I'm Going Back to Bloggin.....

It's almost been a year since my last crack at blogging as I pontificated on spirit of the season. Here we are 10 months later and as this Christmas season rolls around I realize I have much to be thankful for and thus much to blog about. As someone who's always loved to read and write, I thought blogging would come so naturally to me.

I can sit and write a paper, a poem, a speech in no time with very little effort, but I over the last few years as I've tried to return to blogging I've found it very difficult to stick to and succeed at. Four years ago I had a very successful blog called Shanellieoo in Progress. I updated regularly, corresponded with followers and subscribers, developed relationships, changed layouts, updated photos, and truly poured into the process for the sake of my readership....but it was also for the sake of me. At the time, 2005 to be exact, I had reached a point where I was fed up with my weight, was soon to graduate with my undergraduate degree, was newly married (yes the wedding weight came back....from somewhere, can't say exactly where...okay I can), and I was in a state of total "me-ness".

Then came grad school and while the decision to leave a full time salaried position and pursue grad school was definitely an act of "me-ness", it was a transition that resulted in me sacrificing myself, my time, date night with the hubby, quality time with friends, sleep, portion control...all those things that inevitably meant pouring into me..."me-ness". And if going out with friends, sleep, or counting points for the sake of weight loss and health fell down on the totem pole, WHERE was blogging supposed to fit in? Right. So, grad school done, dream job acquired, sleeping in optional, gym membership purchased (AND gym visits scheduled), tracker in purse I have gotten back to the much needed state of "me-ness". Does "me-ness" = selfishness? Nope, "me-ness" is simply acting on the knowledge and belief that I matter just as much as anyone or anything else does and that I'm entitled to take a minute, or an hour, or three hours, and pour into myself. And that's the plan....

Christmas Time in Here....

You know it's Christmas when:

People damn near ram into your car in the parking lot to swoop into a parking space before you.

Those same people smile and nod at you in the store because of the Christmas spirit.

When all of the parking lots are full. Everywhere.

When all of Lifetime's movies have the same plot, only set in the month of December and instead of the movies starring Delta Burke, they feature cute funny blondes like Jenny McCarthy.

When every weekend is filled with parties.

When the office Administrative Assistant wears a Christmas sweater to work everyday....even when it's 90 degrees out.

When A Christmas Story is on TBS all day on Saturday. And Sunday.

When my weight watchers meetings are filled with people I've never seen before.

When me and mom are headed to see Stevie Wonder.

Add yours:

A funny kind of proud

So yesterday, history was made yes? To everyone, this milestone means something different. To some, it means their hopes become reality. For some it means their dreams came true. For some it means their preferred candidate didn't win. For some it means change is coming. For some it means anything is possible. For me it means an end to everything I ever thought was "just the way things are."

As an African American, I don't think this gives me the right to call it the Black House, I don't think this means I won't get followed the next time I enter that dinky little fake ass plus sized Forever 21 knock off store that I go in sometimes for cheap sweaters. I don't think this means that globally, our America has progressed to "where we should be"....I'm not the eternal cock-eyed optimist in that way. What I do believe however, is that there is indeed a dawning of something inexplicable. There is something remarkable about being moved to tears by politics...being moved to tears by public events not tragic or devastating to others.....(well, according to the check-out lady at my preferred grocery market it is a tragedy (she didnt think I could hear her when she told a frequent customer in front of me how "dissapointed she is that something like this could happen").....needless to say I'll wait behind 50 penny-paying, expired coupon using, discount catfood buying grannies before I ever step foot in her line again - my choice). Digressing.

