This Is about Money and Friend$

Hello there friends and foes. It's been a lil minute, hasn't it?

There are roughly 8 topics floating through my brain's atmosphere that I'd like to discuss at some point, but I know it's most effective to do things one at a time. I hope you can excuse my 2 month hiatus. I was studying for the LSAT -__-

So anyway, I visited a few friends in Boston a few weeks ago and this phrase came up: "Money is awkward between friends." 

To be more specific, the phrase was said by this friend. Hi Pat. =)

Sometimes I marvel at how influential these pieces of paper can be. Money can make you feel powerful, inferior, comfortable, nervous, limitless, or stuck. I guess it all depends on how much you have and how much you think you need.

Before I had my first real job, before I had my first joke job, before I had a bank account, before I received an allowance, I could see simple differences between people who had more money and those who had less. More specifically I was sensitive to people who had more money than me. The appropriate term here would technically be "wealth" but I didn't know what that was when I was little. Or perhaps I was using visual cues to discern socioeconomic levels, but again, I didn't know what that was as a kid. I just knew money was involved.

I remember my first play date with a new friend at my new school. I was seven. I remember wondering if we'd get lost in her house. I remember thinking her house would come to an end, but she just kept taking me into new rooms to play with something else. I knew that her parents had impressive jobs, and impressive jobs dole out impressive money, and impressive money means you get yourself a big, big house.

Sadly, one of the most potent memories I have from that day is the shame that set in when my friend and her mom dropped me back at my house. We had just moved into that house maybe a few months before, and on any other day, I was in love with it. But on that day, I was nervous that my friend and her mom would think less of me and my parents because our house wasn't as big as theirs. I'm not sure where I got this notion, because kids aren't supposed to think about stuff like that. They're supposed to be carefree and innocent, but there I was thinking this girl would judge me because we weren't in the same socioeconomic class.

Thoughts like that continued throughout my time at my small private all girls' school. My parents worked extremely hard to get me there. Clearly now I have a better idea of the sacrifices they made, but even then I knew that it was something to be grateful for. From my observation, that often seemed to be a difference between the kids that received financial aid and those that didn't. Receiving financial aid and having my parents work so hard for me to have such an exemplary education, I was grateful to be there, for some students, this was just the norm, they were just going to school. There were times when I slipped into that mind frame. You get used to certain things when you're exposed to them at age 6.

Even though I could make connections about my family's financial situation. I was a still a child, and wanted everything my friends had. Let's be real, as a teenager I wanted everything my friends had, and even still as adult, that hasn't really changed.

One of the biggest money related concepts that I had (and still have) a hard time wrapping my head around was having access to a parent's credit card. That is access that I have never had and never will have. Although, I have often been a beneficiary of said cards, through my friends, getting a free meal here and there. The first couple of times in high school when I first heard my friends say "Oh, it's on Bruce tonight" (I intentionally picked a random name, I hope,) I was just so baffled. To my understanding, these cards are typically intended for "emergency use only." I guess sometimes buffalo chicken wings are an emergency. That wasn't even sarcasm. I mean, okay, technically it was, but real talk, we've all been there.

Please don't think I'm playing some pity card here. My family lives a comfortable middle class American life, but I've just always been hyper-aware of my economic status in relation to my peers. I worked every semester of college, so I could afford (most of the time) to participate in the activities of my social group. For some of my friends, working was more of a choice, not a necessity. Unfortunately, food and alcohol are not free. That's what college students spend their money on. That hasn't really changed, except now add student loans to the mix (kill me).

Now, things get a little tricky when money is exchanged. What I was talking about before, that's all personal, and how you decided to feel about your socioeconomic status effecting how you feel in relation to your friends, that's mostly your choice. But sometimes these little scenarios pop up and it just so damn uncomfortable.

DISCLAIMER: THE FOLLOWING SCENARIOS ARE VARIOUS ENCOUNTERS THAT HAVE OCCURRED MORE TIMES THAN I CAN COUNT, MERGED INTO 3 LITTLE DITTIES (REFERENCES STARTING WAY BACK IN MIDDLE SCHOOL WHEN WE WERE FIRST ALLOWED TO GO TO THE MALL BY OURSELVES AND SPEND THE MONEY OUR PARENTS GAVE US.) I'M WRITING THIS IN ALL CAPS BECAUSE I DON'T WANT ANYONE TO READ THIS AND SAY "OH SNAP, I TOTALLY OWE EKAETTE $6, DOES SHE HATE ME?" NO I DON'T HATE YOU.

Moving on to the ditties....

When you buy something for your friend that costs $7 and he gives you $5, is it petty to tell him that he still owes you $2? What if you can see that there is more cash in his wallet, but oh maybe he doesn't have any smaller bills? In that moment, if you're like me (poor, trying to save money to buy a car/trying to save up money for law school) all those $2 deficits start to add up. But it's just $2 so you tell yourself to get over it. But clearly since I'm writing about it... looks like I'm not over it? Oops. It's just like I feel like I'm being challenged. I don't hang around anyone who can't read numbers (no slow pokes on my team) so when someone gives me the wrong dollar amount, it's just like are you guessing how much you owe me... because if you didn't know, I assume you would ask. So the alternative is, you think this smaller amount is "good enough." It is only "good enough" if the person who you're giving the money to says "oh five is good." Don't assume. Also, if you only have five bucks... tell your friend you only have five bucks instead of making this awkward scenario happen. Sorry I'm a Taurus, I'm pretty sure being protective over finances is one of our traits. Or maybe I just made that up, but I feel like I've read that...

