...And you thought YOU could make a difference?

How would you feel if you found out that President Obama's daughters were not only unaware of the meaning of the word "leadership," but had never even seen the word? What if Frederick Douglass' five children had never heard the word "sacrifice?" What if Booker T. Washington's three children had never understood the meaning of the word "labor?" What if Malcolm X's six children weren't aware of the word "pride?"

Hard to imagine, isn't it? That's exactly why I scoffed when my white, New England-raised Teach for America English advisor told our group to be prepared to define and explain the word "prejudice" during an initial reading with our 99% all-black summer school students from across inner-city Atlanta. How dare she suggest that these students, raised in the heart of the South, could be ignorant to the word "prejudice?" As the one of the only black educators in the room, I merely shook my head and kept my comments to myself, chalking up her words to naivete.


That was until I met *Ashton. At 4-foot-7 with a voice squeakier than a Chipette, she was the first person I sat down to read with when I met my class of forty; forty tenth through twelfth-graders from across Atlanta who had failed to pass ninth-grade English. Forty students that included some with criminal records and an expecting mother. Ashton seemed to provide a stark contrast from the group because of her sweet, child-like innocence. A student at Coretta Scott King High School, an all-girls leadership academy in Atlanta, Ashton was like a breath of fresh air.


But, it wasn't until she began to read me the selected passage that I realized reading and writing were just the  tip of the iceberg in terms of the issues I would face while teaching summer school. Hunched over the paper in deep concentration, Ashton read each word carefully while following along with her index finger. It wasn't until we got to the word I was waiting for that she began to stutter.


"Prrr - pree - preeej..." I was watching incredulously as Ashton began to sink deeper and deeper, like she was being swallowed by quicksand. Let her sound it out, I thought. Just wait, she'll get it.


After what felt like a long, laborious 35 seconds, Ashton finally glanced up at me, her eyes pleading with me to give her my hand to pull her out. "Prejudice," I said finally, searching her big, brown eyes for a hint of recognition. My heart sank to the soles of my feet as she crinkled her brows in confusion.


"Preh-juh-diss?" she sounded out cautiously, looking back at the page.


"Prejudice," I repeated. "You know what prejudice is..." I paused. "Right?"


She looked back up at me and smiled sheepishly, shaking her head.


"But you've heard the word," I nodded encouragingly. She shook her head and shrugged.


My heart pounded as she waited for me to explain. She's got to be kidding me, I thought. But as I looked back at Ashton, I knew that there was nothing funny happening right now. Finally, I cleared my throat. "Prejudice is when someone forms a negative opinion about someone else without a logical reason." She nodded slowly. I continued, "For example, someone could be prejudiced against you because you're black," I said.


She nodded and continued reading. And though I, too, was staring down at the words on the page, all I could see was a mountain I was no longer sure I was prepared or equipped to climb.


I wish I could say that Ashton was the only student to whom I had to teach the word "prejudice" that day; but there were several others - all carrying the names of Coretta Scott King, Frederick Douglass, Dorothy Height, Booker T. Washington and George Washington Carver High School on their backs. The irony left me dazed and discouraged by the time I left school that day; where had the disconnect occurred? As I stood in front of my class that first day, I sadly watched as students cursed each other out, fixed the bandannas in their sagging back pockets and threw reading and writing assignments on the floor as a sign of defiance.


All of a sudden, I was Hilary Swank standing in a classroom to which I couldn't relate. I was Sandra Bullock watching a black boy with so much potential throw it away because he couldn't see past his immediate circle of influence. I was Emma Stone trying to save a group of disenfranchised black females through an overly-simplified solution to an overly-complex issue. With the exception of my skin tone and my educational background (having gone to both an HBHS and an HBCU), I was now the women I had scoffed at, resented and rebuked: the white savior who had thought that "making a difference" could happen in an hour and thirty minutes of reel time.


On my second day of teaching, one of my pregnant girls asked me why I cared so much about them raising their hands. After giving an impassioned speech about the importance of being respectful, college-ready and blah, blah, blah; she interrupted me. Just that quick, I was suddenly Whoopi Goldberg from Sister Act II, standing for the first time in front of a class of rowdy inner-city high school students who couldn't give a damn about me, respect or college.


"Let me tell you something, right quick," she interrupted, popping her gum and putting her hands on her eight-months large stomach.


Looking around at her classmates with a smirk, she finally met my surprised eyes. "Welcome to the A, Baby Girl, because we don't follow directions here; so, you might as well quit now."


In the midst of all the cat-calling, jeers and cheers; something in me snapped. No longer sure if I was the newest guest on the television show What Would You Do, a sudden star in the latest 'save the poor black children' movie or simply unprepared to deal with something I naively thought would be easy; I was now hysterical. I laughed...laughed...then laughed some more, until the entire class was looking at me with a mix of fear and confusion. Standing up slowly from the edge of the teacher's desk, I walked to the front of the room, shoulders still shaking with silent laughter. Turning around, I looked my baby mama right in the eye and said, "Now, let me tell all of you something."


All forty eyes were trained on me as I held eye contact with my very own 'Rita Louise Watson.' "If you think I came all the way to 'the A' to babysit you, watch you disrespect me, each other and fail this class again; it's gonna be a longgggg summer...baby girl." I laughed again and began writing on the board. "Listen up," I said loudly, smiling to myself.


"If you wanna be somebody, if you wanna go somewhere, you better wake up and pay attention," I turned around to face the class. "Because this is your moment."


And, with the pressure of Coretta, Martin, Malcolm, Dorothy, Frederick, George, Booker and Barack watching, it's my moment too.


"No you won't be name'n no buildings after me / to go down dilapidated / No you won't be name'n no buildings after me / My name will be mistated, surely." - E. Badu (A.D. 2000)

Smile because she lived...

I didn't anticipate being as affected as I was by Dr. Davy's passing. I had known about her battle with leukemia for awhile now, and sometimes even heard her speak openly about death. But as I read the news on Twitter, I immediately felt a lump grow in my throat as my eyes welled up. I had just seen her two weeks earlier when she gently teased me for being one of the last seniors on-campus, days after graduation.

"I never thought you'd be the one," she smirked.

"What do you mean?" I asked, as I plopped down in the chair diagonal from her desk. It was Thursday, four days after we had crossed the stage at Commencement.

"The one that would have trouble letting go," she said. "There's one every year. But I never would've guessed it'd be you."

I never would've guessed it either; but the fact of the matter is that I wasn't quite ready to let go. I wasn't ready to turn the page on what has been one of the most life-changing chapters of my life. Wasn't ready to say goodbye to the characters that have had more of an impact on my life and who I am than I gave them credit for.

Dr. Freddye T. Davy was one of those people. In a word, Dr. Davy was a BOSS. An original gangsta. An O.G. - yeah, I said it. She kept her pimp hand strong and her words even stronger. She didn't waste her breath and definitely never wasted her time. Many didn't realize that Dr. Davy has been sick for awhile now; you never would've guessed it by looking at her. She rarely missed a day of work and refused to slow down no matter how much her health deteriorated. She often said she was working on borrowed time; time I'd like to think she borrowed to see my class off into the world. I think that's what caused the tears to fall. It wasn't sadness; it was more like overwhelming gratitude.

