The Time It Takes to Reinvent One's Universe

It is the very last day of my week-long vacation from work. I get annoyed by the term "staycation", even if that's what it is, because it still emits an idea of being tethered, the antithesis of my original goal in taking a full week off. No, I did not go to the beach, and only out-of-state to a New Jersey Korean spa (a fairytale experience, to be sure), but I definitely vacated my thoughts from my rather harried and anxiety-laced work life. I spent several hours in my and my best friend's garden, as well as biking through Canarsie Park, where I took up the guerilla-gardening tactics that only work when everyone else is at work on a sunny morning.

Yes, it has been quite a vacation from the everyday drain. I have new vision, a renewed sense of purpose, and the actual tools to achieve it: confidence, networking skills, practical resources, etc.

I have a bag of topsoil, several welts from mosquitoes biting the backs of my knees, and the knowledge that a bucket of water with a cup of vegetable oil and a few drips of detergent will hinder several generations of those nasty suckers, while I plan out the green trajectory of my backyard kingdom: where to plant the insect-repellant Geraniums and Rue versus the pollinator-enticing Bee Balms, the best material for trellises of soon-to-bear Dragon's Tongue Beans, etc.

I have a friend down the road with a wheelbarrow that has notched several feet of distance carting rakes, shovels and soil amendment components to and fro between our houses.

I have new respect for the rain forecast, and the hours of sun my backyard gets in various sections.

I learned just today that I better leave the poison ivy vines along the fence alone. This might be the one non-organic gardening move I make: spraying directly onto the vines to kill them through the root, since if I try to spend too much energy clipping individual sections, then burning of leaving for the sun to dry, I might get a nasty rash in the process and give the vine motivation to set own new shoots. So, chemical spray it will be.

I attended the 3rd annual S.H.E. Summit in NYC, this time volunteering with my Mom and best friend and fellow guerilla-gardener. It was really great to be able to tell others about this awesome conflation of intellect, general warmth and empowerment.  I will be asking my female boss for that raise I know I deserve. And if she says no, I have already sown the seeds for new job searches and applications, so.... it will be what it will be (Me: 1, Anxiety: 0).

Time to go water the plants, and feed the budding ideas.

Finding Beauty Where E'er I Go

The seasons are in their transition, as is the political, sartorial and culinary climates of New York City. Soon, the fig tree that I walk under every day before I round the corner to my home block will fade away the scent of ripened mashed fruit underfoot with the autumn rains. The leaves tempt me to harvest for experimental pickles and dolmades. I must acquaint myself with its Jewish owners so that I don't feel like a vandal plotting to pick the fruit under cover of darkness next summer. They obviously have more than they ever care or want to pick for themselves. I guess for now I will have to be content with spritzing my Fresh Fig and Apricot parfum when the air has a familiar chill...

When the weather starts turning, I get more creative. I re-stock my spices that have been put to good use throughout the year, but also bring out the more traditional ones for cold weather cooking- cinnamon sticks, cloves, allspice for mulled wine and cider, pumpkin and squash-based foods. I raid the wild overgrown sage bush in the backyard, visions of crackly buttered sage in soups, roasted meats and hair vinegar rinses. I devote more time and budget as I can to roving the Brooklyn and Manhattan Farmer's Markets, checking off the staples- garlic, onions, plus varieties of apples and pears, farm eggs, dark leafy greens and a colorful pile of root vegetables with the highest vitamin and mineral content. This year, I have fallen in love with legumes all over again, and intend to put lentils through the recipe wringer along with some unusual grains, like amaranth and millet. At some point soon, I will buy my $7-$8 bunch of fresh eucalyptus to decorate, disperse the annoying closet-and-cupboard moths, and eventually serve as fragrant and potent inhalants for my seasonal sinus colds.