What about when you order food, but your friend doesn't, and then food comes to the table looking and smelling so gloriously delicious. And then your friend looks so, so sad, so you give her a piece. And in your head you say, "you know what, that's on me." And even though you say it in your head, it's understood by your friend. She's not going to give you $3 for eating a quarter of your entree that you probably shouldn't eat all of anyway because portion size in this country is out of control, so technically she's helping you evade obesity. But then your friend is like "damnnnn, this is wonderful," and she doesn't make eye contact with you while she's telling you her new creepy co-worker who sports a foot long man-ponytail because she's staring at your food. So then your friend eats half of your plate. Literally. The check comes. She only pays for her diet coke. That's awkward right? Now you have a choice to make. If you happen to be spending more time with her doing things that will cost money, perhaps your move at this later venture is to say, "Oh you got me, since you ate half of my calzone, right?" And then your friend can't really say no... because she's your friend and she ate half of your calzone. But if you were just meeting a friend you don't see very often, and she claimed she wasn't hungry, but then she smashed on your calzone, you gotta buck up, face the awkwardness and tell her she's gotta throw down some more dollars.

Then we have the moochers. The friend that never has cash when you take a cab and says he'll buy you a drink later but never does. The friend that asks if you can have a slice of your pizza but before you know it 4 slices are gone. If you are a moocher, your friends will figure that out about you, and they will treat you as such. I'm kind of treating this paragraph like a PSA, because I genuinely believe most moochers feel that they are existing undetected. Just know that if you cause your friend to pay $10 for a cab when they only owed $3, he's probably going to hate you for a little bit. Not forever, unless you're friends with horrible people, but definitely for a little bit. Do you want people to hate you for a little bit? Probably not. Go to the ATM before you venture out with your friends, that is part of adulthood. And if you forgot, apologize, and make a point to pay for the first round, it's only right.

This post started out a bit more seriously and then I digressed, I think I actually do that a lot... sorry, hope you're still following. So here's my perspective about being on the other side of the dollar. By other side of the dollar, I mean to say being the person who owes, not sure if that was clear. Sometimes, your friends cover you, because they know you're poor, maybe poorer than them at the moment, and they're being nice. I think we find things like this so "touching" because you feel loved when someone is willing to part with a certain amount of money just for you. I know... It's the thought that counts, the reasoning behind it, the end goal blah blah. But I think a part of you is thinking, "Wow they were willing to let that precious currency go, just for little old me? I must be special!" But then what if you can't afford to pay them back. They say it's okay, and they sincerely mean that, but you don't want to the pity case. So then you have that whole dilemma.

So the awkwardness is seemingly inescapable. Some people subscribe to "it's only awkward if you make it awkward." That would be true if you were alone on the earth and there was no other living creature. Someone else can make it awkward, quite easily. I don't understand why that phrase exists. I also despise people that say "I never feel awkward." That's just a lie and you trying to make people think you're cool. If you have to try to make people think you're cool, then you're most likely the worst, so just shut it. And if you are reading this thinking that I'm a hypocrite because you've heard me say "I'm not an awkward person," I still stand by that statement. There is a difference between those assertions, I promise.

I was recently talking to someone about what my goal is with this blog. Simply stated, sometimes I have some thoughts in the ole noggin, and I wonder if people have thought about it too, but if not maybe they will after reading. This is also such a gratifying outlet because sometimes people actually read and appreciate what I write and then they want to talk to me about it! I can't even describe how ridiculously happy that makes me. Also, I haven't forgotten that I have yet to write about AmeriCorps. The anniversary of the day I escaped Iowa and returned to my precious Baltimore soil is fast approaching (December 10th) so I think that's when I'll write that little expose (I can't remember how to type in accents on a PC so just read that the way you know it should be read.) Remember when "ttfn" was a way we would say good bye on AIM? If you don't, the translation is: ta ta for now. Jokes on jokes. Bye.

Etiquette

I've been wanting to talk about etiquette. Don't worry, I am aware that it's very broad topic, but as always, I will attempt to create a narrow enough focus to make you not hate reading this. It started plaguing my mind recently because a friend, who I know has her iPhone religiously stapled to her palm, did not return my text in a timely manner. That annoyingly common small incident made me think about other things that I expect people to do. Since I've started my new job, I've also been thinking about work place etiquette; that subject is simply endless. I also ruminated on etiquette involved with just talking to your friends and family (this I mean in terms of content, not necessarily use of media... hopefully that will become clearer momentarily.) I could probably make these 3 different posts, but I'm thinking about it all now, so it here it all goes.

I'm starting with....

WORK PLACE. I know that does not follow the order I so carefully revealed in my opening paragraph, but whatever, I do what I want. I feel like phone etiquette will transition well into friend etiquette so I stand by my new decision. So the workplace. I'm going to be careful about what I write here. I can't afford to lose that steady paycheck now, student loans are not a joke. (Side note: I meant to write a post with a title something like "I Am Ryan, The Temp," but apparently that never happened. Anyway, I am a temp right now, and *fingers crossed* soon to be permanent hire. WOO. Actually that's pretty real, I'll write a more legitimate post about that later.) There are three items on my list of office etiquette qualms. Well three items I feel that I can safely and respectfully delve into publicly. I apologize in advance, or perhaps already too late, for the extensive use of the word etiquette.

Item #1: Greetings.