Throughout college I've lost so many mentors and leaders as they transitioned to new chapters in their lives. First, Dean Tony Brown, the journalism legend whose leadership at the Scripps Howard School is the very reason I chose Hampton University. Then, Professor Martha Wilson - the first teacher at Hampton who truly invested in me. Then it was Opel Jones, the director of the Leadership Institute. Dr. Taylor of the Honors College and Leadership Institute left soon after. Mr. Dillard, director of University choirs passed away unexpectedly last year. During my tenure at Hampton, I experienced three different school deans, two different Leadership Institute directors and two different mentors in the Honors College. Dr. Davy, however, made it known that she wasn't leaving until she was good and ready. After spending a few days in the hospital last week, she checked out after ignoring the concerns of her doctor. She allegedly told the hospital staff that she refused to lay in a hospital waiting to die. The next day she returned to work. Just days later, I was told that she bid the Honors College staff farewell for the day with one casual phrase that I'm sure the secretary will never forget: "See ya when I see ya."

Words can't describe what Dr. Davy meant to me. If you had talked to me just a year ago, I would've told you that Dr. Davy had a personal vendetta against me. She would barely let me get a word out before challenging my thinking, my word choice and even the way I carried myself. There were times when I would go weeks hiding from her to avoid her critical gaze (though it was difficult because I lived in the same building as her office). Now, I'm thankful that she cared enough to give me the tough love that she did. I'm grateful to be one of the few whose names she remembered. And while I'm glad I was able to thank her face-to-face for everything she taught me a few weeks ago, as well as see her celebrated when the Honors College was renamed in honor of her just months ago, I felt inclined to create a post sharing the invaluable wisdom that she bestowed upon me during my tenure at Hampton.

Dr. Davy has taught thousands of students during her lifetime, but here are some of the valuable words of wisdom that I gained from her. I like to call them...


The Davy-isms:

• Think before you speak. Forget "um" and "like," Dr. Davy would barely let me get a word out before calling me out for saying "basically" or "you know." She taught me to mean what I say and say what I mean. There's nothing wrong with pausing to collect your thoughts and, in most cases, it makes people pay more attention to what you're saying when you do take your time. There's nothing wrong with slowing down and paying attention to what you're saying and how you're saying it.

• Pay your dues, then get paid to pursue your passion. Dr. Davy used to say that my generation was too caught up on following our passions. The fact of the matter is, in her opinion, that dropping everything to follow your passion is not only misguided, but stupid as well. "At 22-years old, what are you sure about?" She asked me one day. Before I could answer, she cut in. "All you know is that you want to be able to feed yourself and be financially independent. Pursue something that will help you to do that and along the way, you'll find your passion and have the ability to pursue it without losing everything." According to Dr. Davy, she didn't find her passion until after years of school, teaching and random jobs here and there. It wasn't until later in life that she began doing what she was truly passionate about - on her own terms. Dr. Davy often didn't come in to work until after 11 a.m. She had earned that privilege because her dues were paid.

• Love what you do and you'll never work a day in your life. Dr. Davy was passionate about the Honors College. She lived and breathed it, investing everything she had in each student she had. It was often that I would see the light on in her office as late as 11 p.m. She loved the work she was doing and I truly believe that that's why she was able to stay with us as long as she did.

• It's not who you know, it's who knows you. 

• Don't ask people what they can do for you; tell people what you need from them. [WARNING: The power of this technique is semi-dangerous if used correctly. Not for the ill-willed or weak at heart]. I like to call this one "The Davy." I often witnessed it when she would call students and faculty into her office, or even when she would reach out to alumni. It's a technique that I marveled at and, to this day, have practiced using it for my own purposes. The results have been surreal. Dr. Davy had a way of getting what she needed from you by phrasing a question in the form of a statement. For example, instead of asking someone, "Can you help me build an ark later? There going to be a flood;" Dr. Davy would say: "I'm going to have you get started on this ark I'm building. There's going to be a flood and there's no time to waste." If you practice this technique enough, you'll never have to worry about rallying support or getting things done.

• Common sense ain't that common. Too often we question what we already know to be true. It's often about what we should or shouldn't do in a situation. We try to safeguard our actions by seeking validation from others instead of trusting our gut or intuition. Thinking before you ask questions and trusting your instincts will get you much further than adopting a CYA mentality all the time. Too often it's better to ask forgiveness than ask permission.

• Waiting for the spanking hurts worse than the spanking itself. So get it over with! If you did something wrong, own up to it and own up to it quickly. The faster you take responsibility for what you did, the faster you deal with the consequences. Also, being honest and accountable often will get you more respect than waiting to confess and playing the blame game.

The lessons I've learned from Dr. Davy are boundless. Our loss was Heaven's gain and I will forever be grateful for the lessons (though tough) that I gained from her. She was truly a gem and I'm glad to have another angel added to my flock. I will continue to honor her memory by living her wisdom and sharing it with others. Dr. Davy lived. She really, really lived. And I'm grateful.

Rest in peace.

What are some Davy-isms that you learned from her? Celebrate her life by commenting and sharing what she taught you.

2012...or 1912?

2012: The Year the Pot Finally Boiled Over 
2012: The Year America's Caged Monster Finally Broke Free
2012: The Year the Country's Dirty Little Secret Went Viral
2012: The Year a Dark Past Emerged From The Shadows
2012: The Year We Realized We Were Never Really "Free."

I've been daydreaming about future headlines for awhile now. With so much going on in the news, I can't help but think that it's time.

It's that realization moment when it becomes apparent that what happens next is up to you. Up to me. At 22-years old, I'm the same age as most of the Freedom Riders (pictured above) who left college to risk their lives on a journey through the deep South to challenge Jim Crow. I'm the same age as many of the protestors who marched in strength and solitude for Emmett Till. As I prepare to leave college and embark on a life that will be guided solely by my own decisions, I've come to the realization that the Special Prosecutor's announcement is a direct challenge at me, my peers and our future children.

In just four months since the start of the new year, the black community has already suffered the loss of too many as a result of bigotry and racism. Trayvon Martin was killed in cold blood 43 days ago; his murderer is still not in custody. On March 24, 19-year old college student, Kendrec McDade, was shot and killed after being wrongfully suspected of having a weapon. Four days ago, Howard Morgan was sentenced to 40 years in prison after being shot 28 times by police officers while he was working as an off-duty police officer. This past weekend, innocent black pedestrians in Tulsa, Oklahoma were gunned down by two racist white men.

Is this 2012 or 1912? As we continue forward toward this year's presidential election, I can't help but wonder about what else the year has in store and how my generation will respond. The Black Panther party has already reorganized into a more modern, yet just as radical version. Racial tension is at an all-time high right now, and I know that if something doesn't happen soon these rallies could quickly turn into riots. But would you riot?

Mark my words: The events of this year could forever be recorded in history as a turning point for this country and its continued struggle with its dark past. The headline may even look similar to what I imagined above. But how will our response fit into that story? How will our generation be described? What will you tell your grandchildren when they ask you about it?

It's not just time; it's our time. I think it's time to stand up and regroup. What happens next is up to us.

