journeys Archives - Page 5 of 6 - Veleisa Patton Burrell

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 24, 2013

The Power of Asking for Help

One of the most powerful messages I got last week was from KERA’s Think program. The exchange begins around minute 39 of this podcast, when guest Ben Hewitt said:

I hear a lot from people, what can I do to strengthen community in my area. One of the things that I think is really profoundly effective is to ask somebody for help. And the reason it’s so effective, I want you to think about the last time you offered help to somebody and what they probably said, which I’m guessing was ‘Oh no, I’m all set, thank you very much.’ I also want you to think about the last time somebody came to you and asked you for help, and how it made you feel. Which I’m guessing was pretty good.

Hewitt continued, saying that on an innately human level, we have a need to be needed. As I listened, all I could do was nod to myself because I’ve seen the effect that asking for help and offering help can have on a relationship. When I realized that it was time for me to make a change, I knew I would have to tap my network. The thought of asking for assistance set my teeth on edge; it felt like I was essentially going forth naked and begging in the world, without a cloak for shielding my need.

I took it slow, sending a message to a longtime friend and sometime collaborator. As I hit send, I said a silent prayer that he wouldn’t recoil from the screen and feel insulted by my request (which was, in hindsight, truly very simple). Almost immediately, my message received a reply of support and agreement to assist where possible. Now, I’m not a huge crier, but the sense of relief was so strong that I let out a few watery drops.

Since that moment, I’ve made other requests from business associates and college friends alike, and I’ve never run into anyone who isn’t flattered and ready to offer help where they can. Instead of feeling putting upon, which is the reaction I expected initially, people were eager to assist, whether through an email introduction, recommendation and reference or just feedback to make sure I wasn’t going into left field with my ideas. As these favors have grown, I’ve made an effort to balance my requests with offers of assistance. Ben Hewitt is right, it is a pretty good feeling to help.

Oh, and since I talked book recommendations in my last post, Ben Hewitt is the author of Saved: How I quit worrying about money and became the richest guy in the world. It is most definitely on the must-read list!

Comment time: do you find yourself asking for help? If not, what holds you back? How does helping others make you feel?

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!

May 12, 2013

A Skeptic Builds an Inspiration Board

As part of my continued practice of bringing positivity into my life by exhibiting positive attitudes, I began working with personal coach Mia Redrick. I’m not a mother in need of finding balance between home and work life, which is one of Mia’s areas of expertise, but the recommendations for her business coaching from associates said it wouldn’t matter. So, stepping out on faith on this one. The first group call demonstrated that there is a variety of women who are looking for the same thing I’m seeking, which reassured me. However, as we wrapped up the call, Mia gave us the first assignments: a vision board.

*insert record scratch*

Let it be stated that until this point in my life, I’ve never believed in vision boards. I believe in positivity, I believe in prayer and I believe in writing down your goals/objectives/wishes. It just went beyond my limitations that poster board, glue stick, images and some aspirational phrases would get me any closer to what I want in life. It’s all too Oprah-Real Simple magazine for me. Also, please remember I’m from Southwest Houston, we didn’t do things like make vision boards.

After much harumphing and sighing, my sense of “why not” (and also my knowledge that this was part of a process of self-betterment that I’m paying for) overrode my long-held stance. I made my way to Target and got a nice black poster, started ripping through old issues of Inc., Forbes, Lucky and Women’s Health Magazine and next I’ll break out the glue stick to start organizing my thoughts into the most spectacular vision board ever made. I’ll make a note to share the final version on here.

What are your thoughts on vision boards? Do you think they were part of your success plan? Even better, share yours with me if you’ve done one before.

April 8, 2013

My Life: A Change Done Came

I am a private person. I like being a private person. After learning through trial by fire that if you want something to remain your secret, you tell no one, I curated a small group of confidants. Even within that group, I’m private. So this post is kind of a big deal for me. I was inspired to share this after my mom and I sat down to Easter/birthday brunch last week and she told me in her sage, Yoda-like way, “You have a gift with words, and you need to share it. You don’t know how your story will affect others.”

So here it goes: my transition that I’ve alluded to in previous posts is that I’m between jobs.