I have a very real issue with people who are unfamiliar with how to greet other human beings. In my eyes, it should be a very simple process. You see someone for the first time that day in the office, you say: hi, hello, hey, good morning, how are you, etc. If you're not up for that, you can employ the smile and nod. My point is, you need to acknowledge that you see the human being you are walking by.  I was going to say "as the new girl" in the office, but as mentioned a post or two ago,  I'm trying to move towards calling 'em like I see 'em. When I answer the phone I say "this is Ms. Obot speaking," not "This is Ekaette (or Kae.)" Sometimes people on the phone call me Mrs. Obot and that really tickles me, because yayyyy someone thinks I sound like an adult. That contrasts sharply with the immediate offense I feel in person when people ask me if I have children, because I know I look like I'm 19. But I digress. Wow I digressed quite a bit... whoops. So what I was saying was, as the new person in the office, I assumed everyone would be greeting me left and right.  Not the case.

It was/still is a very interesting dynamic. Some people made a direct point to introduce themselves to me. Others did not. I know all of the managers and the CFO and CEO. They are all quite friendly. They feel comfortable making jokes with me in passing, they say good morning to me, they ask me if I have anything good for lunch that day. 

The way my desk is set up, pretty much everyone in the office has to walk by me at some point in their work day. My computer is facing this walkway and there is no wall. The point is, you can see me, so you have to actively decide not to say hello to me. When people walk to their offices they pass a conference room, my boss's boss's office, and then me. There's no getting around it. Certain people would greet my boss's boss as they made their way down the hall, fall silent when they passed my desk, and tnen continue to say good morning once they arrived at the next desk. Obviously these people were among those who never introduced themselves to me in the first place. These people earned a big red "R" on their foreheads. The "R" stands for rude.

After a week, I started pointedly greeting these rude folks. And when they'd look at me, apparently so startled that I spoke to them, I'd have a very well crafted look on my face. Anyone who knows me, knows I can give a look. I used to be unaware that my face was even capable looks (it caused me quite a bit of trouble growing up), so now I try to use it to my advantage.

The look says this:

Oh. You weren't gonna say good morning? What? Do you think you're too cute to say good morning? Am I not good enough for a good morning from you? I guarantee you that I am, because I'm pleasant, dammit! But I can't be fully pleasant when you're being rude. So now that I've accosted you with this greeting, I hope you take some time to reflect on your rudeness. Don't you feel weird being rude to a person who is smiling at you so warmly, but her eyes say "get your shit together".. because you should.

All that in a brief look, you ask.

Yes.

Item #2: Bathroom Manners

This one won't be as long but I still feel very passionate about it. We have 4 bathrooms in our office. Two are co-ed, one is women only, one is men only. Since I started working there in late May and up until yesterday, some of these adults do not know how to approach a bathroom. It's single stall, so you think it would be obvious to knock and wait for a response before aggressively trying to break down the door. But nope. Apparently some people's parents did not teach them that. Once while I was loudly screaming "OCCUPIED" someone almost broke the lock trying to get in. I guess he or she couldn't hear me screaming over the sound of his or her beast like force. That scary episode has darkened my day 3 times since.

Then we have the opposite, which might be arguably worse. There are people who do not lock the door and elect to say absolutely diddly squat when someone knocks and opens the door. Have you no decency?? I didn't want to expose you.. that's why I knocked. I can only conclude that you wanted to me to expose you, because I know you're not a mute. That also leads me to my second conclusion that you are in fact, the worst. I just want to emphasize that these people struggling are adults, not toddlers just learning to potty train. This struggle is astonishing in the worst way.

Item #3: The Name Game

Alright, so we all know I have a "complicated" name. Even some of my best friends are under the impression that my name is really long. But it's only 7 letters, 15 if you include middle and last. So seriously how hard could it be? My first couple of days at work when I told people my name, most people would ask "Okay, what's your nickname?" No attempt whatsoever to pronounce what was just said to them. For people like the CEO and CFO I didn't mind as much. I was told jokingly that it was impressive for them to remember names in the first place. I would just like to point out that learning how to say my 4 syllable, 7 letter first name would make you more likely to remember my name since you actually have to put in effort to learn what it is. I can't tell you how many people named John or Sarah I've met in my life, I'm really supposed to remember Sarah number 27? No offense to any John or Sarah that is reading this, I'm just trying to make a point. When I meet someone with a new name, I don't forget it because it's interesting and unique. My friend Meena for example, given her name isn't complicated, but I don't know anyone else with that name.

This is Meena. Isn't she pretty?

I just find it pretty offsetting when people tell me that they don't care enough to put aside a few extra seconds to learn my name or even attempt to pronounce it once. Some people did show me the slight courtesy of asking what my nick name was and then asking which I prefer. I think it's pretty obvious that I prefer being called the name that I said initially. One woman asked me how to say my name after had been working there after about a month and half, because she was forced to interact with me directly. -_- I picked up most people's names just from hearing people talk and putting some pieces together. I guess that's what I was expected to do. It was intriguing to me that some people who had never introduced themselves, expected me to know who they were when they needed something from me. I would take those opportunities to say "I'm sorry, what's your name? I don't think we've ever been introduced," always using another one of my looks to communicate, YOU have never introduced yourself to me, Rudeness. I capitalized the "R" there because I'm using Rudeness as a proper noun.

Now now, don't go around thinking I'm being a big baby. I realize people are rude and that's the way of the world, but I figured that would happen in professional settings on a larger scale. This is office is not big enough for that kind of nonsense. In terms of literal space and number of people. But I guess I can't have it all, which is a valuable lesson that I need to learn. I started to learn that in AmeriCorps (still need to write about that, sorry) and I'm continuing to learn that working in the real world. The lesson being: Not everyone is polite, and not everyone will like you. I think of myself as a pretty likable person, and I honestly think of that as a marketable skill. Because let me tell you, not everyone is likable. And if you are one of those people that thinks everyone is likable... everyone probably dislikes that about you. Haha too much? 