Get Over It: Why Black People Need to Lighten Up

Face it – black people like chicken.

It can be baked, barbequed, broiled, slow roasted, kabob’d or grilled; but let's be honest, you like it best when it’s fried. There’s nothing like the crispy, juicy, down home comfort of a crunchy, perfectly-spiced chicken breast. Your mama made it, her mama made it, her mama’s mama made it and her mama’s mama’s mama probably made it on somebody’s plantation. Fried chicken runs as deep as the blood, sweat and tears of our ancestors and is an undeniably integral part of our culture as black Americans. We cook it, we eat it, we talk about it and if you look anything like Mary J. Blige, you’re mostly likely singing about it too (see video on right).

Too much? Well, if you didn’t even kind-of smile at that last paragraph I have two words for you: LIGHTEN UP! It’s time for us to start treating silly generalizations as what they are – silly generalizations. It’s like the black community is in a permanently crouched position – waiting, carefully watching for someone to slip up and do or say anything seemingly offensive that we can rant about. From racist bumper stickers, to ignorant tweets to stereotype-charged advertising, we’ve slowly become the that was racist-patrol. We have to understand that most generalizations are based in some sort of fact and laugh about it. We also have to understand that people tend to hate and fear what they don't understand. Most importantly, we, as a community, have to realize that our constant defensiveness is what gives blatant ignorance its power.

In regards to Mary J. Blige, the 'queen of ghetto love' recently decided to partner with Burger King to promote their new crispy chicken wrap. In a voice filled with the soul we all know and love, she sang “crispy chicken, fresh lettuce, three cheeses, ranch dressing, wrapped up in a tasty flour tortilla!” like the rent was past due. I’ll be the first to admit it – when I saw the commercial, I couldn’t help but bob my head and snap to the catchy beat. When the commercial was over, I laughed and shook my head. In no way did I feel that Mary J. Blige making a personal decision to sing about fried chicken had tarnished my brand. Matter of fact, the tune has been stuck in my head ever since. Nevertheless, Burger King pulled the commercial after backlash from viewers who said the commercial was racist.

The truth is, to be a famous and successful black American is to carry the weight of the black community on one’s shoulders. We automatically realize the fact that there may not be many in our position and that the image we project to the general population may be one of the only positive impressions of blacks to which they’re exposed. We realize that how we speak, behave and react is being judged at all times by our paler counterparts and we respond accordingly.

But is it fair? Is it fair to me that the silly decisions Mary J. Blige makes for her brand could affect how people view me? Is it fair to aspiring black actresses that they could be discounted in regards to larger lead roles because of the roles that actresses like Gabourey Sidibe, Octavia Spencer, Viola Davis and even the late Hattie McDaniel have chosen to take? Is it fair that young black boys like Trayvon Martin have to fear for their lives because of young thugs who share nothing but a similar complexion?

No. It’s not fair. And while some may argue that life isn’t fair and “it is what it is,” I decided long ago that wasn't going to own y'all's “raggedy shit” (credit to Raven). I’ve got enough of my own to deal with. Yes, I’m black. No, I don’t like fried chicken. Yes, I’m black. No, I'm not plotting to attack you because I’m wearing a hoodie. Yes, I’m black. No, my first language is not “Ebonics.” I’m not a dropout, I don’t aspire to be the next Nicki Minaj and I am not illiterate (my excellent reading comprehension actually made it clear to me that both Rue and Thresh were black prior to viewing The Hunger Games on opening night - but that’s another conversation).

There comes a time when you have to be able to laugh at yourself and more importantly, laugh at other people. Don’t own those generalizations. Realizing that your success is not based on someone else’s decisions and choosing to be your own unique brand is the first step to fighting stereotypes.

- Jess

Why Activism DID NOT Die With My Generation

Yesterday, I was told by a professor that activism died with my generation. We’re too “apathetic.” We’re too “narcissistic.” We’re too “self-involved.” We’re too “scared to step out.” We’re too “concerned about looking good on paper.”

Students in his generation wouldn’t have just sat by, passively chatting about the latest instance of injustice, like it was the latest trend. Marches. Sit-ins. Protests. Rallies. Picketing. With duct-taped mouths, heads bowed and fists raised to the sky, they would have fought relentlessly (with their local, contained group).

Have you ever imagined how the civil rights movement might have been different had social media existed?

Dr. King would have had thousands of Twitter followers. Pictures of Rosa Parks being arrested after defiantly refusing to give up her seat on that bus would have spread like wildfire on sites like Instagram. The Freedom Riders would have organized a group via Facebook and might have even recorded and uploaded their encounters in the Deep South to YouTube or Tumblr. News of the four little girls killed in the church bombing or 14-year-old Emmett Till’s murder would have been instant trending topics (given that Twitter didn’t block them).

Social media would have been major for not only raising worldwide awareness of civil rights issues happening in small areas, but also for mobilizing international support. The bus boycotts, which begin in Montgomery in 1955, would have extended beyond Montgomery, traversing the South and east coast, devastating the public transportation industry for years to come. The sit-in at the segregated Greensboro lunch counter in 1960 by four brave North Carolina A&T students might have been by at least forty brave students. The 1963 March on Washington, which was attended by 200,000 people at the time, could have easily reached one million attendees.

I am inexplicably grateful for and indebted to my ancestors who sacrificed their livelihood and lives for the life and opportunities that I have the privilege of benefitting from today. Their strength and courage during the civil rights movement has been unmatched by many generations. On the same note, I believe it is unfair to claim that my generation lacks the capability of making the same impact. While our ancestors laid the foundation that paved the way, we have courageously continued their legacy by stepping up and speaking out. And, it is our voice that has forced the world forward into places they only imagined (the outer space and the White House, to name just two).

Our generation has a different type of power than our ancestors. What they did – the sit-ins, marches and rallies – had a purpose of making people pay attention; making people care enough to address the injustices they faced. Conversely, our generation has the power to dictate to what the world decides to pay attention by speaking out about it online. From Barack Obama to Troy Davis to Trayvon Martin – we tell the world what is relevant. 

For example, within the past two weeks, Trayvon’s story has gone international, even leading to protests abroad. Our voice led to the fastest growing petition in Internet history, according to Change.com. Our voice made celebrities pay attention, helping to get the word out. Our voice has made news networks dedicate days of coverage and analysis to the story. Our voice made the FBI and the Department of Justice take over the case when the local government mishandled it. Our voice made the President of the United States comment. Most of all, our voice made sure that the Kony’s and the Zimmerman’s of the world aren’t sleeping at night anymore.

That, my friends, is activism; and I'd bet anything that our ancestors are proud.

-Jess

Loving Your Letters

I play a lot of Words with Friends. And when I say "a lot," I mean I may have a small problem (Alec Baldwin status). But I love the game because it keeps my mind active and it teaches me a lot. In fact, in the hundreds of games I've played, I've actually been able to make some interesting comparisons between life and the game. Just hear me out.

For those of you not familiar with Words with Friends, it's basically like Scrabble that you can play remotely. I'd like to think that I'm a beast, but I've definitely had some weak moments. People often complain that I play too strategically or too slowly, which I can definitely admit. There will be times when I'm staring at my letters for hours, trying to figure where they'd best be placed. While imagining the words I could create and points I could score, I notice myself focusing more on what I don't have than what I do have.

