The Never Married Divorcee

"There is so much about my fate that I cannot control, but other things do fall under the jurisdiction. I can decide how I spend my time, whom I interact with, whom I share my body and life and money and energy with. I can select what I can read and eat and study. I can choose how I'm going to regard unfortunate circumstances in my life-whether I will see them as curses or opportunities. I can choose my words and the tone of voice in which I speak to others. And most of all, I can choose my thoughts."

— Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat Pray Love

I had everything planned out.

I could tell you line by line what I wanted to do with my life- become a successful journalist, business owner, wife and mother.

At age 27, I am still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. 

For so long my happiness directly correlated with my career. That’s where I sought approval and acceptance. And trust me, when my work life is in the toilet, so goes my self-esteem and my health. It defines me.

When it comes to love I am so mechanical:

Girl meets Guy.

Guy dates Girl. 

Girl becomes girlfriend. 

Time passes. 

Proposal. 

Ring. 

Marriage. 

And, if you’re lucky, there won’t be a divorce.

What of love? It’s not that important in the grand scheme of things. I mean, falling in love is like driving drunk—some people live to tell about it, and for others, well, you wished they never got on the road to begin with. 

The uncertainty of it all is a huge turn off. I'm more interested in finding a good friend, great sex, and trust-- rather than feeling love. I mean, if it happens with my good pipe-laying friend well that’s great. Still, I find that love is non-essential, like most government employees. 

My family lives on the other side of the country. I left them there to pursue that career that I am not sure I am interested in anymore.

Like Liz, I am at a point in my life where I need to let go, and live.

This year, I decided to divorce my expectations and my controlling ways. Normally, people would call it “doing me” but that’s not appropriate for me since doing me has gotten me in this state of unrest. Instead of focusing on my career and finding solace in pushing paper, or making career decisions, or by winning the approval of my bosses, I am ready to focus on really living.

I'm taking swimming lessons. Turns out I am a natural. For the rest of the year, I’ll continue to take swimming lessons, and perhaps become a lifeguard. Focusing on my athleticism and releasing my inner Olympian.

I’ll take cooking lessons.  A class every month, basic knifing, sushi making, and preparing sauces.

This perhaps is the beginning of my life’s lesson:  My life is so much bigger and wider than a brief case.

We Nearly Lost Her

My best friend nearly died giving life to her healthy, happy daughter.

Millions of women give birth every single day without complications—but for Chelle, whoever’s above or us below had other plans.

She lost so much blood. Her brain swelled. She went unconscious. For one tumultuous week the doctors were unsure if she’d live, and even if she did she would suffer significant brain damage.

Of course, like the champ she is, she lived. But even as we speak she’s in intense physical therapy. She has to learn how to use her arms, hands, feet, and feed herself all over again. Her short-term goal was to see, hold and raise her baby.  Nearly a month after having her child, she finally was able to do so.

Can you imagine?

We’re talking about a 27-year-old vibrant black woman. She was voted intern of the year, she just completed her master’s.

She’s a woman, who was so excited about the next stage in her life. Bringing her daughter in this world, her love.

When I received the news my world was flipped upside down. Every sense of security I had vanished. I heard about things of this nature happening to others but rarely does it hit this close to home.

As soon as I could muscle up the money to purchase a plane ticket, I went to visit her in Los Angeles.

I just needed to be there. 

I thought I was going to lose her without being able to tell her how much I love her.

I needed her to know that I am always there, even when I am not. I was horrified at the thought of her daughter growing up and not knowing whom I am.

I spent three days visiting her, keeping her company, and enjoying those moments. Like old times, we laughed, exchanged gossip, and gave recent updates.

High blood pressure was the culprit behind all of Chelle's pain and suffering.

Chelle’s experience taught me one important lesson—we are not promised tomorrow.

Although the saying was drilled into me when I was younger, realizing my best friend was on the verge of leaving us young—etched it in my soul.

 Everyday I lived my life looking forward and rarely savoring the moments of today. Recently I decided I want to cherish my moments. 

Sometimes we take too much on. School, work, family, and relationships—should all be healthy.

This month I took the time to clean out my mental closet. Those who cause excess drama in my life I let them float on into the distance. I let other people’s problems be THEIR problems.

Many of us carry the weight of things we don’t even need to carry.  We worry about things we can’t control.  The remnants of such things show up in our health—we gain tons of weight, we lose tons of weight, and we experience anxiety attacks. Some of us get depressed, or easily agitated.

It’s not worth it.

There are beautiful things in life, live them.  

Best Father Around

Being fatherless, in my opinion, does not mean growing up in a single parent household. To me fatherlessness, means exactly that, there is an absence of a father. If your father was never home, had an addiction that devastated your family then to me you’re qualified to say you’re fatherless.  Or, like in the case of so many of us, our fathers were rarely or never there.

All I ever wanted from my dad was for him to call me on my birthday.