Then I had to remind myself that this specific office community existed before I entered it. It makes sense with any position, anywhere, that once you're on board you could very well be walking into some drama that you have no idea bout. Sometimes you can't enter a situation with a clean slate, because the circumstances just don't allow it. But I've decided to be okay with this. I can't be more specific than that about this drama that I'm alluding to, because I don't think it would be appropriate. But perhaps I could be crafty about it at a later time. 

Okay, okay, enough of that. Now let's talk about... 

PHONES. I mostly want to address certain people not responding to things in an appropriate time frame and people (typically the same people) who cannot hold a decent conversation in person because they cannot refrain from texting. If I talked about all my cell phone issues, we'd be all night. (I was initially going to write "we be all night," ode to Bey~, but I didn't know if it would have been immediately recognized and appreciated, so I'm just doing it here.) I would like to start a movement. I know it won't be worldwide, nationwide, region wide, state wide, or city wide, I'm just gonna look out for me right now, and perhaps people in my circle would take heed and we can a get lil' ripple effect to pop off. When I am talking to you face to face, I should take 1000% precedent over someone who is sending you a text which is probably not life threatening. Sometimes I'll say something to you that requires an immediate response. I don't know maybe because we were having a conversation. 

And then there is this pause. Because you are texting someone. Sometimes I had just said something funny, and a laugh was expected and required. Sometimes I had just said something that made me feel a little vulnerable and I needed you to verify if what I said was okay. The laugh doesn't count 6 seconds later. The comfort is no longer comforting after you say "hold on let me send this text." Then I have to sit there, dismissed, while you communicate with someone who apparently is more important. I would like to point out something that I used to believe was obvious, but enough annoying encounters have proven to me that it is not apparent to everyone. Unless you are texting some weird, needy sucker, he will not notice if your text is delivered 10 seconds later because you took a moment to not be rude to the person sitting right next to you. 

Now on the flip side of this, when you demonstrate that texting gives you *life*, and you would rather make an in person conversation awkward or annoying just so that your texting life flows smoothly, that creates certain expectations for when I text you. I'm sure everyone knows which of their friends don't put their phones down. We know this about our friends because when we are in their presence, they don't put their phones down (easy detective work.) And, we would like to assume that we are just as entertaining as the next person, so this must be the norm for every person that ole phone-hand comes into contact with. I would say that these phone-hand people know who they are, but maybe they don't. Maybe it's become too much of the norm. 

I've been guilty of phone-hand situation as well. I know exactly when it happens. 1) When I'm texting a new boy.. 2) When I'm doing it to someone who had been doing it to me a lot that day, or right in the middle of them doing it. 

Sorry about scenario 1. But at least I can admit it, and at least it's specific and not chronic. As for scenario 2, I'm not sure if it's actually effective. Maybe when I join my comrades in phone-hand, they are having a silent sigh of relief, praising the heavens that I no longer would like to engage in face to face communication with them and have finally found someone else, somewhere else, to talk to instead. But let me not put words in their thought bubbles. I don't know what they're thinking. I cannot really decipher the minds of the phone-hand clan. But if you are my friend, and you read this, I hope you don't do it to me anymore, because I hate it, and I don't want to hate you.

I know what you're thinking. Don't be a punk. Why wouldn't you just tell your friends that in person?

And that brings me seamlessly to etiquette issue three...

Shall we call this... FRIENDIQUETTE? One of the nice things about friends is that you don't have to be as nice to them as you are to strangers. Isn't that weird? I learned in a recent customer service training at work that at Disney World, the most common question that people ask the workers is: What time is the 3 o'clock parade? 

Now as a professional, they have to answer the question, with a smile on their face. If my friend asked me that question, I would laugh and make fun of her immediately. I'm pretty sure that's not just me, I think that's part of being close with a people. You don't have to put up a front of politeness, you can be real with them. If they ask a dumb question, you can laugh. If they're about to do something stupid, you can tell them why it's stupid. If you're worried about a decision they've made or haven't made, you can tell them, because you are there to support them, it's not just a judgmental outsider perspective. 

There are many factors that go into this. Delivery is a big one. There's a fine line between being honest and being the worst. How honest can you be with a person before it becomes too much? Is it kosher to tell someone that he or she is irritating you? Is that allowed? Or are we just supposed to be passive aggressive until we eventually get over whatever the situation is? I guess the answer goes to back to delivery, it's all in the details. The way you say things are sometimes more important than the thing that's actually said. You have to think about how that person is going to react to what you say, and determine whether or not that reaction is something you're prepared to deal with. Sometimes I don't think people think about the reaction part. For example, anytime my mother says anything to upset me, I simply ask her how she thought I was going to react. She always knows the answer, but it becomes apparent that she either didn't think about it or was hoping that I had magically become a little less like myself. 

That's usually the case with me. On the rare occasion that I actually am brutally honest with someone about a tough or uncomfortable topic, I hope that he or she will react in the understanding, elevated way. But this usually isn't the case. We're dealing with humans here. We have egos. We have emotions. The truth is not always something that we want to hear, or will even accept as fact. And I know my delivery isn't the best. Though I will say this, I will initially make a concerted effort to deliver my thoughts in the most digestible way possible, when I'm dealing with a tender topic. If we're talking about something that doesn't necessarily deal with emotions or possible hurt feelings that could linger past that one isolated moment, then you know me, that sass is off the chain. 