If only I had a "G." If only this area of the board wasn't already occupied. If only I had another vowel. If only, if only. If only I could focus on what I do have rather than agonizing over what I don't have, I could probably move forward.


Gratitude is at the forefront of my mind in 2012 - appreciating what I have and not focusing on what I don't. I've had some majors losses during my college career but they don't compare to the wins I've experienced. By focusing on the right things, I think we can all move forward and make the best of our circumstances despite what we're lacking. Marinate on that.

--> purelyjess. I welcome all challengers :)

Getting Focused Against the Odds

It's easy to accomplish things when you feel like it - but when you do something even when you don't want to is when true growth and self-discipline happens.

My main focus this year was to build up my own self-discipline. Yesterday, the stars didn't align for me. Three days into the new year and I was already losing my grip on doing what I needed to do. I overslept, got distracted by Twitter and Tabatha's Salon Takeover, and before you know it it was 4 p.m. and I had lost most of my time to be productive. But in every failure there's definitely a lesson. Here are some lessons I learned that will help me to stay focused throughout the year:

Anticipate your 'down days:' When observing yourself, note the days where your productivity lags. Is it when you wake up late? Is it on Tuesdays and Thursdays when there's less on your schedule? Is it on Monday when you're overwhelmed? If you can anticipate the days when you'll be struggling to accomplish what you need to, then you can better equip yourself to meet them head-on. 

For me, I always start strong on Sunday and Monday, when my motivation and inspiration is at its highest. By Tuesday, I've slowed down. By Wednesday, I'm lagging and have lost most of my steam. By Thursday, I'm honestly pretty useless. If I know that about myself, I can better equip myself to deal with and overcome it.

Set a time limit. Sometimes we need a little bit of distraction to get focused. Give yourself a few minutes or hours of what you want with a clear plan to get back on track afterward. If what you need to do is time sensitive, promise yourself that you'll come back to it as soon as  you finish. Sometimes a small dose of a television show or computer game is exactly what the doctor ordered to get your mind back on track.

Don't beat yourself up. Everybody deals with focus issues every now and then. Just because you're unfocused doesn't mean that you've failed at achieving the goals you've set out to accomplish. Accept the fact that you're a little off today, embrace it, pray about it, then let it go. We're not superhuman.

After a few hours of Tabatha yesterday, I was able to turn the television off, relocate and do what I needed to do before I went to sleep. Hopefully these takeaways will help you the next time you find yourself to be lacking in focus or motivation.

What are ways that you access focus when focus isn't in your favor?

The Micro-Action Movement.

It's only January 2nd and I'm already on a roll with no intent of slowing down. My first 40 days of my "New Year's Results" is in full force (not eating out more than once-a-week), and I've also gotten back on track with my novel which I was initially intending to have finished by May, but with a new micro-action goal of 4,000 words-a-day, I am on track to finish this baby by January 15th (right before my classes start). I started three new graduate school applications yesterday that I am also aiming to have finished by the first week of school, so I am PUMPED, to say the least.


I read a blog post yesterday that really helped me to understand how I'm going to attack these results without giving up the way so many people do early in the year. The blog talked about the concept of micro-action. When we make a big resolution, such as to lose weight, write a book, change our diet or better manage our money, it sounds more than doable in the heat of the moment, but when it comes time to actually face the reality of accomplishing these things, we become daunted by the reality of them and what it's actually going to require of us to make it happen; that's how people give up so quickly. I mean, let's be real. Will you really go to the gym every morning at 6 a.m. to jog on the treadmill for an hour? Maybe for a month while you're still motivated. Personally, I know the gym at school is only crowded for the first three weeks, if that.


The blog I read stressed micro-action: doing something small and realistic to contribute to the greater, long-term picture. Planning to run a marathon by October? When you think about it, it's daunting to actually get up every morning and run to train when you've never run before. Start by committing yourself to power walking three times-a-week, then later graduating to jogging, that way you're less likely to quit because you're committing to actions that are actually manageable. The next thing you know you'll be in New York finishing that marathon and wondering how you actually did it. 


For me, finishing and publishing my novel has been a task that's been on my list every year, but when it comes down to sitting down to actually write 60,000 - 80,000 words, I get intimidated and distracted by my own thoughts. Questions like "Who are you to write a novel?"  "What makes you think anybody would read this?" cross my mind and distract me from the task at hand too easily. That's why I'm committing to micro-action. Spending two hours to write 4,000 words-a-day instead of trying to sit down and write a novel all at once is much easier on my state of mind. Restricting my weekly fast food intake and money output by designating only one day a week when I can indulge at a restaurant is another way I'm micro-acting. Another way is by jump roping for five minutes each day before really getting out on the streets to jog again.


Be real with yourself in 2012 and your resolutions are sure to become results. Check out the blog and let me know what you think! If we focus on the little things, I'm sure that the big results we want will materialize. What are some of your resolutions that you can micro-act on?

Kissing 2011 Goodbye

This year my philosophy was definitely "If it feels good, go towards it. If it feels bad, walk away." I was pretty caught up on the concept of happiness - what/who made me happy and what/who I could do without. Because of this a lot of things and people got cut. If I felt like you were overly negative when i was around you, you most likely saw less of me. The same went for actions; if I didn't feel like getting up when my alarm rang, I allowed myself to go back to sleep.

While I can say I was pretty happy in 2011, I can definitely admit that a lot was sacrificed because of my philosophy. I was late to work and class too often and I even missed a few appointments that I didn't think were worth my peace of mind. Some friendships were sacrificed too. Simply stated, I spoiled myself and didn't hold myself accountable for much. The majority of the time, matter won out over mind and, unfortunately, it cost me a lot of my self-discipline.


In 2012, I'm cracking down. It was fun to do what I wanted for awhile - whether it was Waffle House in the middle of the night or sleeping through a class every now and then, but as I approach true independence post-grad I want to gain a better handle on what I do and how I spend my time. I admit that at times I've allowed other people to keep me in line over the years; my mom, my dad, my friend, my boyfriend, etc. But I've got to grow up and start building up the self-discipline that I once had to do what I need to do.


SO MANY plans for the new year. Graduating, moving out on my own, going to graduate school and finishing my novel are just a few goals I have. And as I've mentioned before, it's about full-circle revitalization. I've decided that my process for implementing good habits will involve 40-day periods. Just like in Lent, when I give up or take up something for 40 days, I'll be doing that throughout the year, adding a new habit every 40 days. My first habit? Eating out no more than once-a-week. If you know me, you know how difficult that will be, but it will also help me to build up my self-discipline early on in the year.


So, here's a toast to 2012! I'm claiming this year as mine. Off to write these new year's results (not resolutions), get started on this vision board, clean out my proverbial closet and pray in the new year.

What a year ...

Wow. I can't believe it's this time of the year again. 2011 was something else - I grew and learned more about myself than ever before. Before I get into what I have planned for 2012 I think it's fitting to take a glance back to look at some milestones and lessons learned (especially since I neglected to update throughout the year). Here's what went down.