Out of all the days in the year, I believed his daughter’s birthday would be one that he’d never forget. Yet, he managed to “forget” year, after year, after year.

Due to my father’s absence I, like so many other women, was born with baggage.

I suffer from an unbalanced mistrust of men.

I can smell a no good dude a mile away.

But, I can’t always detect a good quality man. 

Like many of life’s wounds, I am slowly healing-- learning to let go, and let live.

My experiences have led me to strongly believe that all little girls need daddies.

Daughters often feel the absence of their fathers deeply. Angel Taylor belted these heartfelt words in a song about her father…

He took everything from us,

but he let us keep our fear.

He robbed the little picture called a family,

taken long ago, went away for so many years.

And it was as though

he took joy in listening to our tears.

And he would never apologize,

cause his pride was blinding.

Angel Taylor, Best Father Around, Album: Love Travels

…while Chrisette Michele sung these words to her dad, in her song “Your Joy.”

Cause no one loves me just like you do

And no one knows me just like you do

No one can compare to the way my eyes fit in yours

You'll always be my father

And I'll always be your joy

These are two different songs, two different messages, but their feelings for their fathers whether negative or positive are deep.

No matter what anyone says, fathers teach women two important things that a mother cannot teach their daughters.

1. How to treat a man
2. How a man should treat a woman

Fathers teach their daughters what men want by showing them their daily activities. Simple things like, knowing when your father comes home, he wants a little time for himself.  Or when the game is on, don’t bother him. We also learn from watching them interact with other people.

They teach us how we should be treated—that we shouldn’t be cheated on, lied to, or beat on. They teach us that a man’s love isn’t demonstrated by sex.

Teacher, teacher, please reach those girls in them videos

The little girls just broken Queens, confusing bling for soul

Danger, there's danger when you take off your clothes…

~Janelle Monae, Sincerely Jane, Metropolis: The Chase Suite

So many girls grow up not knowing who they are. Fathers help you learn your value. To them you’re the ultimate prize, and they teach you that.

Fathers protect their daughters­­– they may even be over protective. Not every guy is good enough for daddies little girl, and they’re right.

Just any guy should not be good enough for us—though we often forget that at times.

Fatherless daughters can’t learn these things from their mothers alone.

I was lucky because my grandfather really stepped up and he showed me most of those things. He taught me my worth, which is more than enough.

So what do you think? Do little girls need their daddies? Are there voids that daddies can fill that mommies cannot?  How has your relationship with your father impacted your life both positively and negatively? If you grew up fatherless, do feel you have emotional scars from his absence?

Late...

As a self diagnosed insomniac I can tell you that a great nights sleep is like finding a great guy. It happens on occasion, and when it does you feel as high as the sky.

Except when it makes you late for the airport.

Something drew me away from my beauty rest, and it wasn’t the sound of xylophones from my iPhone. I dug my way out of the sheets and through the comforter and lazily glanced at the brown digital clock in the hotel room.

9:00 a.m.

Hoping the clock was lying to me, I jumped up out of the queen-sized bed, and over to the desk to grab my phone.

9:01 a.m.

Immediately it dawned on me that my flight from LaGuardia Airport to Washington DC was leaving in an hour and a half, and I still had to get dress, double check the hotel room for items I didn’t want to leave behind, check out of The Park Central Hotel in Manhattan, hail a taxi, and make it to the airport.

While getting dressed I called Delta Airlines to let them know that I would be running late and to see what my options were.

Busy.

Called back.

Busy.

Call again.

Still Busy…

Clearly I am running out of time.

I quickly shoved my things into my luggage and did a quick once over of the hotel room.

9:30 a.m.

Satisfied I wouldn’t leave my life in NYC, I rushed out of the room waited four minutes for an elevator, went straight to the concierge to see if the hotel had a some sort of Delta Airline insider phone numbers that could get me pass the busy signal.

9:37 a.m.

Waiting behind someone asking how to get to Greenwich Village by subway. It must be nice to be on holiday.

9:47 a.m.

Unfortunately, my only hope was to pray I could make it to the airport in time. No need to hail a cab, there was one sitting outside. I told the cab driver that my flight leaves at 10:30.

9:50 a.m.

I don’t know who was talking, but the driver was driving like I was about to have a baby in his cab. I mean, driving down the shoulder, forcing cars over, honking and everything.

10:07 a.m.

I hopped out of the cab in front of Delta Airlines just to find that there are thousands of people standing in line.

10:17 a.m.

I am told to go to the other Delta terminal, which is conviently ten minutes away by bus. Clearly I wasn’t making it to my flight on time.

10:31 a.m.

I watched the plane fly off into the distance with out me.

10:47 a.m.

While waiting for the next flight out at 12:30 p.m. I dozed off thinking about the extra hour I wish I had in that bed.  

Victory is Mine: Running On My Own Two Feet and Ish.

In the modified words of Kanye, “It’s a celebration snitches!!!”