Even typing that makes me cringe. Ever since I could legally hold a job, I’ve worked. It’s part of my identity, connected to my self-given purpose. I remember clearly going to pick up my checks – yes, that paper slip that conferred moneys before the ubiquitous direct deposit most of us use now – and how it felt to have funds to put gas in my tank and get me some grub on the go. Ahh, the days of simpler needs.

Now, to be without a place between 9 and 5 is a supremely foreign feeling. This is not to say I’m not doing anything. I’d been preparing for a change for a while, feeling that God was leading me elsewhere. I stayed prayerful, started making contacts and thought about my purpose and passion. I had quite the reality check from my inner circle when I began to stress about bills and if I could buy my first house this year. The statement affected me deeply, and it’s become my thinking: You are a child of the Most High, why do you have so little faith of the great things He has prepared for you?

The past month restored me. I didn’t realize how much I was internalizing my stress, thereby blocking my creativity and personal drive for success. I’ve been reading for my own enjoyment again. I have a growing wish list of inspirational books on Amazon and the fact that spring is coming doesn’t hurt. As an April baby, and after experiencing a true winter once I moved to north Texas, spring has a magic. The dry and cracked branches suddenly burst forth with white, pink and yellow blooms, the temperatures produce a warming effect that has everyone walking a bit lighter and all the bleakness of the previous season is left behind to nourish the harvest of the next.

It feels like I’m in my spring, blossoming and growing. I’d love to hear about your season of transition, share with me!

April 6, 2013

So, Is This Marriage Thing Contagious?

“Just stop…I don’t even want to talk about it.”

We’re sitting at happy hour, all of us young, educated…and unmarried. The topic that has upset my friend is the running list of college friends who have either married, reproduced or both. I merely took a sip of my drink and laughed. Even though I’ve been engaged before, it was more of a formality than a true belief in “happily ever after” and the relationship didn’t pan out. I’m not in a rush, though I know myself well enough to know that marriage is a requirement of any future relationship.

It’s the 27th birthday of one of my sorority sisters, and clearly she’s having a hard time of it. Actually, not really. She, like me, has a sarcastic wit that belies a tender underbelly, and it’s not often she truly shows her emotional undercarriage. She does make a good point though. The wedding and ultrasound posts being shared in our group of friends and associates has reached the critical mass point, and the claustrophobic, though mostly imagined, feeling of judgment is upon us. Does one seek out a beau strictly to fit the norm for what should be happening at this point in life? On what date do you bring up expectations? And what if they don’t have the same long-term goals, what then?

For me and mine, we had the expectations conversation fairly up front. Pragmatism and maturity made it a necessity to get that out in the open. Two years in, and apparently I’m following all of the latest trends: cohabitation before marriage and being highly educated and yet unmarried. (For a counterpoint to the “highly educated and yet unmarried” piece, the latest news says that college-educated women have a better chance at marriage than those who only finished high school.) (Also, good gosh, do NOT search “educated black women and marriage” if you want to believe in your fairy tale ending, that was a depressing result list.) While I understand folks who choose to keep separate households until after the vows were exchanged, I believe in knowing what I’m getting into before signing a contract that is supposedly irrevocable – that includes snoring, cleanliness, fiscal responsibility and the like.

Much like my friend’s reflection on her life and that of her peers in light of her birthday, I have the same circumstances coming up. I was recently chatting online with a male friend who I have known since our halcyon days of undergraduate, when we used to act like our twenties would extend forever into the future in an awesome collection of boring classes, entry level jobs and kicking it for Homecoming every year. He didn’t keep up his end of the bargain though, and our conversation was not about how much we were looking forward to happy hour together, but about how happy he is that his two kids sleep late regularly and that his wife doesn’t know he does a 15-minute rush cleanup before she makes it home. Happy wife, happy life – he learned quickly! It’s the weirdest feeling to consider him as a father and husband, but it’s the reality of his life.