New Year's Eve in Sin City
In my first-ever venture to the left coast, I traveled to Sin City with my two friends, my mom and a friend's mom to bring in the new year. The trip was filled with sad gambling attempts, raunchy shows, fruity spirits and lots of tasty food. It was an interesting way for me to spend new year's eve, mainly because I was used to bringing in the new year either in church or in front of the television with my family, sipping on sparkling cider and munching on cabbage. Needless to say, it was memorable. With a half-empty daiquiri-filled guitar, I stood in the crowded streets of Vegas with my girls as we counted in the new year, squeezing my eyes shut during the fireworks to say a quick prayer for good fortune while a girl threw up next to my feet.


Lessons Learned:
- There's no alcohol in those daiquiris.
- I have weak ankles o_O.
- Don't buy tickets to shows that aren't on the strip lol.
- In-N-Out Burger may have been established by Jesus himself.
- I think the introspective New Year's Eve's are more for me. As much as people want to complain that New Year's Eve is just another day, it's pretty special to me. I love the thought of starting over and spending the evening writing my resolutions (or results, as I'm calling them this year), cleaning out my closet and talking to the big guy upstairs.


Mardi Gras for Spring Break
It was interesting going to "the Big Easy" for spring break. I had been to the city many times before for random events so when my parents warned me that it would be very different from what I had previously experience, I brushed them off. Let's just say that some of the things I saw on Bourbon St. I've never seen IN MY LIFE (meaning on television, in person, in movies, heard about, etc.). There's absolutely nothing like Mardi Gras.


Lessons Learned:
- Don't mix a vacation with the girls with a vacation with your man (learned this the hard way).
- Don't go ham on the first night if you know you're planning to go even harder the second night. I drank half a bottle of something that got me sick the next morning (the last day of Mardi Gras). I was watching the Zulu Parade when the sun came out & hit my face. The next thing I knew, I was throwing up on the side of the road and refused to even look at alcohol the rest of the day.
- Don't go to Bourbon St. sober during Mardi Gras. I'm permanently scarred.


Google.
Let me just say that I never expected to get the internship with Google. I had already confirmed an internship with the Scripps Networks when I got the call. I was driving back from spring break and I can definitely say it literally took my breath away. When I found out I would be working in Michigan I was initially disappointed - both of my classmates at Hampton had been placed in California. Turns out, I was exactly where I needed to be. The summer of 2011 was the best one of my life. The friends and experiences I gained were priceless and truly changed the way I look at the world. I learned about everything from sales and marketing to sushi (I had an intense four-week addiction), beer (I.P.A's and Belgian Ales), dancing (house music will never grow on me), fried eggs on burgers (delish), kayaking (tiring), barre intensity classes, "bromances," hipsters and sustainable living. 12 hours away from home, it was my first time really on my own - my own apartment, my own bills to pay and my own new experiences. I can truly say I lived each day of that summer to the fullest.


Lessons Learned:
- Making it in corporate America is just as much about "fitting in" as it is about standing out in regards to the caliber of your work.
- Building relationships (with the right people) is key.
- When you're scared or nervous to do something, go towards the fear instead of running from it. For example, if you're scared or uncomfortable to meet everyone in your work area, make yourself as uncomfortable as possible by introducing yourself to at least one new person each day. Don't hide in the bathroom with your lunch tray on your lap. A smile can easily hide your discomfort or fear.
- If you're comfortable, you're not growing.


Living Single
I won't lie, it was rough at first. After being in a relationship for more than six years with the same person, it was hard to walk away; but there comes a time when a person needs to be alone. Whether it's for personal reflection or personal joy, being solo can help to provide a perspective that you wouldn't have otherwise had. I've learned a lot in my four month of single-dom and I can honestly say that I'm better for it. I know I'm being vague and I'm not going to go into too much detail because I don't ascribe to putting that type of detail out there for just anybody, but here's a few takeaways.


Lessons Learned:
- You can't ask for what what you're not willing to give. If you want a southern gentleman, ask yourself "am I the epitome of a southern woman?" If you want someone who's respectful, ask yourself "do I respect myself?" To get even deeper, if you want someone to love you, ask yourself "do I love myself?"
- You need to be whole on your own before you can be whole with someone else.
- Being vulnerable is risky business, choose wisely who you're going to let your guard down for.
- Don't risk a friendship for #thethirst.


Other Milestones:
- Seeing my brother play in nationally-televised football games on TV and in person.
- Growing my business (I have an intern!)
- Participating in the MS Women's Conference.
- Founding the Scripps Howard Student Executive Board.
- Helping to sow seeds for the Southeast Raleigh Alumni Association.
- Being selected as a Google Ambassador for Hampton.
- Going to California for the first time!
- Living life as a Howard student for five days!
- Going to #GHOE for the first time.
- Seeing Lauryn Hill in concert ... twice!!!
- Seeing the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial .. twice!!!
- Passing math class.
- Watching my little cousins experience Disney for the first time.


And so much more! Thanks to everyone who inspired me and taught me something about myself this year (too many to name). Can't wait to make new memories.

Starting off Strong [Day 1]

I woke up at 8:30 this morning and headed straight for the treadmill. It's only Day 1 but I've already determined a couple of key concepts to not forget throughout this 70-day journey. That's right: I've decided to set a timeline and my end date lands on the first day of spring break. Creating a timeline is one of my key concepts to include in my personal plan which I've decided to title: Getting Right in 2012 (#GR2012). So, here's my developing philosophy which will determine my success during the next 70 days.

I just mentioned creating a timeline and schedule. It's not that I'll completely stop after the next 70 days - I'll just reassess and readjust my plan (just in time for Lent). This will give me something to work toward and look forward to while I'm pushing through. After all, my dad always said, "You can do anything for a little while." With the timeline, I can anticipate days that I may need a break (such as our vacation to Disney tomorrow or 100 Days til Graduation Day at school).

Another important initial step is to set clear goals. This doesn't just include how much I want to lose and by when - it should include reasons why. I'm still working on developing these goals for my personal journal, but my main reason is to gain a sense of self-control before I embark on the real world after college. If I start good habits now, I'll just be maintaining them when I go solo.

Evade the hunger monster at all costs, because once he emerges it's a wrap. My self-resolve is only so strong when it comes to food. Therefore, everything I worked for is subject to be thrown away with the foil wrapper of one cheddar-style Cook Out burger. This explains my bad eating habits in the first place, because at school I usually wait (unintentionally) to eat until about 6 p.m. So once 6 p.m. rolls around I'm craving something starchy, cheesy and definitely greasy. And not to mention the stress of the day leading me to a fruity cocktail at an Abuelos Happy Hour. If I can maintain my control and peace of mind by including breakfast into my day and keeping healthy snacks and a motivational mantra at hand, I should be able to hold the hunger monster at bay. I don't eat a lot, it's just what I eat and how often I eat that is the issue.

With the help of Google Docs, I'm going to record, record, record. Everything from my mood each day, to what goes in my mouth to the amount of exercise I accomplished. This will help me to stay on track and monitor what I'm doing over the couse of the journey.