“Grab a drink; Grab a Glass…”

Low cal or skinny mini of course!

I am sure you want to hear the good news…

Yesterday I bought some running shoes for $50.

That’s it. That’s all.

That’s why we’re celebrating!

*Doing the hustle*

For the longest time, I couldn’t figure out why I was having trouble walking for long distances and/or running. I simply thought it was because I physically couldn’t run.

I am now one of millions of Americans without health coverage, thus I haven’t gone to the doctor for it. Lol

After doing my research on WebMD, I learned that my flat effin’ feet were the biggest problem.

Shin splits. Runners get them sometimes, and the running with the wrong shoes can also cause this problem.

The combination of not having arch support, and running on hard surfaces was doing a number on my joints and muscles.  

Last week, I sorta solved the problem by taking an ibuprofen to relax my muscles. It works, but I became worried that I would get injured if I didn’t fix the problem by purchasing the proper shoes.

So yesterday I went out and bought them. They aren’t the cutest things but they provide me with the support I need to run.

As soon as the snow clears, and the gym opens I am taking these blue angels on a trial run.

I’ve never been so excited about exercise in my life.

Other victories this week include:

Eating more green veggies.

Still drinking my water.

Still exercising.

Started my website (not ready for unveiling but it’s there).

What have been your victories for the week?

Crunches: The Bane of My Existence

You see, I am a tummy girl. All the women on my daddy’s side of the family has at least little stomach and not because of childbirth. I am convinced I was born without stomach muscles.

I am actively avoiding my Pilates Abs DVD even though I KNOW I need to work on my abs the most.

I hate crunches.

HATE them.

I HATE (emphasis intended) CRUNCHES! UGH… Not just crunches, but core work in general.

Holding my stomach in is harder than using the elliptical trainer, or the stairclimber. That will be the battle I fight in the up coming weeks. Core work. Once a week until it becomes a habit.

In the meantime I’ve been working up to being able to run. It has been my dream to be able to run ever since I read somewhere that running strengthens your legs and abs at the same time (with out crunches).

I couldn’t before because I would get shin splits, but I recently learned that if I take ibuprofen before I do The Mile I can get through The Mile. Next week, I am going to jog a mile and walk a mile. Wish me luck. J

The best part about it is that I don’t have to hold my stomach in to run, of course its preferred but I don’t have to, which makes them great!

I weighed in today. My goal was 2.5 pounds for the week, and I lost eight.

Congratulations to me!

My Pants Are On The Ground!!!!

Woke up yesterday morning at 5:45 a.m. elated.  I actually slept a little.

Started my morning routine:

Brushed my teeth.

Took a bath.

Started combing my hair.

Boiled some water for my oatmeal.

Finished my hair.

Made my lunch. 

Ate my oatmeal.

Started changing my clothes, when I noticed…

My pants, size 14, were falling off. They were on the ground literally.  I had to go fish out my smaller sized jeans, still a 14, but definitely a slimmer fit.

Talk about a victory. That was actually last week’s subject on  weight-loss losers. Non-scale victories. Seeing my pants on the ground was definitely a victory.

I love seeing the results of my hard work though I didn’t expect to see them this fast. I seriously started my weight-loss journey on New Years like everyone else does.

I had a delicious and worth it relapse for two weeks in Los Angeles.  I ate In & Out, Orange Bang, Louisiana Fried Chicken, Pizza, and the hamburger stand. I thought “hey, I can’t get the same foods here in Maryland so I better eat it all while I can,” and eat I did.

Last week It was back to school, back to business, and back to achieving my fitness goals.

I went hard-core. Drowning myself in eight cups of water, counting calories, and going to the gym four days a week.

I’ve lost weight before. 

This time however my fat burning weapon is weight-loss education. I read everything on weight-loss. Tips, success stories, and stories about those who are losing weight but are struggling.  I spend time incorporating what I can, and vowing to make a new change every week.

The best thing I’ve learned so far is that it’s the little things that make a big impact like eating on smaller plates, drinking water instead of soda, setting small goals and sticking to them.

No gimmicky diets.

No quick fixes.

I weigh-in today to see if I lost more than inches. Inches are good but pounds are the ultimate goal. My goal for last week was 2.5 pounds. If I lost that I would be ecstatic.

My goal for the month of February is 10 pounds down.

Please, wish me luck.

~BIAH

Don't sleep on it, and don't eat on it. Work it out.

Today was one of those days where I wanted to curl up and die.

You know, the kind of day where when things couldn't get any worse it some how does. By about 5 p.m. I wanted the day to be over, and to just go home. Only there was one problem, it's my gym day.

Honestly, I didn't want to go. I mean when I'm stressed out I want to grab my blanket (I don't have a snuggie yet) and climb into bed.

Then I started thinking about all the work I put in this week. I counted every calorie, drunk all my water, and did my cardio workouts. I have a goal of 2.5 pounds by Tuesday and I am half way through.