It was with this inventive spirit (and tormenting autumn illness) that I found myself in Tribeca yesterday, aiming to take mental and visual stock of items at my favorite health food store in Manhattan, Bell Bates. Imagine my deep confusion and sadness when I happened upon the raised steps, only to find a garishly incongruous Hallowe'en display inside the wide-open doors. Costumes and gimmicky ads included. Not a spice in sight. Mind you, I do consider myself a fan of Hallowe'en, since I have always liked to play dress-up and explore the deeper and darker side of my imagination since I was a sheltered, restricted child of The Church. But I was not prepared for this untimely assault, October or not. Not at my oft-visited haven for hard-to-find herbs and spices at affordable sampling (and hoarding) quantities! Where will I find a $3.99 4-ounce bag of everlasting flowers to try out a new tincture?? Who else had such an extensive array of seaweed products from more than one brand?? Why, oh why didn't I come in September like I planned to? The girl smacking her gum on her cell phone break outside saw my bereft state and informed me that Bell Bates closed up shop two months ago. The beginning of the summer was  last time I was in there (feeling guilty for buying too many things, but vowing to return in Sept nonetheless). They never mentioned anything in the store, even though I now see online everyone knew about this... People need to know how much of an institution this place was, family-run since 1885... but there is Whole Foods down the block to contend with, so I guess it was inevitable.

I could suck my teeth about that, but I will be positive and highlight the fact  that, call it what you like, WF was my next logical step for consolation. and to some degree, I was consoled. I happened upon a small display in the natural cosmetic section (my secondary obsession, after spices), where a lovely young lady and her older male assistant were rearranging their wares.

Daliia: The Science of Life, was set up to showcase sexy looking kohl eye makeup in vibrant metallic colors and amazing lipstick-style cases with retractable mirrors. My favorite, which I intend to purchase and wear the hell out of, was the Persian Gold Eye-Stick. There were also some natural-based lip stain pens, beckoning for a  pout. Since I have a love-fear relationship with any lipcolor more lingering than lipgloss, I feel confident that these stains are the perfect addition to my regimen. As I mentioned to Dalia, it is reminiscent of a simpler (and yet more subversive) time of the Middle Ages, where young women found inventive ways to have a beauty regimen in spite of strict religious and superstitious social directives. Ms. Dalia herself is a striking lass, all dark wavy tresses and a slightly classic ancient-beauty look to her. Although I was fighting a heavy disposition in my despair over Bell Bates and my sinus headache, I found myself talking to Dalia for about an hour about her line. I love that she is an independent gal touting "Ayurvedic Couture", and I tip my invisible fedora to a young person like myself who obviously values ancient ways with a fresh new delivery. She is doing something my grandmother did, my mother always dabbled in and I aspire to do a little bit more every day. There are very few artists, designers and purveyors of beauty that I feel compelled to mention in my blog as a direct inspiration and promotion, but I will say thank you to Dalia and Daliia, for giving me a ray of hope that all is not lost in this larger, ever-changing metropolis; that perseverance and creativity are still rewarding traits when one daydreams and fantasizes about a different way of life.

 

One small independent institution may have bowed out, but in its wake, may many more can and will crop up. And I will find them, and speak their name with a smile upon my lips, and a Persian gold rimming my eyes!

Someone's Gotta Give, Or Negotiating The Economic Theory of Despair

So, here we are in the sixth (almost seventh) day of August. It feels like a Monday, because of the grueling and soul-crunching aspect of my days' activities. At least True Monday was rather low-key and enjoyable by comparison. One can even say it culminated in fruitful accomplishments, composed of balmy breezes, impromptu after-work strolls and friendly visits with unexpected bounties (ahem, MA...).
Perhaps a little too much vine-flavored bounty? A little hangover with my morning court case, please?

Sigh... I left the office at 6:47 pm this evening after being pulled into a 4:30 pm meeting with the senior accountant and the CFO. Reports are needed, collective scrambling for contracts and a sense impending doom surrounding the management of certain properties were all the talk of the day. Needless to say, I have yet another layer of work piled onto my many varied striations of Legal Clerk duties, compressing at an accelerated rate now and promising a very precious gem of a headache, product highly valued yet underpaid.

I am not completely at my wit's end, having recently bandied some ideas and suggestions with my mother and best friend. I am just feeling a little drown-y for lack of a more nuanced term at 11:38 pm. In today's world, it's all about keeping abreast of the news, following this witty post-Black Man commentator, interspliced with news from The Post, Al-Jezeera, The Economist, The Ecologist, The Times, et cetera, ad nauseum, ad inifinitum.... Well my little faithful BlackBerry Curve can only take so much, and so my bank account, for the record. Trying to keep a budget and pay every blasted private/public/sub and unsubsidized school loan is draining what would otherwise look like a sub-lower middle class income. I can't afford an upgrade to keep up with the wave of digital information that so often thrusts itself as the surefire method for me to rise up out of economic poverty with my intellectually rich potential.