It's unrealistic to say that there won't be bad days (sick days, running late days). But I've promised myself that I'll decide if it's a bad day once in the gym. If I can make it to the gym before I decide if I can make it through another workout or not, then I'm much more likely to push through than if I was deciding in bed. If the day really is too "off" to dedicate even 30 min. on the treadmill, then I'll turn around once I'm in the gym.

Positive self-talk is key. Our biggest critic, distractor and enemy is our own mind. We tell ourselves, "Is this thirty minutes on the treadmill even doing anything in the long run?" "I've never been able to do this successfully before, what makes this time different?" "What's one day off really going to hurt?" Our minds can be toxic to our success. That's why I'm developing a mantra and vision board that will keep me going when my negative inner voice emerges. I'm also planning to record the negative thoughts to keep track of them. After all, once I confront and address the thoughts head-on, what do I really have holding me back? I was encouraged by a Huffington Post article that I read yesterday. It emphasizes the power of self-talk towards inner peace which, for me, is the ultimate goal.

One of the most important concepts, in my opinion, is to share the journey. That's what I'm planning to do through my blog and by partnering up. From gym partners to cafeteria partners to inspirational coaches to my blog readers, I know that I'll need all the help I can get. As much as it may annoy us, people hold us accountable for what we say we want. I plan to involve as many people as I can to keep me in check when I start to slack.

69 days to go. This will be a piece of (low-cal) cake.

'Twas the Night before Christmas ...

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house ... every creature was stirring, so I began to rouse (definition: stir, wake up - only word I could think of lol).

It's 1:53 a.m. and Christmas feels different this year. One of my brothers is out of town to play in a bowl game - the first Christmas we're not all under the same roof. My other brother is up watching television in his room. My youngest brother is waiting anxiously in his bed with his eyes squeezed shut, in case my dad peaks his head in.


Me?

I just came from getting a not-so-discreet midnight snack in the kitchen. Afraid to scare my brother, I tiptoed around in the dark (knowing good and well how clumsy I am), loudly crashing into walls, doors and chairs downstairs. If my youngest brother does still have some faith in Santa Claus, he probably thinks he's arranging gifts under the tree right now.

Christmas feels different this year. Not even fifteen years ago, I was huddled under a blanket with my little brothers scared to death of getting a glimpse of this giant intruder clad in red. That was when Santa came to my house. My classmates would always tease me for believing in him, but inside, I laughed at them. Yeah, their parents put gifts under the tree, but at my house? Oh no, we were one of the few houses that Santa visited. Why? Because we were believers. Fierce believers.

Deep inside, I think I still am. I believe in the spirit of Santa and everything that he represents - giving selflessly, family, faith, appreciation, etc. But I always knew that once that glimmer of faith began to fade, that's when he would stop making house calls and parents would have to step in - hence the reason why so many of my skeptical elementary school classmates didn't know him. I don't know that my youngest brother's faith is as strong as ours was. But then, who can blame him? With a house full of twenty-something year old brothers and sisters who stay up late into the night on Christmas Eve, you'd start to doubt too. Just last year he would beg all of us to go lay down around 10:30 p.m. This year my dad had to force him to go lay down.

Times are changing in the Moore household. But I guess change isn't always bad. We're growing up and one of the blessing of growth is that you get to experience being more of a giver than a receiver ... and giving feels so much more rewarding than the former. I just hope Santa comes to visit my kids - the concept of unwavering faith is the greatest gift I can give them.

Merry Christmas!

Death over Designer

So, the newest edition of Air Jordans came out last night at Midnight and it was amazing to see the twitpics of people standing in line outside in the cold all across the country for these coveted kicks. It was even more astounding to wake up this morning and read about the violence and fatalities that occurred as people tried to get their hands on these shoes. In Atlanta, a rowdy crowd broke a door down to get into the mall. Across the country in Seattle, officers were "forced" to mace a group of about twenty over-overzealous shoe-buyers. In Richmond, a shot was fired as crowds broke windows to get into the mall.

How would you feel if your loved one died over a pair of shoes?

According to J. Cole, that's "death over designer." Me? I just can't wrap my head around it. It's amazing to think about our fixation on material things, but when we think about our commitment to other, seemingly more important concepts like voting or taking care of ourselves, we seem to not be as passionate.

Actor Lamond Rucker (the sexy sheriff/Jill Scott's better man in "Why Did I Get Married") came to Hampton a few weeks ago to talk about HIV/AIDS prevention. Bruh was deeper than I had anticipated but one thing he said really stuck with me:

"Your generation is quicker to spend their last or take care of material things than they are to take care of themselves."

While he was referencing safe sex, I immediately thought about where I had witnessed this in my life. Whether it's my ten-year old brother's best friend who places his expensive shoes in a shoe box with tissue inside to change into less expensive shoes when they want to go outside in play, or the classmate who hand-washes his Mercedes every other weekend to make sure it stays shiny, I can definitely attest to witnessing this. 

But then I turned the mirror on myself. How many times had I missed taking my medicine in a month compared to how many times I had missed a hair appointment? The truth was shameful. Since then I haven't missed it one time. 

We have to start taking care of ourselves, y'all. There's nothing wrong with wanting nice things but we need to make sure our interior is as fresh as our exterior.

It's Not the MS ...

One of the main reasons I don't like associating with other people who have MS or reading about MS is because it always gets me unnecessarily paranoid. I understand that MS can cause a lot of different symptoms and I understand that personally, my consistent symptom is fatigue. MS is different for everybody and someone else's symptoms don't necessarily relate to mine.

This morning, the MS Society tweeted a blog post from a woman who said that MS makes her coughs last far longer than normal. She said that many people don't realize it but MS can affect respiratory functioning. I couldn't help but think back to about a month ago when I developed bronchitis and was coughing for about three weeks. The woman described vicious coughing attacks in which strangers had to ask her if she needed them to call for help.

Did I experience that? Heck no!

Most likely my cough was brought on the wacky weather in Virginia and it lasted so long because I stopped taking my prescribed antibiotics on day three when my cough seemed like it was subsiding. Just because I have MS doesn't mean every little thing that happens to me should be attributed to it.

My parents have been slightly salty with me because I've been so lazy since I've been home. My excuse? This semester was physically and emotionally draining. All I wanted was a few days to lay in the bed, watch Food Network, play The Sims and eat whatever I wanted. Instead, they became worried that my laziness and bad eating habits (I wanted Waffle House at 11 p.m. one night) was being caused by a deeper, subconscious depression that even I couldn't detect. A depression most likely caused by the fact that I have MS.

Look, people. I have MS. I take an injection every morning when I wake up. Is it annoying? Definitely. Am I suffering from it? Not at all. Am I depressed by it? Not at all. My cold lasted three weeks because I didn't take it seriously. I lay around for three days straight when I got home for break because I was drained and so happy to not have any urgent responsibilities at hand. I tried to eat in the middle of the night because I'm in college and that's what I'm used to doing.

Bottom line? It's not the MS; trust me - it's just me.

Stepping into Brand New

As the new year approaches, I can't help but look forward to the changes it will bring. 2012 will be a big year for me - graduating from college then moving on to God knows where. With all of these factors due to change around me, I am anxious to commit to change on the inside, as well. From health to money management to relationships, I am vowing to get all the way up out of my own way in the new year. A wise classmate by the name of Mickey Ivey once told me, "The only thing holding you back is you. Therefore, instead of placing blame on other people and factors - I'm turning the mirror on myself to get a real hard look. In 2012, it'll be mind over matter. Here's a few steps I've outlined to make realistic but completely transformative changes next year.