One of few points I move to make is, African Americans (and many other ethnic minority groups for that matter) have a collective identity. It's not us....it's we. (Disclaimer, disclaimer, disclaimer - I know there is temptation to take one thing someone says as law on behalf of an entire group, but this is just one woman's views...thanks kids). But when Halle and Denzel win an Academy Award, we all feel like we win an academy award. When we find out a man who's been picking people off from a distance with a sniper riffle is Black, we collectively cringe in shame and shock and when a Black man becomes the president of the United States just 50 short years after (50...think about it....about as long as some of your parents have been on the earth...NOT long at all) Blacks were prohibeted from marrying Whites....Just 50 short years after women being denied the right to vote....Just 50 short years after needing a LAW passed to be able to access schools that afforded everyone an equal shot at a quality education and thus quality facilities....Just 50 years after the harsh reality of a differnt America....we celebrate....Collectively, as we feel we've all touched something previously thought to forever be beyond our grasps.

Do all Black people feel this way? No. Do some White people, and Latinos, and Middle Eastern, and African, and Asian, and other people feel this way? Absolutely. We've all touched something we could never imagine gracing our fingertips, and it feels like nothing before. It feels like hope. It feels like the next time I talk to someone in person that I speak to on the phone first, they won't greet me in shock with, "you're LLENAHS? Oh my, you're so articulate." (As opposed to what? A poodle?) It feels like the next time someone outside of my race is attempting to connect with me he won't say, "Oh It's cool, on my football team back in high school they used to call me Wigger," (White + Nigger) It feels like the next time I'm in Woodranch and I borrow BBQ sauce from the White man at the next table and return it, he won't push it to the edge and ask the server for a new bottle. It feels like these things, but it doesn't believe like these things. And may never be these things.

For my skeptics, or my eternal hopefuls, or my people who just HATE discomfort and meeting truths and owning their priveleges I know you may be squirming, or have already tuned out by now and that's fine. But to those of you who know, or care, these are my, and so many other people's realities. Does that make anyone in particular the "bad guys?" Nope. But you have to beg my pardon when I don't subscribe to, "Now there are no more excuses." Excuses for what? For captivity and 400 years of enslavement? Maybe. Maybe not. And by excuses do you mean reasons? Justifications? Allowances? Or complaints you're tired of hearing? Probably. Probably not. I don't know what change he'll bring to the White House, or to our economy, but I do know he's brought about a change for what is feasible, what is plausible, and what is possible. He's made me believe in something I'd never put much stock in....America. And while that may anger some, especially those who subscribe to the love it or leave it philosophy I might argue that I don't think I was ever supposed to be here in the first place. I will also argue that this country, your country, my country, has participated in acts that are not worthy of your support. No matter how far removed we are....50 years or 100 years (both, not very long in the scheme of time) are enough to erase memories of theft, enslavement, or genocide....sorry. And in that way, I agree with our First Lady Elect. I am proud of this country. I'm proud of the strides taken. I'm proud of the eyes opened. I'm proud of the chance taken. And I'm hopeful for whatever further change might be on the horizon.

So how old am I?

Yesterday, I went to LA High to pick up my baby sister....from her SATs!!!! OMG! How old am I when I VIVIDLY remember going to take my OWN SATs....like it was yesterday! (Extremely tired and COMPLETELY unprepared as I'd been out late the night before at homecoming - where I LOST the race for Queen btw, spinning across and then flying off of the freeway with four screaming cheerleaders in my rented car, and then spending the night at my then crush's - now husband's - house and staying up all night talking about my near death experience. Yes, really good story, I'll tell you sometime). But I remember it vividly none the less. So how the hell old am I when the little sister who was 8 and missing teeth - lots of teeth - at the time just took her own SATs yesterday?

In honor of debate night!

This is a helarious vlog done by Diddy - thought I'd share in honor of debate night! Me and the girls are getting together tonight to watch over dinner...and of course wine....everyone has their coping mechanism - here's Diddy's.

a rabid creature is holding me hostage

So an age old debate in my house is that I REFUSE to take out the trash. That's DATs job, a man's job. Now, before you go all woman's lib on me, I was raised in a house of all women. My mother was a single parent raising two girls. Her mother was a single parent raising two boys and a girl. In that house, the two boys took out the trash. In the house in which I was raised, I may as well have been a boy because I took out trash morning noon and night. (My mom *dramatization - rabid squirrel may or may not have red glowing eyes

has a thing about odors and trash causes odors, thus out with the trash......all of it, any time, any amount) I don't live with my mother anymore, so trash is now sis's job. Oh well, sucks for her.