Thankfully, very few people I interact with regularly ask me when me and my boyfriend are getting hitched. They’re smart enough to know that the answer is a blank stare and a subject change. Just like it’s rude to ask a woman if she’s pregnant, it’s equally as rude to inquire about wedding plans. Until I get to that point, and don’t expect that much will change when I do, I plan on avoiding the drinking water sources of the newly pregnant friends and wives of friends, and being happy that I don’t have to schedule sleeping past 7 a.m. on weekends. Sorry I’m not sorry parents!

March 18, 2013

Victim or Victor Mentality – All Up to You

Quiet as its kept, I’ve had an eventful three and a half months so far. 2013 could be the greatest year of my life or one of the worst, and I’m a true believer that so much of that hinges on my personal attitude and responses to situations.

“Your attitude determines your altitude.”

“Positive thinking brings about positive situations.”

Catch phrases. Panaceas against hardship and trials. And damn annoying when it feels like you’re getting it from all angles and there is no one in your corner to tag in and fight with you. My blessing is that I’ve never felt alone but it’s understandable that in seasons of trial, when you’re sowing for the reaping, when you’re in the valley and looking toward the peak of the mountain, you feel the most alone.

We live in a society that allows us to play the victim. This is especially true for those of us who are blessed the most. How many of us have grumbled and groaned about being passed up for a promotion, a perceived slight from a friend or colleague or worst yet, complaining about something that is within our ability to change and we’ve been to shortsighted or stubborn to do so? My challenges could truly have allowed me to play the ultimate “VICTIM” card, to writhe and moan and eke out sympathy from all those around me. I could have blasted my business on social media, decried society and individuals alike, and then sat back and let the good wave of “Poor you” and “How awful” roll over me and stew in my situation.

I don’t get down like that. From an early age, my mom instilled in us the principle of “24 Hour Pity Party.” Roughly translated to: “Take your day of self-pity for whatever has befallen you, self-medicate in cookies and ice cream, a vodka neat, talking it out, hiding under your blanket and generally blaming the world…and then build a bridge and get over it.” Tough love but dang if it doesn’t work. I grew up without a “Woe is me” chip on my shoulder, daring the world to bump it off whenever I felt I didn’t get what I deserved. When I get knocked for a loop, much like I have been since Jan. 1 of this year, I don’t know any other method of coping other than to dust myself off and figure out the next step. Victim mentality, even when I’ve truly been a victim, doesn’t suit me and likely it doesn’t suit you either. So I challenge you to see the beauty of getting a bowl full of lemons – you’ll never get scurvy!

March 9, 2013

My Experiments With Networking (Online and Off)

Like many people, I suck at networking. I admit it, I’m the person lurking on the edge of chatty circles, clutching to my glass of white wine and hoping to get enough conversation to make the valet tip worth the time spent. I know, common sense and network communication theory tell us that the more ties you have and the stronger those ties are, the more valuable your network. But there is something ever so slightly terrifying about pasting on a smile, mustering up some courage and saying to a near stranger “Hi, my name is Leisa, tell me about yourself .”

Thank goodness the Internet exists then, because I got all of my life through the recent online stream and Twitter chat for “The Politics of Black Women’s Hair Symposium” at the University of Pennsylvania. Three panels convened to discuss one of my favorite topics from the perspective of intellectual (graduate students presenting their papers), hair bloggers (including one of my favorites, Afrobella) and academics (moderated by another favorite, Melissa Harris-Perry). I wasn’t able to watch the academic portion but I did watch and tweet about the incredibly well written and articulated papers from the students and I was able to catch the end of the bloggers’ segment.

Hegemony, power structures, standards of beauty, patriarchal – it was wonderful to hear these words spilling out of the mouths of these intelligent panelists and attendees. I was reminded of the reason why I decided to get my graduate degree: the love of a thorough and nuanced discussion of the ways we communicate, the study of society and academic excellence. The papers covered a range of topics, from marketing within the natural hair community, specifically looking at Mixed Chicks, Carol’s Daughter and Miss Jessie, to the rise of bloggers as natural hair experts in relation to the decline of traditional hair stylists. Some great points presented from the papers: the transition from beauty companies using models with tightly coiled hair to a more ethnically ambiguous look and the fact that though some natural women look to online styling advice, it is also the responsibility of hair stylists to meet their customers where they’re at, which is online.