Baby Steps
It's definitely unrealistic to think that I will be completely brand new when I wake up on January 1 - I'm not Charlie Sheen. Which is why I'll be starting with baby steps - slight adjustments in my day-to-daylife that I can commit to and add to once they are mastered. For example, exercising twice-a-week for one hour. Eating out no more than three times a week (as opposed to seven). Praying and making my bed each morning (because in the words of a wise sage by the name of Moose: when your bed is made, your mind is made). By this time next year, these baby steps will have grown into adult leaps that involve working out up to five times a week, eating out once-a-week and maintaining my zen at all times despite outside stressors.

One Step at a Time
After a lot of thought and consideration, I have determined that my lack of attention and focus within the past year or so is due to constant distraction. I'm overloaded with unnecessary responsibilities at school, my television is always on and I'm staring at my Twitter timeline for the majority of my day. Who wouldn't find it hard to focus on what they need to do? While most of my peers may have adapted to the increased technological distraction that surrounds us today, I have had an extremely difficult time catching up. Instead of attributing my short and limited attention span to mental and physical changes (M.S.) - I'm convinced it has to be the constant inundation of technology, which I didn't have to deal with to this extent just a few years ago in middle or high school. Limiting my intake of these habitual distractors will help me to stay focused and accomplish what I need to do. For example, by writing this blog on a notepad before logging onto the Internet or turning on my television, I was able to finish it in 30 minutes. I've decided that there's nothing wrong with not being able to multi-task - I just need to understand that about myself and adjust accordingly.

Step Out of My Own Way
The only thing that's stopping me from being who and what I want to be is me - which is a beautiful but frustrating idea. If I tell myself I am too tired to get up in the morning, then guess what? I'm sleeping in (and probably missing class). If I tell myself I'd rather eat at Abuelos, Cheddars or Waffle House instead of eating in a salad in the cafeteria, then guess what? I'm eating out. If I tell myself I'm not focused enough to finish my book and to wait until the morning, then guess what? It's not getting finished. I guess the scope of that is what's scary and frustrating. It's the fact that the world could be at your finger tips ... you just have to untie your own wrists and reach for it.

Another wise man by the name of Kanye West once said, "We at war with terrorism, racism - but most of all, we at war with ourselves." Welp, I'm officially at war with myself and I'm suiting up - I just hope Jesus continues to walk with me.

*Glad I'm back? You can expect more frequent updates soon regarding my personal battle with health, relationships (lots of juice there) and finishing college/graduating to a new chapter. Stick with me! I'll need the encouragement.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

I have big dreams for my life and since I was diagnosed with MS, it's like I can hear a clock ticking each second of each day as it passes. Another day gone; time I can never get back. I've always been afraid of time. The present becomes a memory so quickly and we spend so much time wondering "what next?" and "I can't wait for..." that the present quickly becomes a blur rather than a moment we took full advantage of.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

For me, the whole "when I grow I want to be..." has become much more present tense and no longer wishful thinking. Right now, I want to be a community health advocate, a college graduate, I want my master's degree, I want to work for a high-profile PR agency, I want to be an entrepreneur, I want to be an author, I want to be a freelance writer, I want to sing, I want to travel and I want to live my life to the fullest. Right now. Everyday I wake up and think to myself, what can I do today that will get me closer to these plans? With that in mind, almost everything I do is purposeful.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Over the past year, I have been making strides to bring my entrepreneurial ambitions to life. My company, Footprint Social Media, will assist small businesses with social media branding through full-scale analysis, strategy, development and finally, consultation/implementation. With the website for my business set to launch this week and potential clients on the horizon, I'm getting closer and closer to this dream.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

While this dream has been at the forefront of my mind for the past year, I have also been taking steps to accomplish other dreams. I have finished a novel that I began in high school and am hoping to get it reviewed, edited and hopefully published on an e-network within the next year. I have started applying for various internships and opportunities that have the ability to bring me closer to my dreams of working for a PR agency and becoming a freelance writer/blogger. After hearing this, so many people ask, "What's the rush?" Well, for me, the future is NOW.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Because of MS, so much is unknown when it comes to my health and what I'll look like in 10, 20, 30+ years. Will I be able to walk? Will I be able to talk? Will I be able to hug my family and friends? While I pray on this often and have been persistently taking my medication everyday, I can't help but wonder about the future and feel like I need to start preparing now. If my health and functioning does dramatically decline over the next few years, I want to have accomplished the goals I had set out to accomplish and not have wasted any valuable time. The clock is ticking and this is a race I do not plan to lose.

A Pat on the Back

A few posts ago I wrote about the verbal-lashing I received from my MS-mentor about skipping out on my daily injections. Although we had only met and spoken over the phone twice, she talked to me as if we had known each other forever and scolded me like she really cared. At the time I was shocked, but it turns out that the shock was exactly what I needed to get back on track.

My MS-mentor had suggested that I make a new personal rule. "Don't brush your teeth until you do your injection," she told me. "Make that your rule." As someone who would never leave the house before brushing her teeth, this rule has really worked for me. It's actually worked so well that I now associate brushing my teeth with giving myself an injection. If I somehow forget about this rule when I wake up, I suddenly remember as I walk to the bathroom with my toothbrush. I am so grateful for this, because it has allowed me to better keep up with the injections as well as my vitamins and weekly medications.

I feel like taking care of myself has allowed me to better trust myself. My mentor told me that you have to give your body a chance to fight against this disease with all its might. By giving my body this fair chance, I feel more secure and less worried about the future. Along with the injections and daily vitamins, I have been able to maintain a positive attitude. With this recipe for success, I think I can finally start patting myself on the back. Before I do that, however, I think I should call my mentor back and thank her for getting me back on track. Sometimes we all need a little shock.

Young Role Models Embrace their Kinky Locks

While many are criticizing the current "going natural" movement as a fad/phase, I am loving the fact that we are gaining so many young role models that are not only comfortable with their kinky-curly locks, they are LOVING them! Last week, Sesame Street debuted a new star with an awesome message to share. This little black girl is passionately in love with her hair and its versatility (as seen in the video), and wants the world to know! In popular culture, rising 9-year old star/phenomenon, Willow Smith, also debuted her first video for her head-banging hit "Whip my Hair" last week. In the video, Willow whips her braids, cotton candy afro, and "bantu knots" around with more pride than many older women can understand.

Young African American girls are gaining so many role models to look to for self-esteem and a positive self-image. With young women such as this cute little chocolate-y Sesame Street star, Willow Smith and Disney's Princess Tiana, I am extremely optimistic about the state of young black girls. Accepting that we don't have to have bone straight or bleached blond hair to be beautiful is a step that many are still struggling to take. This younger generation has not only taken this step, they have gone a step further and embraced what they have already been blessed with. Shoutout to their parents for instilling this at a young age! I think it's time the rest of us take note and do the same. These girls prove that you can be a role model at ANY age.

For the tear-jerking story behind the Sesame Street song, click here.
To view the Willow Smith video, click here.