I really need a new laptop and a new phone/phone plan. My brain is fried from daily computer work to the point that it is an existential chore when I get home to do anything else on a computer for myself- writing, research, networking, even entertainment.

How do I get out of this funk?!

Enter The Humble Book and its enticing counterpart, the New York Times Book Review Section.

For the archaic Luddites among my readers few, these would be the tangible, weightier, relatively cheaper versions of blog postings and news bites. I don't have to squint and scroll through an endless feed of information. I can focus on one chapter at a time, pore over one book review and their myriad of new words to look up in the dictionary and add to my lexicon. And I still feel connected to modern society, and what's more, excited about learning and pressing forward with my foreign affairs career aspirations!

I say all of this to say that on the way home this afternoon, I felt a little dejected from my ordeal and the pittance I must magically stretch beyond physics to pay my way through life with. I cracked open today's reading choice, Economics for Dummies, and first read a mini article about First World subsidized farmers threatening the livelihoods of Third World subsistence farmers. Not exactly uplifting and encouraging facts. But the excerpt was well written, and helped me to conceptualize the Price Ceiling graph the story was meant to alliterate. Of course, the subject of rent control was also mentioned, thus crystallizing the details of my current line of work against the issues I want to tackle in my dream job.

I got to thinking about a certain letter languishing in my room from a fundraising entity of NYU. Apparently I was caught unawares some random phone call months ago and "pledged" to give $50.00 for their efforts. This is the third letter I received at the end of July with them asking me to remember my pledge and essentially pay another bill. I called their phone number and explained apologetically that I am in no financial position to cough up $50 with my current budget and politely tried to bow out. Not my proudest moment, as a believer in fundraising and community support, but damn these expensive school loans and the fact that my promising career after my triumphant Master's Degree has not translated into burgeoning purses to benefact back to NYU!

I decided, after having read the economics chapter, that I would turn this fundraising to my advantage. Instead of merely writing a letter stating how I can't afford their pricey fundraiser drive. I will include an appeal for a job at any office in NYU that deems my skillsets worthy.

Seeing as how I am educated by NYU, perhaps some hawk-eyed office-person with a sense of humor/duty/insight will come across my resume attached to my response letter and pass it along to the appropriate party for review.

It's so crazy, it just might work!

When It Rains It Surely Pours... Thoughts on SHE Summit, Same Sky and The Athena Phenomenon- Part 2

My epiphany came to me in the hazy interface of sleep and wake this morning, as I turned over and gently pressed the "on" button to my waking thoughts.

I am happiest when:
I am engaged in some doable (note: NOT All-Consuming) project,
I have thought-provoking and mentally/physically involving events to attend,
I have caught up with all the people I wanted to check in with,
I am singing (@overture.me, props to Jared and Jason for bringing that one to the surface!),
I have reading material, in the form of great web and print-based articles, a recommended book or two, even an unexpected handwritten card or letter, and
When my creative side has been stroked and encouraged to make a therapeutic reemergence.

The second day of SHE Summit seemed to be about 50% less attendance, but this in no way diminished the buzz, the echoes of excited and engaged women (and a few men) talking. The community-driven spirit of the event was palpable.

Day 2 was all about Women Investing in Women; Women & Media Consciousness; Women & Science; Mentorship and Sponsorship; Return on Investment (Self-Care & Wellness); and Success Stories from working Moms. Every topic was exciting and eye-opening in how the panelists highlighted the issues, related their own personal anecdotes to the audience, and promoted themselves and other women confidently. They were real women (mostly white, a few of color, but I'm not hating, just relating) of different ages, backgrounds, sizes and perspectives. Some, like the triumphant Cindy Gallop, had an awesome stage presence, her voice peppered with passion when she spoke. I wrote and tweeted so many of her quotes  that my carpal tunnel started acting up! By far, the one I want to repeat and re-read over and over again was, "There is a huge amount of money to be made by taking women seriously", which she said during a discussion about how women are represented by the almost 97% of male ad creators in the United States. According to Ms. Gallop who totally makes me want to get back on my gallant horse of life, pun intended!), women are the majority users of social media (I'm talking to you, Lady LittleFoot!), and they influence 90% of technology sales (whether they are used to sell them to other women or not, I presume). Another spot-on thing she said was " we are constantly played back to ourselves through the male gaze". Boom. There it is.

