So, Is This Marriage Thing Contagious?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Victim or Victor Mentality – All Up to You

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

“Your attitude determines your altitude.”

“Positive thinking brings about positive situations.”

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

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

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

My Experiments With Networking (Online and Off)

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

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

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

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

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

Adventures in Babysitting

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

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

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

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

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

Leisa and the Lake

For almost of a third of the 10 years I’ve lived in Dallas, I’ve been by White Rock Lake.

Lakeside photography

In 2009, when I broke up with my ex-fiance and moved from the Highland Park/University Park area where I had attended college and lived most of seven years I’d been in Dallas, I chose a quiet community in East Dallas. I didn’t know anyone in the area and it was far enough away from my previous situation that it felt like a new start. One of the features that sold me was “lakeside access,” meaning if you have an extra five minutes, you can walk along the man-made lake and enjoy the scenery. I took my dog (reference below) with me, and we became patrons of the lake. She was my running buddy, when I had more time for those kinds of things, and sometimes just a slow stroll partner.

Never forget this face.

The bike and run path that circumnavigates the lake is about nine miles around – trust me I searched for the details after a very laborious first lap around the lake on my new bike – and connects with the bike trails around the city like the Santa Fe Trail and Katy Trail. There is a passionate community of people in the bike/hike trail community who are consistently raising money to help make Dallas a more navigable city.

Now, after a two year respite, I’m back by the Lake – actually, just down the road from where I first lived back in 2009. And I have lake access again. I’m going to start sharing the sights and sounds of my long dog walks, bike laps and jaunts down to the lake. Today, on a long walk with Forti, I saw a family practicing fitness (complete with boxing gloves) and a pelican hanging out on the water. In the last few visits, the lake has given me two men under an umbrella in a Peanuts-like “Free Advice” booth, a older woman wearing all pink everything giving it her all in a nice jog and house envy from the gorgeous lakeside estates.

As the weather warms up (and the fact that it’s 63 on February 2 gives me hope that it will keep improving), I’ll be getting back out there on my bike and taking in more sights, which I’ll then share on here. I’ll try to take some pictures too!

The “falls” under the bridge off Garland Road.

 

Where Are You Running?

Hey, Happy New Year and all that jazz. Yes, I recognize that it is January 26, it’s been a while. Since I don’t really do resolutions, I didn’t have the desire to write an obligatory “This is how I’ll conquer the world in 2013 by [insert betterment].” Not really my style. The changes of my life are usually a steady progression, a series of actions (and inactions) that lead to a conclusion of my own (usually) choosing.

I decided, after a bout of anxiety and self-doubt, to begin working with a life coach – though she wouldn’t agree with that title. I say “life” and “coach” because that is the area in which we are focusing and that is the role she plays for me, coach. Her name is Dawn Mitchell, check her out. She’s kind of a big deal and I vouch for her.

In our biweekly conversations, we touch on quite a few topics, from work to personal to spiritual. Imagine one of the more enriching and empowering conversations you’ve had and you’re on the right path. Today, we got on a thread that is still resounding with me almost an hour later. And it was inspired by a recent episode of “Scandal.”

Yes, yes I am one of the Scandal fanatics. Stans scare me, I’m just a fanatic, right above fan. Anyway, before I go down that road, let me focus on the scene in particular that I referenced.

The important part starts about 1:00 in, when Olivia, the communication strategist running Fitz’s (the second character in the scene) presidential campaign, tells him that he’s running “like he’s being chased,” not like he wants to “cross the finish line first.” That got me thinking about the situations in which we find ourselves, in the transitions of life between where we are and where we want to be. As Dawn and I discussed, often our motivation when we’ve reached the end of one situation in life is more moving away from that place than moving toward something better. Think of the toxic friend, the shiftless beau, the dead-end job: the thought, I’m sure, was “I’m done with [this person/job/circumstance]” rather than “I’m ready for the next and better.”

We should stop that thinking. Life’s changes should be purposeful, for improvement and not for escaping. So though I don’t believe in resolutions, I do believe in truths and I think I found a new one. I no longer want to run from my circumstances, because often that is how you end up repeating the same situation with the same life-draining frenemy, ne’er-do-well partner and routine job with no prospects for growth. My journey is purposeful, centered on goals, inspiration and a step forward. I’m running and I have a finish line, not a circuitous route.