I finally realize that I always use my stress as a reason to skip workouts and mess up my progress.

The truth is my problems are not going to be solved today and they definitely won't be solved under the covers or by missing my workouts.

I tried to rationalize not going to the gym by saying I am going tomorrow. However, it's going to snow, and there is no guarantee that I will go to the gym tomorrow. I always have said "I will go tomorrow," and the truth is tomorrow never comes. I'll never see tomorrow, as long as I am awake, the day is still today.

So I went to the gym, and as I started losing my breath on the elliptical trainer, and concentrating on how excellent my workout playlist has become all my problems mentally went away.

By the time I ended my workout my problems didn't matter as much. Though I came home to even more problems, my workout has helped me remain calm and relaxed.

I can't live my life anymore on excuses. Workout the stress, don't sleep on it, and don't eat on it. 


~This is my post but I also posted it on sparkpeople.com

Ray J & 'Em

Y’all know I am a reality tv junkie, right?

So it shouldn’t come as a surprise when I say that I thought Ray J was dumb as hell for letting go of Jaguar this past Monday on his television show For The Love of Ray J.

I mean can you blame her for not wanting to kiss him? He’s at least kissing EVERYBODY. At the very least kissing. Lol

Jaguar’s at least got some morals and didn’t want to put herself out there on national tv.

To me she was keeping it all the way real.  Let’s be honest: She wasn’t in love with him. He wasn’t in love with her.

What kind of message is being sent when a girl with morals can’t get a B-list celebrity?

She should get a round of applause for not stooping to anything to win Ray J’s Hoe of the Season Award.

Jaguar was smart in that she could get a recording contract and date anyone in the industry with out a blemish on her reputation.

So who does he have left?

Nobody. Except maybe Mz. Berry. I guess she would be my next pick. I think she deserves better than Ray J but since she’s on the show, I guess she should win.

I know Ray J supposedly has this “chemistry” with Flossy but she seems to be more like his freak of the week than a potential girlfriend.

I am done complaining but since I know you care about what I think, here the folks on my bottom three:

Extra- is a no. She’s just weird to me. She’s just sliding through the cracks because other people just happen to mess up before elimination. 

Exotica- Let’s get R-E-A-L her attitude is effed up. I can hardly understand her (and I do try) but what she does say is mean and petty.

Heartbreaker- is hideous looking and she tries to be a wannabe Cocktail. I didn’t like Cocktail and I definitely don’t like Heartbreaker.

If you’re following the show let me know who you think will win…

For the Love of ChaChing Bling

I decided this week I want to add investigative reporting to my list of know-hows. I’ve always wanted my work to impact people, change lives, and open doors to the impossible.  Not to mention it’s much more fun reporting on scandals and corruption when you’ve done your homework and KNOW you’re right.  I never wanted to be that reporter who regurgitates what other reporters are writing about or be overly concerned about competing with the Washington Post or the New York Times when breaking national stories.

Basically, I am learning how to become a professional snoop for the greater good of the public.

At some level all reporters should be detectives from a far.  If you’re reporting on a congressman you should have the skills to find out everything you can whether that is interviewing a myriad of people, checking vital records, scanning court documents or always having a pending FOIA request.

 I just do not want to work for someone for the rest of my life. I want establish myself as a credible source of news, start my own website and take news to the next level.  I believe in branding myself.  I don’t want a publication to own me, and  leave my livelihood in someone else hands.

I want to be different.  I want to live up to my full potential. I want to live my stand:

I stand for breaking down barriers and walls to create possibility in the lives of others.

My dreams are big. I am the woman who strives to be the Oprah of online journalism. I see the future a little differently. Like Russell Simmons said, it starts with a vision then taking hold of it and seeing it to the end.

I once told someone about my goals in life and they kind of laughed.  I was taken aback for a half a second, like, eh yo, did he just laugh? Then I laughed too, because obviously he didn’t know whom he was talking to.

I dream the impossible because in the impossible is a wealth of possibility.

How far am I willing to go? I decided that I am willing to live with the prospect of never getting married or having a family for the sake of my career.  HUGE statement I know, but I feel like I was placed here to complete some unknown mission. I am striving for something.

One day, when I am sitting in my 18^th Floor office, watching my secretary who has the body of a quarterback and a face of Adonis feed my tiny dog name Cha Ching Bling, it shall all be worth it.

Back To Black

I am writing a lot but I am not really writing at all. I consistently doubt my abilities again and again and again. I am always afraid of making a mistake. I am always afraid of getting something wrong. Then I remember that I am here for a reason and that I will succeed. That cheers me up until the next assignment is due and then I am sad all over again.

Is this what being a writer is about? Recognizing your flaws, over and over again. I want to command my words and be sure of myself and know everything about journalism now. I am not learning fast enough to catch my mistakes before they happen. I am growing but in a world where mistakes can cost you a lot and the stakes are high how do you not fail?