And it wasn’t all online. I managed to network, and I did it without a glass of wine! My former cube spouse, who blogs over at Pimplomat, you should go check him out, hipped me to the Dallas Press Club event “Becoming the Ultimate Freelancer.” It was my time attending a Dallas Press Club event, and boy am I glad I went. I met the knowledgeable Neil Foote, who bonded with me over the cultural touch point that is The Tom Joyner Morning Show (complete with karaoke-style singing of the intro hook). The panels featured journalists turned freelancers, freelancers from the start, content marketers, lawyers and other experts. Lo and behold, turns out that speaking to strangers over coffee and breakfast tacos isn’t as hard as I’d made it inside my head. I’ll definitely be back for another workshop and networking event.

Have you surprised yourself at a networking event or during a Twitter chat, and turned it out? Walked away with a list of new contacts, followers and inspiration? Share your success tips!

February 26, 2013

Adventures in Babysitting

For the past three months, I have been playing surrogate owner to one fluffy child. I should clarify, this fluffy child was originally my child. As times and responsibilities changed once I made the decision to go back to school, I recognized that my schedule didn’t allow me the same flexibility that I once had. Evening long walks on Santa Fe Trail (back before they paved it over, when you’d catch sight of a rabbit or two), belly rubs and social time at White Rock Dog Park – all of that had to take a back seat to reading, reading, writing and more reading. Instead of shipping the dog off to the modern day “farm” – also known as the Dallas-area SPCA – I asked my mom, an empty-nester, to take in the dog for an unspecified period.

Best decision I could have made. They’ve been inseparable and I get to play weekend mom when I go to my hometown.

Right after Christmas, I thought I was taking the dog on for the month of January, no biggie. We’d have some walks, socialize and before we knew it, our brief time together would be up and she would be back with my mom on the road back home, all the while looking back at me with one tear drifting down. Along the way, early February became late February and in that time, I remembered all the good and bad points about dog ownership. Early morning walks in the blustery wind, evening strolls when you just want to melt into the couch with a glass of wine and the new Scandal episode waiting for you on the DVR. The strange neediness of dogs and how they jump up the moment you do, anticipating that maybe you’ll give them an absentminded neck scratch or, maybe just maybe, you’ll take them for an impromptu walk. All of which began to wear on my nerves. However, it wasn’t all bad. Though I grumble every time I put on what have now been assigned as my dog-walking shoes, once I’m out in the fresh air and I see how it revives her, I can’t help but reflect that happiness back to her. Dogs and babies, only monsters can’t appreciate their unshakable happiness with the simplest things in life.

As I wind down the last few days, I have one example of why having a dog is simultaneously awesome and scary. I had a protective moment, in which my fur baby was almost hurt, I didn’t know what to do and she taught me a lesson in shaking it off. Thinking that I should get her some socialization time with a neighbor’s two dogs, we trotted over to the run at my community and tried to give them some off-leash time. Apparently one of my neighbor’s dogs hadn’t learned the essentials to life, which includes “Thou shalt not bite your new friend on the face.” And freak out ensues. After what to an observer probably looked like a fine imitation of Benny Hill, with me grabbing her dog and her trying to grab the other end of the dog, her second dog trying to figure out who’s on first and my dog probably still not getting that this does not equal friendship, we finally get everyone to their respective corners. At this point, I’d picked up my dog like a baby and was checking her out while she gave me, in my mind, the look of childlike reproach: “How could you bring me to this place?” The demon dog, the dummy dog and their owner left with many apologies – and really, with rescue dogs, you can only do so much. A lot of it is personality, and clearly that dog did not from a happy home before being adopted. Once I put my dog down, with kind and soothing words and a lump in my throat, I wondered if she would ever be the same. Would she shy away from socializing and never find another fellow furry friend? Had I RUINED her? And then she set me straight with a shake of her coat and a quick scamper off to discover new smells. While I was so concerned about her mental anguish, she just wanted to be a dog. Pretty cool lesson…though if I catch the demon dog in a dark alley alone, it’s on like Donkey Kong.

So in honor of her indomitable spirit and her ability to sport a jaunty bandanna in all the colors of the rainbow, I dedicate this post to Forti: