. Why not adopt that in your business?

Roll With a Supportive Crew

What performer do you know that goes on stage with less than one hype man? I’ll wait…Exactly. Having a passel means rappers are never alone, bored, hungry and without entertainment. And they always have a fall guy, who doesn’t want that! For my needs, my crew consists of my sorority sisters, family, my career coaches, former supervisors and various social media accounts for inspiration, laughs and thought-provoking commentary. Since I tend to avoid any kind of legal snafus, I never have to ask any of them to take the rap for me, which I’m sure they appreciate. Instead, this assorted group provides me with feedback and guidance, as well as accountability to do even better than I think I can.

Make An Investment

As Jay-Z said years ago in a line that epitomizes the rap life mentality, “Money ain’t a thang.” Cars, jewelry, houses – but I mean, who really looks at the price tag (thanks for that one, Nicki Minaj). Since it’s all about appearances, and I don’t have to impress the masses, my investments are a bit different. For example, one of the first things I did upon realizing that I have to build my brand outside of any company affiliation was purchase business cards and rent a P.O. box. Though my initial reaction was “Why am I spending money when I don’t have any coming in?” I knew it was the right thing to do to show that I was serious about my aspirations. Now when I go to networking events, I have my own card to hand out. And should I need to receive payments or contracts, I can have them sent to a location that is independent of my home address. As I go even further down the road of independent ownership of my work, I know additional investments will be necessary, though likely not dipped in gold like a Jesus piece. Mentally, this is part of the process for which I have to prepare myself (and my bank account). Thankfully, my momma didn’t raise a fool when it comes to saving and spending wisely.

So, that’s how I plan to adopt a limited scope of the rap star lifestyle. How are you embracing your inner rock and roll star: what would you add to this list?

Also, just for fun: my 90s rap name is Smoove V Tha Magnificent Thief. I will take that, expect T-shirts soon!