I learned that my commas are wrong and that I editorialize sometimes. I can’t presume anything but I can’t tell the real difference between presumption and writing with authority. I read the Washington Post and they write one way, but I am being taught to write another way. I am trying to find my flaws.

What I want to know is how do you know that you’re wrong before you make a mistake? I am tired of being scared to write real words. Saying the wrong thing is too much. How do I get better? How do I stop feeling so freakin’ behind? How do I stop feeling like everyone else is making it? 

I am not doing poorly, but I am not excelling. I want to excel, and it’s killing me that I stay up, work so hard and still do mediocre work.

Sigh. Sometimes blogging is the only way to free my mind. I say I’ll do it more and I don’t. Until next time, peace.

My Awesome Dentist & Oral Surgeon.

Like any other person, I was not excited about visiting the dentist.


Recently however, I was introduced to a dental office, and oral surgeon who have change my views on health care, and patient/doctor relationships forever. For the first time in my life, I feel like I have met dentists and dental surgeons who sincerely care.

Growing up I was exposed to more half-ass dental offices than one can possibly stand. Over crowded rooms and extra long waiting periods, only to be seen by a dentist who cares more about your coverage than your health.

The sad part is, most of us accept this as acceptable because we don’t know what it is like to be treated better. We should be expect to be seen on time. We should expect to have a dentist who cares. We should expect a comfortable environment.

Most importantly, I am tired of feeling like dentist are trying to get over on their patients. For example, I went to one dentist who told me I had six cavities. After seeing my new dentist, I learned I only had two cavities. TMI I know, but I can’t shake the feeling that the first dentist made up the cavities with the hopes of getting more money.

In any case, I was referred by a beloved coworker to: Dr Kenneth Mizono, DDS Mizono & Kobayashi Family Dentistry
730 Kains Ave
(between Portland Ave & Washington Ave)
Albany, CA 94706
(510) 525-2899

Every thing I could have ever wanted in a dental office was there. Everyone from the front desk staff to Sharon who cleaned my teeth were helpful and supportive. My wait time was nonexistent. The small waiting area wasn’t crowded. She took their time cleaning my teeth thoroughly. I didn’t feel rushed. Sharon was honest about the health of my teeth and took really great care of me.

After reviewing my x-rays it was clear I needed all my wisdom teeth pulled. Sharon sent me to an angel disguised as an oral surgeon: Dr. Bloom
Berkeley Oral Surgery
(http://www.berkeleyoralsurgery.com/splash/splash.html).

Dr. Bloom has a heart of gold and has changed the way I view the world and helping people. I’ve always lived by the code “treat people the way you want to be treated” but, Dr. Bloom taught me how kindness, honesty, generosity, and being open are perhaps the most important traits a person could possess. Not to mention he’s an EXCELLENT Surgeon, check his resume on the website.

I may truly be the only person in the world who is excited about having all four wisdom teeth pulled. I am looking forward to it.

I trust my dentist.
I trust his staff.
I trust my oral surgeon.

I’ve determined that I am never going to another dental office again. When I visit the Bay Area twice per year (because I have friends here) I will also be sure to set up my dental appointments as well.

I LOVE MY Dentist, and Oral Surgeon. Yelp all of the names above, read the reviews and you will see I am NOT alone.

This is not free advertisement. I’ve never felt THIS full of love for dentistry ever. They have my stamp of eternal approval.

Randomishness on a Wine Night

This week has been rather difficult. I decided to get rid of one of my closest friends for the sake of my own personal well being. Sometimes you have to clean and rearrange the clutter to make space for the new things to come into your life, so I did. I sat listening as Amy crooned “my tears dry on their own,” silently willing the droplets back into my sockets. My mood is sorta in between buying a tub of Baskin & Robbins or going to the gym and taking it out on the Stairmaster. In due time, and due process things will be better. I know it shall be.

In other news… CONGRATS to all the new mommies. I feel like my prayers of someone-else-having-a-baby-so-I-can-have-an-excuse-to-buy-baby-stuff was answered. I’ve got three babies to spoil in some way, shape, or form. Welcome class of 2027 and 2028! Is it too soon to think about their high school graduation? It doesn’t matter, they are all going to UC Berkeley for college. We can never have too many Blue and Gold Bears.

I have a bit of advice for the Mommies, buy “The Places You Will Go” by Dr. Seuss and read it to your baby every night until they are 50. I still read the book-when I am stressed or need answers and it always helps.

I miss my cousin. She’s been in and out of the hospital for the past few months and I haven’t talked to her. I can’t visit her because I am here in the Bay, she’s in L.A. I used to talk to her every single day, and now, never. I need her, I relied on her support through out every moment in my life. She’s the wind beneath my wings. I feel empty with out her, like a void that can’t be filled with something else.