I really appreciated learning about John Gerzema yesterday, although I didn't get to attend his conversation because I was volunteering at the registration desk, I did chat him up when he was leaving and got him to sign a copy of his book, The Athena Doctrine. What I overheard got me excited, because he highlights the value of so-called feminine traits in leadership around the world, with clear statistics. He even went as far as to say that these are areas that men could and should adopt in order to be more effective as co-leaders with women in The World of Right Now and Tomorrow.

It's so funny because all last year I had purposed to design and achieve another meaningful tattoo to commemorate my 30th birthday and reflect on life since I was 20 years old studying in Australia. I didn't get it (yet), just like I didn't start locking my hair, another endeavor re-evaluated for strength of purpose. But, just being at this conference, making the decisions that I made in the past two weeks and the past three months at this new job have affirmed what I knew last year. The image that I couldn't get out of my head when I thought about it was a woman pulling back a bow an arrow, placed right on my left shoulder blade. I wanted to incorporate not just Athena, Goddess of Craft and Wisdom, but also Nzinga, Warrior Queen of Matamba.

Tattoos and Dreads, you say... what kind of girl is this? Well, let me be one to say that both of these forms of physical self-expression are older than the internet, and have long been part of my ancestral heritage, as well as about 95% of human beings anywhere on this globe, in some form or other. This is not a hard statistic, and is mostly based on my own travels, conversations and literary investigations. I have my reserved, slightly conservative side, and I have my creative, expressive and open-minded self inhabiting the same body. My Body. My Mind to expand and share with others, my Lips to speak positively and supportively, defensively and with confident authority or even with a measured rebuke, if so warranted.

All of this, and I still want to be a U.S. Diplomat, so help me. MA and I have both signed up to take the FSOT in October, me my third time will be a charm!

Some quotes from the SHE Summit:

"We need new role models of what masculinity is, there is a global crisis of masculinity"

"End the backlog of untested rape kits in the U.S.- 400,000, The Human Rights Watch says it is the biggest violation to American women"- Julie Smolyanski, CEO & Director of Lifeway Foods

"Only 2 cents of every development dollar goes to girls"- Maz Kessler, Catapult

"People assume that the U.S. is investing in girls... we give more money to animal causes"- Ruma Bose, Innovator's Fund Partner

"There are times when pushing the women's story is problematic... you have to get men interested"- Carol Hymowitz, Bloomberg Editor-at-Large

"Women challenge the status quo because we are never IT"- Cindy Gallop, CEO IfWeRanTheWorld

"If we inspire the next generation to become scientists, some will practice hard science...the rest will practice the scientific method, so everyone wins"- Rita J. King, EVP for Business Development @ Science House Foundation
"Instead of asking for an opportunity, tell someone what you can do for them...amplify your own ability to succeed by connecting:- Rita J. King


On Mentorship vs. Sponsorship:

"The Godfather Principle...If you only associate with people on your level, you are doing yourself a disservice"

"Lead by giving; be indispensable; create goodwill to make someone want to take an interest in you; take the initiative"

"We need to stop judging each other, because we are holding each other back with reinforcing perceptions"- Caroline Ghosn, Co-founder & CEO Levo Lounge

"Take B Vitamins to lower your carb cravings!"

"A man is not a financial plan...the lizard brain we have...that someone will be there to take care of us" Manisha Thakor, Founder & CEO Moneyzen Wealth Management


And for the ever-learning writer in all of us, a matter of contention to be cleared up...semicolon versus colon!

When It Rains It Surely Pours...Thoughts on SHE Summit, Same Sky and The Athena Phenomenon- Part 1

I had been depressed for a while now. It comes in bursts after a period of latency, crowding out my innovative, get-up-and-do spirit, and making it that much harder to feel effective and inspired to get out of whatever funk I found myself in. It's not like I forgot my Happy Black Woman challenge, it's just a culmination of long work hours at this new job (which has been rich combination of experiences challenges met and ideas fostered) and pressures from my mother (bless her, really!) to keep looking for The Job Opening that would really launch my career.