But I vowed, when I finally started shacking up with some guy, HE was taking out the trash. Daily, sometimes several times daily I might add. So yes, I have unfortunately inherited my mother's freakish sense of smell (I also can hear and see freakishly well). So I walk into the kitchen this morning all set to make that breakfast I was telling you about and I IMMEDIATELY smell the rank coming out of the trash. The VERY trash DAT didn't take out last night after dinner. Phew. I almost pass out, but I manage to pick up the whole damn can and put it outside of the door. Terribly tacky yes, but no one can really see and I really don't give a damn ESPECIALLY as far as my home's odor is concerned.

So I'm all set to give DAT a good talking to when he gets home but later in the day I have to go outside to throw something away. I open the door and there's trash EVERYWHERE and holes in the bag. I look around and there's a rabid creature at the bottom of the stairs looking at me and aparantly waiting for me to go back in the house because as soon as I scream and run, I look out the window and he's managed to scurry his mangy ass back up to my door to finish his shopping. I tap on the glass and he stops, looks at me and turns back to his business. So far today he's come and gone as he's pleased. And DAT has been yelled (CAPLOCK texts) and I have to run to the market, but in the meantime I'm being held hostage by this rabid creature and dinner will have to wait.

No I'm not bringing the can in the house for two reason. One, the shit stinks. Two, now it's got creature germs on it and if you think I dont do odors, you have NO idea how I feel about germs...

Passion runs deep

Isn't it great when you find your passion in life? Your calling? I know I've found mine within the world of Student Affairs and with each new experience I gain under my belt, I love it more and more. I love my students, I love retreats (ESPECIALLY when they're over and I can look back on them. I'm not a roughing it kind of girl, but a good weekend long retreat here and there is always good). And I love conferences where students come together and further their interests!

We held the C&OR Conference on Saturday and because it is hosted by my office, my supervisor asked that I present one (or more) workshops. I chose to lead a workshop on Diversity Awareness within Campus and your Organization and I also lead a Forum for Black Clubs & Orgs. This was my true area of stress - I didn't know if any of the Black/African American student leaders would show up, find it useful, participate, engage, or stay in the forum for that matter. My supervisor was supposed to join me and stay for moral support, but ended up not being able to break away from prepping for her own workshop, so I was on my own.....and LOVED IT! The students sat in a circle and I'd written my four discussion points on butcher paper around the room. I asked everyone to gravitate to the discussion point they were most drawn to and just write. This was perfect in allowing us to facilitate discussion. EVERYONE shared, contributed, acknowledged one another, waited their turn, agreed or disagreed respectfully, and fed off of one another's engergy. Of course 50 minutes in not enough for student leaders to diagnose what they feel to be their biggest challeneges, let alone resolve them together, and that was the biggest dissapointment of the workshop.

The best part was afterwards - reading my presenter evaluations! Everyone wanted more, more time, more forums, more togetherness and opportunities to bridge gaps within their community of Black student leaders. It was amazing. From the best part stems the next part - that I've been given the go-ahead by my department to host a Black Clubs and Orgs Forum monthly to help these student leaders bridge their gaps, facilitate discussion and provide opportunities for networking and collaborative programming. I sent the email out yesterday letting those in attendance know and I've been getting awesome feedback from the students! It's awesome.

This is how I know I've found my passion and it runs deep. Here I am, a 2nd year grad student who literally, could not and should not be squeezing ONE MORE THING onto my plate, but I dont even care. I want to do this for these students and fill this void. I love it.