New Blogs, Videos. I decided that starting in July, I am going to start a series of vlogs and written blogs to help people get through the graduate school application process this year. I could write whole books with the stuff I know and I would like to help others get into the programs of their choice. I’ll discuss the GRE’s, statement of purpose, personal statements, and letters of recommendation. We’ll talk about different options whether to apply for the part-time or full-time programs, Ph.ds vs. Masters, and experience vs. none. Good idea? Send

I’ll post the first few here and then finish a separate blog on the subject.

In any case, you’ll see more blogs from me now. I’ve been wanting to write, but haven’t been able to lately.

Debt Free in DC...

In my last post, I wrote this illustrious blog about attending Columbia and achieving my dreams. Indeed, I visited the school, fell in love with the program, the city and the people, etc. I was all set to go, until I received an e-mail from the University of Maryland- College Park, offering me a full ride.

While everyone else was happy for me, and saying “Girl, You got good problems,” I was emotional wreck. Columbia is my dream school, but it also comes with a 70K price tag on top of my undergraduate loans which, together, would average out at about 100k and that is not including interest.

Is the program worth 70K? Yep. The School administers the freakin’ Pulitzer Prize. The Alumni network is a beast. The actual program is standard, up to date and on point. NYC is their laboratory, and some of the best and brightest in the field walk through their doors regularly. (sigh)

However, there are some pretty heavy negatives simply because of the price tag.
1) Journalist in general start out making 30-40k, maybe 45k with a masters and experience. The median salary for a person with 10-15 years of experience is around 50 k. Thus, I will have that loan for the rest of my life.
2) Journalism is a field where you don’t “need” a masters degree to get into the field, it’s all about your talent and network. There is a large chance that I could go to Columbia and end up in a field other than journalism, simply because I have to pay back this huge debt.

Furthermore, the University of Maryland isn’t bad.
1) Free ride means, I don’t have to worry about how I am going to eat, pay rent, etc.
2) I don’t have to work which leaves time for internships, networking and study time.
3) When I graduate, I can take a low paying job to get experience with out worrying about the debt.
4) My boss is friends with the President of the University. Only great things can come of it. Lol
5) I am really talented so I can thrive at any school, especially Maryland because I am debt free.
6) To be in DC, during the Obama administration!!!! Super, Super, Super cool. lol

This week I had to make a big girl decision. Choosing between what I need vs want. For a week straight, I did everything I could to try to leverage Maryland for Columbia and they weren’t having it. Endowments are down, and this economy has done a number on everyone including our distinguished educational establishments.

Then I took a poll and overwhelmingly, everyone said “Go to Maryland.” Grudgingly, I agree.

Sigh… Looks like I’ll be debt free in D.C. (((SMILE)))

A Dream Conferred

Like many of the students who come in my office daily, I come from humble beginnings. I am the oldest of five children, and eleven grandchildren. I carry the weight of more than just me.

And I ain't sayin' we was from the projects
But everytime I want it, layaway or a deposit
My dad'll say "When you see clothes close your eyelids"
~"Champion," K.West, The Graduation

As a result I have had to work tirelessly, to achieve my dreams and expand my possibilities of making them happen.

You see, if you ever wanted to ever be anything
There'd always be somebody that shoot down any dream
~"Bring Me Down," K.West, Late Registration

So many times, I have been told to give up my dream of becoming a leading journalist and settle at this job of mine. My family flipped out when I decided not to major in a science and instead pursue a career in journalism. I was told I was dumb, and I was criticized for choosing a career that would lead to no where. I love the field but have had a difficult time breaking in.

But they're gonna have to take my life 'fore they take my drive
'cause when I was barely living, that's what kept me alive
Just the thought that maybe it could be better than what we at at this time
Make it out of this grind, 'fore I'm out of my mind
~"Bring Me Down," K.West, Late Registration

At times when I am having a particularly difficult day at work (which is often), I’d turn to the motivating sounds of Kanye West and dreamed of my spaceship.

You can't fathom my love dude
Lock yourself in a room doin' five beats a day for three summers
That's a different world like Kree Summers
I deserve to do these numbers
The kid that made that deserves that Maybach
So many records in my basement
I'm just waitin' on my spaceship, blaow
~"Spaceship," K,West, The College Dropout

In the month of March, I received a fleet of spaceships. One after another, admissions acceptance letters from the schools in which I applied, beamed into my e-mail account, while others, landed in my mail box.


I was accepted into the following journalism schools: Michigan State, Syracuse University, University of Maryland-College Park, and Columbia University. I am wait-listed at NYU and Northwestern.

Never in a million years did I image I would be admitted into all of those schools, ESPECIALLY Columbia. I needed one spaceship, and I got four. I am so excited.

Forgive me if I sound boastful, but I am a first generation college graduate. I went to a hood high school (of which I am proud of, with out my school I would not be where I am today), and then managed to go on CAL and complete.

And now, I get to attend the top journalism school in the country. Me, little ole me. I am so ready to go and learn everything I possibly can. I promised myself that if I got into a school, I will work hard and make the most of experience and by golly I will.

If you have a dream, MAKE IT HAPPEN, simply because you can.

Courtesy of VH1’s Tool Academy

I, Rabiah, am addicted to VH1 Reality Shows.

It all started with I Love New York when Chance and Tango were battling it out for the love of Miss Tiffany. Today, that love has since expanded as far as Rock of Love.

I don’t have cable so I am regulated to watching the shows online and at my leisure. On a lazy Sunday after noon you could find me watching a whole season or two of some show I missed while completing grad apps.

Recently, I’ve been watching VH1’s Tool Academy. Basically, it’s a show about helping jerks realize they’re jerks in order to save their relationships. I know it’s only been two shows but I think every woman in America should watch it. As much as it focuses on the men and their ability (to or lack there of) to transform, watching how the women react in each scenario is more interesting to me.

All of the problems with each relationship is open for the world to see, yet the women blinded. Some of the men are just not a good match. However, I can relate to being in love with someone and not being able have that person love me the same way. You know, loving a person for they could be rather than who they are.

But where is the breaking point?

When is the moment of clarity when a woman decides that they deserve more?

I toss and turn about telling a friend to leave a no good man, and having her fall on her face. Then again I am not God so I don’t know what’s in store.

Indulge me for half a second with your thoughts…

Thanks for reading !

Umm Anthony, Words Mean Everything.

“Can't tell you nothing you ain't already heard
No matter what I say it's nothing but words
Just let me prove to you what I know is real
Let me express to you the way that I feel”
~ Anthony David, Words.

I think Anthony is full of shit. If it were “nothing but words” then why is it taking me so long to crank out the mere 1,400 words of sweet nothings designed to woo my way into the gracious hearts of various graduate admissions committees across the country? How do I finesse their minds in such a way that they would be willing to over look my low GRE scores, and my first two years I bullshited my way through college which resulted in me having less then stellar grades. Yeah, it’s true that I more than made them up by doing phenomenally well the last three years while working nearly 30 hours per week and attending school, but hasn’t every other candidate been through something similar??

It’s simply taking me forever to write a personal statement and statement of purpose for my graduate applications. It hasn’t taken me months, weeks, or days but years. Three years of looking for the right words to say that “I am passionate about journalism,” and “fluck those other candidates- I am what you are looking for.”

Not to mention the fact that Rabiah doesn’t want to go to just ANY school (raising pinky to lip), she has to go to one of the best an Ivy League preferably, or she doesn’t want to go. I am so working on being a little more humble, and being okay with going to a tier two school. At the moment though, I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I am striving for the best.

I didn’t want to come at them with the same sob story that most minorities have when they grew up poor. Yeah, the streets were hard, that’s why I couldn’t go out in them. I was sheltered so to speak. My high school was over crowed, didn’t have adequate books or enough teachers who cared. However, my teachers did care, I was in Advanced Placement classes and I had been taking additional community college courses since I was 15. I think they’ve read enough of those.

I could talk about my experience in the field, but my resume does that already.

Over achiever? Not really. Hard worker? Definitely. It’s the story of my life.

Ironically enough, the only thing that is really holding me back is my lack of confidence in my own writing.

Though I want to be a full-time journalist, I don’t consider myself a writer. To me a writer is someone who loves the science of written words. Writers paint pictures with words. Punctuation, grammar, sentence structure, are like paint brushes and a new Microsoft Word document is a canvas. They can invent phrases and invoke emotion. I love reading real writers, my friends the Golden Girls-Nakia, Syn, Britt, Lola, Dayna, in fact are amongst the best. Reading their work along with other writers such as Phellah G, Justin, JaySpace, We All Like Things, and One Man Gang, tells me I’ve got lots of work to do.

I can write too, I just wouldn’t say that a “real writer” is who I am. I don’t write because I love the craft of writing. I write because I like to talk, and inform people. I write to debate and discuss issues. I write so people can understand where I am coming from. I am not stringent about grammar and punctuation. It doesn’t bother me when people don’t stick to conventional standard forms of writing. Just don’t use large vocabulary words incorrectly and we won’t have any issues. Lol

I just want people to hear my voice and understand where I am coming from. The admissions committee wants to see evidence of a solid command of the written language. I don’t have an elegant prose to pen. My writing style is straight forward. I write the way I speak, revised.

Is it enough? Is it okay that I won’t be the next Maya Angelou or Toni Morrison? Sigh. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll have more ideas to write this statement from hell. These words that mean everything. As for now, my pillow awaits.

Sang It, Sol-Angel... That's Good Music

People let’s get it together...

All of this talk about Beyonce and her two new mediocre videos, whether good or bad it is really annoying. There is nothing spectacular about either one “If I were a Boy” (a seemingly deeper version of Ciara's Like A Boy) or “Single Ladies.” They are catchy, typically Beyonce songs- nothing new. Had anyone else sung it there would not be all of this talk about it.

It’s not the mere mention of her that is putting me on fire per se, but rather the fact that her sister Solange’s album has been over looked and under rated and she produced an incredible album this year...

“Sol-Angel & the Hadley St. Dreams.”

...While Beyonce’s new singles are blowing up the music world.

Now I too, was reluctant to embrace anything Solange because I personally hate singing families. It’s not illegal - I know, but everybody in the family isn’t talented always. In cases when they are it’s like, so what they can all sing? Not all of them were meant to be singers. Pick a representative and do it moving.

However, because I love music I had to at least listen to what she had to sing before I started critiquing and criticizing the family decision to let her have another album. So while sitting at work, I listened to a few snippets on itunes and fell in love. Not only with the album but also with the fact that it was being sold for the bargain price of $7.99. I mean, how many times have you gotten a great album for a great price (illegal downloading excluded)?

My favorites on the album include…

Cosmic Journey

Sandcastle Disco

Would Have Been The One

Even though I can (and have) listen to the whole album over and over.

Feel Free to listen…




In my opinion, that album should have blown up by now. Get it together people and listen to some GOOD music.


Thanks For Reading.

Tarzan and Focus: Natural Home Disasters

I came home today and my kitchen curtain wasn’t where I left it. Instead of hanging from the brackets that have been holding them up since I moved in here (about 3 years ago) my ray of light hider was sitting on the kitchen floor. How am I supposed to walk around my house naked now? Huh?! I am pissed.

Now, I didn’t do it. I was at work. So the only other two other folks in my house during working hours are these two here:

Tarzan Jenkins and Prince Focus Abdul Jamaal

Both of them are going to get put out soon, they just don’t know it yet.

They have really been cutting up since I took them to the vet last Saturday. They got their shots and I got yelled at by the vet. Apparently, one of my babies, Focus, is too chunky (don’t call him fat, I’ll choke you all, he’s just a little thick) and has to go on a diet.

What I don’t understand is why is he eating so much? Am I stressing him out? It’s not like I am feeding them wet food. They get their Iams dry kitten food, but Focus acts like I am feeding him steak or something.

Tell me how the H-E-double hockey sticks, am I supposed to put ONE cat on a diet?

Anywho, I don’t want him to die or anything like that, so I cut back on the amount of food he gets everyday.

Guess what?! This cat is retaliating!!!!!!!!!!

Do you know this kigga’s going through the trash? Sleeping during the day so he can keep me up at night while running around the house? Hell, even his brother has left his sour ass alone. I am not a punk though.

I got him exercising and everything. Everyday when I get home, I take the broom and chase him around the house with it for 30 minutes. “Run Focus! Run!” I say. I don’t think he appreciates it much.

Tarzan looks at his brotha like, “man I told you not to eat that second helping,” while Focus is like “This B!tch is Crazy!!!!!!!!!! Don’t just stand there, SAVE ME!!!!”

It’s not my fault the doctor put him on a diet. He shouldn’t have been such a piglet. Since I’ve been such an neglectful mommy, I’ve got to show the vet I can be a drill sergeant. They’ll be anorexic in no time.

Now if only I could be as discipline with myself as I am with my twins.
Sigh, Wish me luck.

Thanks for reading.

It's All About The Bounce

As you all know, I love going places and seeing things I have never seen before. This past Saturday Night I was in for a surprise. My beautiful brown-self partied at Club Bounce in Long Beach California.

.

Being a size 14 at 5’5 (shhhhh... Don't tell anyone) I am not overly huge, but I am not small. In fact, this is the largest I have been in a long time. Thus, when I discovered that I would be attending the BBW (that's big beautiful women for the acronymically challenged) Club Bounce in Long Beach this weekend, I knew I had found a home. But, ummhmm I was surprised to find that I was on the smaller side. The average size of the women in the club had to be around a 22 or 24. Women of all shapes, sizes, colors and races were present.

And talk about confident, They knew they were beautiful and carried themselves as such.

The dress code was casual but the women dressed well…

For the most part…

In fact some of the women wore flip flops or slippers giving them the flexibility to be as comfortable as needed.

The men weren’t looking at me. All eyes were on the 250 lb+ women. It was truly a celebration of their beauty. Some people would question the type of men who frequent such a club.

To be honest, the men were average dudes…

The same type of men you would find at normal club, only they prefer their women to be extra thick.

The dance floor was crowed and freak dancing was on and poppin’. I saw one man lift a woman who had to be about 300lbs and was grinding her on the dance floor.

The downsides:

1) The alcoholic beverages were watered down. They weren’t strong enough at all. I could have drunk four LA Waters from the club and still not be tipsy...

So if you go plan on drinking do so before hand.

2) The dance floor was too small and not enough room to move.

Overall I had a great time, and I would recommend it to any thick woman. If you have curves for days, and you are residing in Los Angeles County this is definitely a club for you. Be sure to check out their website (http://www.clubbounce.net/index2.htm) and go to the club, I am sure you are bound to have fun.