Let me just say that for a while after graduating from NYU, I really was gunning for a career that matched my thesis study, something in the international development, sustainable human rights work, etc. realm. I still am very much interested in working on those issues, and including the equally important environmental, immigration, civic duty and community activism tracks. My problem has always been that I didn't know how to find the career guidance and support I so craved. I grew up with two dichotomies that I still find myself on the odd sides of, depending on my hormone cycle:
1- Ask and ye shall receive (whether this was ask God, ask a friend, ask the various relatives that my mother did or did not have good terms with (at the wrong intervals, it seemed to me. whole other blog topic, that one...)).
2- Don't be so needy, research and find your own way, be independent and innovative.

Both of these in their own ways are noble and commendable mandates, but they get confusing and overwhelming when one considers one's upbringing, current financial state and personal anxiety/depression issues/agnostic issues.

I wanted (and still want) to do everything! I want to tackle why New York City youth are bombarded by the seduction of spending, without the focused and dedicated tutelage from our various school systems on the subject of responsible personal finance. In fact, let's start teaching them in the 5th grade, and not wait for high school impulsive hormones to cloud their judgments.

I want to seek out and engage the people that are helping bring the immense problem of sex trafficking women and girls in this city as well as globally (especially in my home region of Latin America and the Caribbean). This problem alone is undercutting the next generation of women via economic devaluation, plain old abuse and psychological as well as sexual slavery. Where will our leaders come from and to whom will they speak if they still feel their (and their subject audience's) value stems from which man "protects" her? If she still feels that her voice holds no water weight unless a champion steps forth from among the lions in the same vicious arena of spectators?

My mind races now, trying to get these sentiments out, but sometimes it paralyzes me with the sheer enormity of how many issues there are to be solved in this world, in this city! Which one do I pick up and champion? how do I get involved in a meaningful, not to overwhelming, and possibly life-uplifting way? When I say life-uplifting, in this case, I am talking about the dedication of putting long hours into a project/career/job that supports me coming out of my own personal debt, being able to pay all of my bills every month instead of robbing my own bank accounts; the ability to stop stressing about providing for my mother and sisters; the courage to take challenges wherever in the world knowing that my value is beyond how much income I can generate for a company, like a highly educated milk cow.

Enter one dispirited afternoon of reading emails. Every so often, I see what LivingSocial is offering the public. Sure, a vacation to St. Petersburg is on my list, but when I saw the words SHE Summit, I was really intrigued. I had never heard of Claudia Chan and her organization, but I do know a good deal when I see it. I immediately signed up to attend this women-focused conference, and jumped on the opportunity that it offered for me to volunteer with registration and setup.

I swear, volunteering has been changing my life in the past year in more ways than I can really attribute, and I am determined to find a way into My Career through continued service to my community. I decided that I would take Friday off of work and take the 7am to 2pm registration desk shift. I didn't leave until about 7:30pm; how ambition really drives the eager soul, sometimes! I did get to speak with some amazing and inspiring co-volunteers and sponsors, exchange some emails and business cards and even dole out some of my own wisdom and insights to fellow women.

This morning I jumped out of bed at 5:41 and have been excited about going to the conference today as an attendee. I was tweeting and taking picture to upload to Facebook and I truly have a renewed spirit to take on The Issues At Hand. I think I have even beat this confounded writer's block!

Stay tuned for round two!

In the Winter of Our Times, The Bittersweet

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have Promises to Keep,
And Miles to go Before I sleep,
And Miles to go Before I sleep"
- Robert Frost, 1922

I keep coming back to this final stanza by one of the modern (20th Century) poems I greatly admire, "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening". My grandfather was only six years old when it was first published a year later. Why is this significant to me now? Well, it is the first official day of the coldest and darkest season of the year in North America, and usually not my favorite. Like most humans (I would imagine), I seek light, warmth, and shelter not unlike the lower animal beings, but we have also develped this habit over the years of gathering by said light warmth and shelter and opening these curious things called books. Some of us even presume to mull our thoughts over and commit the results to paper (or computer), following a grand tradition of contemplative writing.

This poem, in particular, has stayed with me all the years since I first read it in high school, because it reflects many things recently occurring in my personal life as well as the world's collective experience. At different points, this stanza was a mantra to "keep going", to not give up into despair and self-destructive thoughts. I remember this as clearly as I can recite "The Lord is My Shepherd", and I find that they complement each other, in a way. Now, it reminds me to stop a while and reflect, admire tranquility, simple beauties often overlooked or disparaged. It has always been the kind of thing my mind wanders to when I am feeling particularly alone and cold walking about by myself, which often happens in this time of the year. Funny that my birthday falls on one such day, practically in the middle of winter, as a constant challenge to my continued determination to exist with significance and purpose.

I stumbled upon a rather engaging website called mental_floss where I could literally wallow away any down feelings with as many trivia facts and theories that my mind could absorb. Imagine my pleasure to find a poignant and thoroughly appropriate list of select quotations from Mister Fred Rogers, a PBS staple in my childhood home.

Mister Rogers, Robert Frost and Bob Ross... sigh....

Please enjoy below, especially #3...
- The wisdom of Mister Rogers... mental_floss

I am glad that a lot of hard discussions are currently at the forefront of public consciousness and media coverage. In the past week, a lost soul reached his breaking point and killed his mother, 20 6- and 7-year-olds, six courageous educators and then himself. We also more quietly welcomed back into safety veteran NBC news anchor Richard Engel and his crew from Syrian abductees. Large tragedies and small miracles abound in both stories continuing to unfold. We have some major decisions to be made as a nation of many peoples but one destiny. One day we will all be gone, but it remains to be seen, what or whom will be forgotten.

I leave you with this...

Transitions

The eve of winter is nigh... the shortest and darkest day of the year in these parts, and although it is a symbolic death, it also summons the sun back to its lofty perch. Last week I saw The Hobbit by myself because I didn't want to pay $21 to try and get into the same theater that my friends were watching with their tickets bought in September. Plus I am not the biggest IMAX-and-3D junkie. I was a bit sad that I didn't have anyone there to commiserate with on plots, or to wake me up when I dozed off during one of the drawn out under-the-mountain hikes the Dwarves embarked upon.

It really is funny when I think about it, how my life this year had its twists and turns emotionally, yet some aspects were a singular consistent trajectory away from one thing towards another. The statement that entered my mind at the beginning of the year, when I celebrated my 30th birthday was, "I am nobody's princess, so I will have to be my own warrior". I kind of kept this as a secret mantra, to keep reminding myself of what I wanted and needed to accomplish to feel better about myself and pull myself out of the emotional rut of the previous year.

I didn't really have a clear battle plan for how to be my own warrior though. I knew that I had to stop feeling sorry for my failures in my romantic relationships, and stop being fatalistic that I would never find anyone again that would love me for me and genuinely pursue my attention and embrace. Being rejected really is shell-shocking on a certain level. I have dealt with my own discouragement after applying for jobs and fellowships, worried that I was not good enough, and having my fears confirmed. I have even felt my faith in my current arrangement falter just enough to lose the will to put my best effort in, but cynically not enough to completely walk away into the promising blank slate of what's next....

I wanted adventure but I was too stung by previous folly to even pull out the map this time and place my finger down blindly.

It has always been time to build the roads on that map, though. To get out there in the jungle even by speedboat on the river, if necessary, and cut one's way back, forging a path to be the first installation of a new route. So I have had to ask myself what kind of woman would I be. I wish I were in some kind of epic film where some alpha leader-type character would address a group,asking who would take up arms or join the scouting party through dangerous terrain. "I can't promise you will all return," that person always warns, but I stand up anyway, or I even yell out my own supporting leadership call. "We will take the North road and rendezvous at the fork in the path at sunset", something like that.

Sometimes one has to decide whether it is fitting to remain in an underpaying, uninspiring position, or pursue one where professionalism ultimately must overshadow previous intimacies, for the sake of a genuine chance to prove one's inherent higher value. When do you protect the king or defect with a small contingent? Why is this so grimly battle-themed? Am I just in a romanticized fantasy-based mood to deflect from other tormented thoughts in my current state? What if I don't get this job anyway? I hope that I won't dissolve into a puddle of desperation. Maybe I should quit at the end of the year anyway and book that ticket to Spain, M....