Watch the extremely cute integration of the Sesame Street girl and the "Whip my Hair" song here!

A Sign from Above

If you know me well, you'll know what I mean when I tell you I'm a sucker for signs. I see signs everywhere. In the random occurrences of the day, I find meaning for life in the simplest and most complex situations and people. Whether it's something as small as a butterfly crossing my path to remind me of that "life goes on," or as big as being lost and led home by a school bus that says (written in the dirt residue on the side) "follow me" (both of these occurrences have happened); it's a meaning that may tell me to go left, to go right, up or down. It may tell me the purpose of a situation or the reasoning behind a life-changing event. Either way, while this may sound superstitious, it's these signs that I consciously (and subconsciously) live my life by.

I met my most recent sign when I joined the Gospel Choir a few weeks ago. Right after the very first rehearsal, we joined hands and the choir president asked if there were any prayer requests. My sign raised her hand (let's call her Jasmine). Jasmine told the group that her mother suffers from MS and hasn't been doing well since Jasmine left home. She asked for our prayers. Immediately after practice I approached her and told her that I also have MS and would be praying for her mom. She looked at me in awe. "But you're so young," she said, obviously confused. I could feel her staring at me as I left practice.

Every practice, she would talk about her mother and tell details that sometimes made me uncomfortable. "My mom has really been having trouble walking lately. Please pray for her..." "My mom went to the doctor last week and they found more lesions on her brain. Please pray for her..." "I don't know how many of you know this, but my mom has to give herself injections everyday for her MS and she's really been struggling with it lately because her hands are shaky. I think she's going to have to get a nurse to give her the shots. Please pray for her..."

While I did continue to pray for Jasmine and her mother, I couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed by her openness about the disease and uncomfortable about the details she gave. No one in the room knew I, too, had MS and I didn't want them to judge the disease from only hearing Jasmine's sad accounts. Plus, hearing her talk about her mother's struggles did ignite small fears in my own mind. Could that be me one day?

Following each practice, Jasmine would make her way over to me to ask me how I'm feeling. I would always tell her (enthusiastically) that I'm fine and would continue to pray for her mom. Each time she seemed skeptical. Outside of practice, I could feel Jasmine's surprise when she saw me MC'ing for an open mic event, working at my dorm and hanging up posters around campus. She seemed awed by my activity and confused by my optimism.

Before realizing that Jasmine was a bright, flashing sign in my life, I asked God for guidance last week. I've been feeling pretty overwhelmed with all that I'm doing this semester and of all my activities, the Gospel Choir seemed to be the expendable factor. However, while it does require a large commitment, it is one of the things I have been enjoying most this semester. With the choir dues being collected for the last time on Thursday, I asked God to please show me a sign to tell me what I should do.

I walked into practice on Thursday, prepared for it to be my last time singing with this group. I walked in an hour late, expecting to have to wait outside since practice is usually in full-swing by then. Instead, as I walked up the stairs to the practice area I hear someone's loud sobs over the solemn hum of the choir. Everyone was standing and crowded around someone in the middle of the room. I take my place amongst the group, confused. I cannot see who everyone is surrounding so I just bow my head and begin to hum along with the rest of the choir. Suddenly the crowd parts and I see none other than Jasmine. Her face is red and damp with tears as she is overcome with emotion.

My heart drops as my stomach sinks. I'm paralyzed with alarm. Ignoring etiquette, I whisper to the girl beside me. "Please tell me nothing happened to her mom..."

My neighbor whispers back. "Oh no. She stopped rehearsal to come forward and tell the choir how much we've meant to her since she's come to college. She said with everything that her mom is going through, we've given her the support she needed to stay strong. She said there's someone in the choir who has really affected and inspired her through their strength. She wouldn't say who but she said this person has really been a blessing and given her hope that everything with her mom will be fine."

As I listen to this, I make sudden eye contact with Jasmine and I knew. This person who had affected her was me. As she was being enveloped in hugs, Jasmine smiled at me and mouthed "thank you." I immediately felt tears welling up in my eyes. "Okay God," I said in my head. "I get it."

After everyone consoled her, I approached Jasmine and before I could say a word she wrapped her arms around my neck and sobbed. I was so shocked I didn't know what to say. As I finally pulled away, I whispered, "I'm really glad I met you." In an attempt to respond, Jasmine let out another loud sob and nodded.

Looks like this choir is where I'm supposed to be for now.

Getting Back on Track

I don't know what's going on with me. I haven't been doing my injections for two-weeks now and I can't really blame it on forgetfulness. To be honest, I've been avoiding it. I'd gotten so used to being "normal" again over the summer, when I was off medication for two-months, that it made it even harder for me to pick up and begin again. This medication has to be injected every day and it leaves me feeling sore for the rest of the day (and sometimes week). It's a pain (literally), so you can't blame me for not wanting to do it...right?

Wrong. This is my life that I'm trying to save and I really am ridiculous for not taking it seriously. I can't give myself any credit.

Unfortunately, this fact didn't dawn on me until today. When I first got on this new medication in August, I requested that the medication company have a mentor with MS contact me for moral support and additional information. A 55 year old woman contacted me and told me about how she had been diagnosed at a time when there was no medication for MS. She joined the trial for the medication in the 90's, and there was not turning back for her. She also told me about three different occasions when she had experienced episodes that left her wheelchair-bound and unable to feed herself. Luckily, she recovered but she believes it had a lot to do with her persistence in administering the medication.

So, along with avoiding the injections, I had also been avoiding this woman's calls. I didn't expect her to keep in touch with me, so when she called once every two weeks, I was overwhelmed. I'm tired of being reminded that I have MS. After missing yet another injection this morning, I was surprised when the mentor called me from a different number this afternoon. She told me she had been worried about me and wanted to check-in (sweet, right?). I was flattered and reluctantly admitted to her that I hadn't been administering my injections as I should.

After admitting this, my mentor proceeded to lay me out. She asked me what was going on...did I care about my future? Did I care enough to give my body a chance to fight this disease? She told me again what she had been through and told me that this very well could happen to me as well if I don't get serious.

"It's time for you to GROW UP, Jessica," she said. "We have to do things we don't want to do in life, and this is one of them. Do you want to wake up one day, unable to walk, see or feed yourself, and realize you never gave yourself a fair chance?"

She shocked me. I had only spoken to this woman once but her compassion and anger surprised and flattered me. This tough love was exactly what I needed. I got off the phone tearful and angry at myself for not taking this seriously. I know the risks, have experienced scary symptoms (not nearly as severe as this woman's, but with the potential to be) and had proceeded as if I didn't care. I raced back to my room and did my injection immediately, promising myself I would do better and probably get counseling soon if my attitude doesn't change.

I'm going to do better and start getting serious about my life. I know things can get overwhelming but my health should obviously be a first priority. She recommended that I make a rule that, no matter what, I would not brush my teeth in the morning until I did my injection. Knowing that I would never dare to leave the dorm without brushing my teeth, I think this will help me prioritize.

I fell of track a little, but I feel like this woman calling me was God's gift to me today. She was the only one that could have given me that message and made it sink in. And although I've never met her, she helped me to get back on track.