I'm not 100% honest with everyone all the time. I don't believe that anyone is, that might be exhausting. But as I'm getting older, I'm seeing that I owe it to myself, my friends, and family to be real with them. My coping mechanism with unpleasantness is typically to hold it in, pull back from whomever and whatever the unpleasantness stemmed from, and eventually drift back, if possible, once my anger or whatever emotion I'm feeling passes. I'm realizing this is not healthy. Some things just have to be addressed. So bear with me, as I try to figure out what the proper etiquette is there. This doesn't mean I'm going around tearing people apart every time I have an undesirable interaction with them, I'm classier than that. I wouldn't want someone freaking out at me every time I did something she didn't like. But I know I definitely need to reach a better balance. I'll be sure to advertise if I come across any enlightenment on this topic. 

I know there should be some kind of sum-it-all-up paragraph, or at least short statement here. But, this is blog, do I have to do that? Would you have accepted my ending if I had stopped at the last paragraph? I just want to make this enjoyable. If anyone wants to answer these questions I have posed in this paragraph or any of the previous paragraphs. Please don't be shy, these aren't really rhetorical questions. 

Drug Deal

So this is kind of random and I'm not sure if it fits in the context of my blog, but I tried to make my blog broad enough that I could essentially write about anything I desired. About a month ago I witnessed a drug deal. It all went down on the bus in the seats right next to and across from me. The players involved: older man who was not accurately exemplifying that Black don't crack, and two young students (a couple) who looked like they couldn't have been any older than 14 or 15.

I first noticed the young couple because they were holding hands in a way that is too much before 8 am. Out of the corner of my eye I saw their entangled hands get closer to the boy's crotch and just as I was about to look one of them in the eyes and roll mine, I noticed how absolutely striking they were. They were just two beautiful human specimens. I then had a quick day dream where I imagined their future beautiful lives together. I have quick day dreams a lot, they last about 5 seconds. Don't worry it's not creepy. So anyway, they calmed their gross hands down and I went back to listening to my music and pretending that I was on a spaceship (that's what I do in the bus so I don't have to accept the reality that I'm a prisoner on a hell wagon.)

Then a scraggly man plopped down next to me. Growing up in the city, you learn to spot the druggies, the winos, the generally unstable. One can usually differentiate the scary ones from the harmless ones. Too much sweeping generalization? Well it's true, mama always told me to be aware of my surroundings and evaluating the people around me is part of that assessment. So the scraggly man sat down next to me, he didn't smell that delightful, and he was kind of rambling loudly, did not have the appearance of your average upstanding citizen, but he seemed relatively harmless. I hope these are my actual first impressions of this man, but I'm sure they're tainted by what I saw him do, so bear with me.

The boy of the beautiful couple across from me, seemed to make a quick judgment of the scraggly man as well - he assumed he was someone who buy drugs from a teenager before 8 am on a public bus on a school day. The boy asked the man if he "fucked with" something with one eyebrow cocked. I couldn't hear what the something was and the man responded incoherently. Well I guess just incoherently to me. I turned my music down to volume 1. I couldn't decide if I actually wanted to hear what was happening. The boy asked the man if he wanted whatever the indecipherable sketchy thing was right now.  Then the man asked the boy if he had change. The boy didn't, so he asked his girlfriend. She had a really pained look in her eyes but no shock, so this wasn't a first time thing. Apparently this was a casual part of their relationship. I can't even imagine what I would do at age 14 if my boyfriend asked me to give him money to help him facilitate a drug deal. I can't imagine what I would do at age 14 if I found out my boyfriend was dealing drugs. On a bus. In front of dozens of people. I was straight up staring at this girl through my sun glasses. I wanted to help her or something? I wanted to help the boy too. It always pains me when I see Black youth doing something stupid because we all know how easy it is for young black people to become just another statistic. My parents really like the phrase "don't give anyone a reason." Essentially it means don't give anyone a reason to treat you less than you're worth because you're already starting at a social disadvantage being Black and being a woman. I wonder if these kids parents had ever told them that. Obviously I'm not perfect, I've given people reasons, but I at least have tried to steer clear of the illegal ones.

I peeped over and saw that the drug was some kind of pill but it was wrapped in a pink baggy so I didn't get a good look. But that doesn't really matter I guess. A big part of me wanted to ask these kids why they were being so stupid. But you can't do that in Baltimore. You try and nurture the wrong kid and you'll end up cursed out or cut up. So I kept my mouth shut. I wish I had been an old lady, so I could have said "Lawwwwd Jesus, what is this world coming to??" Because old ladies can say whatever they want.

I find that happening to me a lot, the desire to nurture the youth. When I see a girl on the bus whose dress is about to expose her baby maker, I want to say "honey, you can't dress like that in public" because clearly no one has told her or hasn't told her enough or maybe she needs to hear it from more people.

Riding the bus around Baltimore has forced me to look at problems I knew were there but maybe hadn't specifically witnessed first hand. One of the stops along my route to work is right in front of a methadone clinic. I wonder if the clinic is really making a difference. I see a lot of young mothers with multiple children and even more bags and have no idea how they do it. There's usually a few people on the bus every couple days or so who makes me wonder if they are receiving the mental health treatment they need and deserve. This is not meant to be demeaning. Mental health issues typically stir up negative connotations because of the stigma associated. Coming from a public health perspective, I know that people in Baltimore are not getting adequate mental health and that just doesn't make sense to me.

As shady as ole Balty can be sometimes, it's my heart. As soon as I'm out of this selfish rut (read: I'm studying for the LSAT, I literally cannot be bothered by anything else besides work, food, sleep, and the occasional dose of fun), then I am going to work on trying to come up with a solution for the problems I see. I think Baltimore needs a fresh pair of eyes to guide it back to its former glory. Let's not forget Baltimore is one of the oldest cities in America. It's a port city, so back in the day it used to be poppin, if you will.

So even though I absolutely detest riding the bus every day, mostly because of the time, it has its benefits because it gives me time to observe and reflect on life. I've discovered that if 23 is about anything it's definitely about reflection and finding time to do it, since your whole life is ahead of you. It's a pretty big deal, so as scary as it is, you've gotta think about it and assess what things are really important to you.

The drug deal boy was actually on the bus this morning. He was sitting at the back of the bus looking like an adorable lamb who wanted to be something more formidable. I looked at him as if to say,  "Hey buddy,  I hope you're not still dealing drugs and I hope you're on your way to your summer job, or math camp, or your friends house for a wholesome day of basketball and video games." I hope he got all that.

Operation Chocolate Destiny

Operation Chocolate Destiny was a little something I coined during my desolate times in AmeriCorps while I was stationed in Colorado. Essentially, the premise was to find myself a beautiful chocolate skinned man who was dating material. Why I thought this was an appropriate time, I am not sure. This was also when I began my illustrious Pinterest activity. So it was a time of big dreams and pretty things I had no access to. 

I had and have been deprived of this particular brand of man for quite some time. First I went to all girls' school for 12 years (general male deprivation), then I went to the Johns Hopkins University (general chocolate scarcity). I would also like to point out that from now on, I am actively deciding to refer to my male counterparts as men and not boys, sometimes I'll say "guys" if the context is right. I don't know, I don't know, I'm trying to mature or something. A 23 year old male is a man right? And a 23 year old female is a woman not a girl. Or maybe this is the I'm-not-a-girl-not-yet-a-women part of life Britney was complaining about. 

But back to the important stuff. Let me give you some visual examples of Chocolate Destiny. We'll stick to the famous variety as to not embarrass any of my friends, well probably more like associates that I should probably unfriend on Facebook because we're not actually friends, but I haven't yet because they are beautiful. Curse you, Halo Effect. (Sup social psych.)

IDRIS ELBALook at how he's looking you. 

MORRIS CHESTNUTAdmittedly this is not the best picture of him, but this is from The Best Man (1999). If you have not seen this movie, upon viewing it, your life will be changed by how beautiful Morris Chestnut is. Just like, look at his facial hair, look at his skin, his mouth. Look at what I think is a solitary tear as he watches his bride come down the isle. I really, really could go on and on. Woo Lawd.

TYSON BECKFORD:
I wasn't going to post any topless photos to keep this blog at some kind of level. But that's stupid, because look at him. Look. At. Him. With those tat sleeves too, though? I'm definitely having a time as I write this.

ADRIAN PETERSON
I was initially trying to find a picture of him in a suit, but then I thought, nah... 

TORREY SMITH
I can't even think of an adequate caption.

Also, let the record state, I respect these men for their talents as well as their Chocolate Destiny qualities.

I'm not sure what sparked this particular "craving" back in October. All I know is, it hit me hard. The other thing I know is that it couldn't have come at a worse time, you know, being in the middle of Colorado. Chocolate Cowboys are few and far between. Some of you may be thinking that it's pretty obvious why I would be on the look out for a chocolate destiny at any point in time, since I am in fact someone's Chocolate Destiny. (Disclaimer: that wasn't me being full of myself, that was me believing that I am the one person that someone in this world is looking for, a.k.a. his destiny and I am proudly chocolate.) But based on my dating history, chocolate destiny, has not been my pattern. Attractive is attractive no matter the skin color. I really do believe that. And that's just surface level. We all know what counts is what's inside, blah, blah, blah, but that's not what I'm talking about right now.

For the most part, my friends seem to think I'm only interested in dating or even flirting with Black men. Given the social circles I have allowed myself to be comfortable in, you would think that it would be pretty clear that that is not the case. I don't think I've made any bold statements exclaiming any narrow interest in one type of man (not including the unveiling of Operation Chocolate Destiny). Perhaps this is just based on the men I have dated in past, who haven't all been chocolate, but different shades of the brown continuum. In any case, if a friend and I are talking to two guys and one is white chocolate and one is milk chocolate, I am expected to go brown. This is quite unfair for a few reasons. What if the White man is cuter? What if the White man wants to see if he can handle my sass? What if my personality clashes horribly with the Black man and we hate each other? Why are we automatically supposed to get along or even be attracted to each other because of our skin color? Also, my friends know my life story pretty well. They know that I have spent the majority of my life socializing around the creature that is the infamous white male. I'm not sure if there is a discrete way to say, "Hey if the White man is cute, I would like to talk to him." If he's not cute, I will not make a fuss. That's just biology. Don't start thinking I'm shallow. Nobody wants the peacock with one feather, and that is a scientific fact.

On the other hand, some of my aunts and cousins are completely convinced that I'm going to marry a white man a la Sanaa Lathan and Simon Baker in Something New. I'm still very confused about how people can so confidently make such assumptions. Is there some determining factor that I'm blissfully unaware of? Then we have my father who almost had a heart attack when I went to prom with a White boy. I think he thought prom meant dating was involved. We don't specifically discuss it, but I'm pretty sure he would be happiest if I settled down with one someone from my tribe. Not kidding at all. But whatever, I'm not marrying anyone any time soon. So we'll cross that awkward bridge when it's in eyesight. 

So as I'm keeping this operation alive,  there are folks who carry out something to the effect of Operation No Chocolate Destiny. I couldn't tell you the amount of times different friends have told me that they aren't attracted to Black women or men or that they would simply never marry a Black person. Because I'm sure some of you that have made these statements are reading this blog, my questions are: what did you expect my response to be? And did you genuinely expect me not to take any offense? And if you didn't expect me to be offended... why not? It reminds me of how people get a kick out of telling me that their grandparents are racist. Still not sure how I'm expected to respond to that... 

These off color comments (pun intended) come up in discussions with my friends more often then I ever expect. I handle it differently depending on the person amd my mood that day. On more occasions than not, those friends have had to eat their words because one day they found that they could in fact be attracted to a Black person. Sigh.

I know there's some science behind being attracted to the people who look the most like you. We won't be delving into that science here. This is not that kind of blog, or at least not right now as I write this on my bus ride home from work on my tablet phone (which I've just decided to name "Big Berttha.") I don't want to subscribe to that whole look alike notion because it creeps me out. I'm uncertain as to why it doesn't creep out everybody. 

I don't think I said this explicitly, but if you are a Chocolate Destiny reading this right now, please feel free to contact me. I mean the Chocolate Destiny variety with ambitions and such, no scrubs please. I wish I could eloquently express the extent of my seriousness. Actually, if you are a Destiny of any kind that is reading this and feel so moved by my words to the point where you must talk to me because I seem so interesting and fabulous, you can contact me too. Stay tuned for hopefully next week, where I'll be writing my opinions about dating whilst not in school. Because how does one do that?

Token Black Friend

This is a topic I could literally talk about for days on end. That is not an exaggeration, I really mean days on end. Through no true fault of my own, I have been set up in life to be the token Black friend. My parents sent me to private all girls' school at the tender age of six, so you can guess the skin tone of most of the people there. My first day of school I was simply shocked. I had never seen that many White people gathered in one place (in real life) before. For some reason my parents didn't tell me that I would be one of the 5 Black people in my grade out of 45 students. That's about 11%. When you fast forward to Hopkins having 6% Black students, I guess that 11 doesn't sound so bad.

That initial shock didn't take too much of a toll on me. My teachers and classmates were very welcoming. I'm not stating that to imply that my 6 year old self expected White people to mean and terrible, I'm just painting a picture. My school, Bryn Mawr - go Mawrtians - had a very friendly and comfortable environment, especially in lower school. Yes we called it lower school and not elementary school. Sometimes we were a little, uh... pretentious? I'm not sure if that's the word I want to use there, but I think you get my drift. I also used that word in my last post, for all of you who wait for my posts with bated breath, I'm really, really, really sorry. Anyway, I was also very tall in my younger years, which is hard to imagine now since I'm a whopping 5 feet and 3 inches. Just know that I have been this teetering height from the age of 10 in 5th grade. But yes, I was super tall in 1st grade and I was not skinny. Don't get me wrong I wasn't battling childhood obesity, but those other girls... I'm sorry it just looked like they just did not eat food.

My 1st grade friendships were all over the place. In the beginning it seemed like I was just bouncing around from friend group to friend group (some people had already formed relationships because they started going to Bryn Mawr in pre-school, or kindergarten, or even day care.. as in they started going to Bryn Mawr as an infant). Initially I hung out with the only other Black girl in my homeroom, because she was the only other Black girl in my homeroom. But she was pretty mean and I didn't really like her, sadly at that point she was my only option. At some point or another I was accepted into the fold and I was no longer forced to hang out with the bully. 

By 2nd grade I was in my stride. I had my first play date at what was probably one of the biggest houses I had ever seen at that time. People always wanted to be my partner in gym class, people always wanted to sit next me at lunch, I got people in trouble all the time for talking because I was super chatty (I also find it funny that I'm listing that as a positive thing... I don't know, feel free to analyze me), and the teachers seemed to really enjoy me. Side note: I think this is the point in life where I started to think I was really cool. So young right? Most people talk about how they hated middle school because they were so weird and dorky and developing mentally, physically. Or they hated high school because people were so bitchy and crazy, but not me. I loved it all because for some reason I thought I was really cool at all stages of life. This is not true, obviously, but apparently my perceptions of myself seemed to be crafted out of grandiose delusions. This is a topic I'd actually like to really delve into at some point, so we'll save this for later. 

As each grade passed, I had a different best friend. Sometimes it would last for a week or two, sometimes a month, some of those girls are still some of my best friends today. But since I shook off my Black bully friend in first grade, I never really felt compelled to be someone's friend because we were both Black nor have I ever felt like I was in a friend group simply to fill the diversity quota. Now that being said, I guess it's time we break down what the term "token Black friend" means.

Have I ever felt isolated being the only Black person in the room when I'm among a group of my friends? The answer is yes. I can't count the amount of times a joke has been made that seems like it "slipped out" and probably wouldn't have been said in my presence if the person had been paying attention. The most recent time I can recall was someone making a joke about saying the word "knickers" because it sounded close to another word. Apparently the joke was funny. People laughed lightly. I remember wanting the moment to be over so badly. I remember being angry and not knowing if I had the right to be angry. In that moment I couldn't understand why someone would make a joke about the word "nigger" in my presence. Not only in my presence but in an environment and conversation in which I was a full participant. Not only that, it wasn't just someone saying it,  it was my friend. Should I have said something? Should I have voiced my offense right then and there? Was I a coward for not doing so? I always pride myself on being a bold and sassy young lady who isn't one for taking crap from people. But in situations like that I freeze. Anyone who is close friends with me will tell you I'm not one for emotions, so maybe that's what stops me. Maybe the sadness and betrayal I feel when one my best friends can look me in the eye and say the word "nigger" or excuse me "nigga" because she's singing it in a rap song so that makes it okay, maybe that's just too much for me to handle. 

So in those situations, I have experienced the downside of being the token black friend. Throughout middle school and high school I was asked a series of dumb questions including, "is it fun being Black?" And, "will you talk in Ebonics to me?" That last question is interesting because a lot of people in my family  (mostly cousins who think they're funny) have accused me of "talking white" meaning I use correct grammar. The thing is, I have a switch. When I'm not in a professional setting, or around my school friends, I can easily conjugate a verb incorrectly if I see fit. I also think it's sad to associate something as basic as correct grammar with being White...grammar is not a racial barrier.

I don't think the whole any certain way of talking makes you any less Black or less White or whatever, but maybe that's because of the situation I find myself in. I always feel like I'm an authority on White culture because most of my friends are White or some variation of ethnic that is considered White, etcetera, etcetera. I think some of my friends think they know about Black people because they are friends with me, which I find pretty comical and intriguing. Sometimes, I feel like the ambassador of the Black people for my friends. I think it's a good thing, somebody's gotta teach them something. If I have to explain why you don't throw water on a Black girl, especially when she just got her hair done, then I will. I might have saved that person's future life. At the same time, I can't be fully responsible for making sure that a handful of non Black folks can begin to understand a group of people that are so diverse. Even me, growing up with one Nigerian parent, and one Black American, my perception of Black American culture is different from another person with two Jamaican parents or two Black American. 

Not too many of my friends have explicitly asked me about what it's like being the token Black friend. Not many have asked me my stance on the n-word, even the ones who have said it in front of me shamelessly, perhaps I should say especially the ones who have said it in front of me shamelessly. Maybe it's something that only I as the token can bring up without it becoming uncomfortable. I'm not really sure. One friend did ask recently how I felt during my time at Bryn Mawr being part of the small Black minority and we talked about some of the things I wrote in this post. But really what I took away was the fact that she even asked. It showed compassion and a desire to learn something very important about one of her best friends. But this girl, she has a big heart and always goes above and beyond for everyone she loves, so I expect nothing less from her.

Anyway, that's my quick take on my token Black status. Not sure I like that term, I'll work on coming up with something a little less demeaning and a little more accurate. Bye for now.

23 = 1 Year Out

It's been over a month since I've written a post! I keep coming up with ideas for things to write about but I keep getting distracted by fun and responsibility - maybe that's a good thing. I celebrated my 23rd birthday last week and still have 8 days left of this glorious month of May, aka Birthday Month. 23 is an odd age, and people don't usually see it as important or exciting. I'm not sure if it's my infatuation with my birthday that allows me to see a significance in this age, regardless I think it's an interesting point in a young adult's life.

Yesterday I attended the Johns Hopkins University undergraduate commencement ceremony. That sentence seems slightly pretentious, but I think I'm just gonna leave it. Some of my best friends from college are in the JHU class of 2014 and I felt like such a proud mama seeing them walk across that stage just as I did this time last year. Though yesterday was clearly about them and their success, I couldn't help but to reflect on myself 1 year out of college, 1 year with my Bachelor's degree. I thought about my dazed sense of glory on that hot morning last year, smiling for an endless array of pictures with my cap barely clinging to my 'fro. As people shook hands with President Daniels, I recalled with pride the way I casually grabbed his elbow in such a familiar sense, as if he were in fact, my homeboy. Let's be real, he wasn't, but I wanted a good photo opp and I am proud to say, I set that up quite nicely.

Three graduates in the middle of this loving line-up. My first class of babies to graduate - such a proud moment!

A whole year later there I was, at an event I had originally planned to miss. Since I signed up to be in AmeriCorps through the first week of June, I had braced myself to miss Homecoming, Spring Fair, graduations of all sorts, proms, birthdays, and general spring delights and outings. But luckily since I escaped my Iowan hell-hole, I was able to go to all of those events this spring, and the ones still to come. Tonight I even get to see my baby cousin go to her senior prom. I call her my baby because she's the first baby I really remember holding and loving. I remember being in the hospital the day she was born when I was 5, hence she's my baby.

But aside from the niceties of it all, graduation season has made me reflect on myself and what progress I have or have not made since 2013. You see, the majority of people who graduate from college are 23, just like me, when they reach this point of reflection, and that's why I think 23 is relevant. I am a planner, especially for long term goals. My day to day doesn't have to go exactly one way, but there are certain markers that I have set for my future and I plan on reaching them. In order to achieve that, there are certain plans that I have developed. One of those plans was AmeriCorps. I had never intended on entering the entry level job force after graduation. I knew that I wanted to complete an entire year or two of uninterrupted community service and go straight into law school. I had been thinking about resigning from AmeriCorps in October and started looking for jobs so that I could have something lined up when I got home. A call with my parents telling me I wasn't a quitter, quelled my job search at that point. When I officially decided to quit in December it was more of an abrupt I've-reached-my-breaking-point-I-can't-stay-here-another-second decision as opposed to a more calculated and thought out decision which is my typical mode of operation.

That being said, when I came back home, my system was in shock. I definitely had some sort of PTSD and needed to recover from the craziness that endured, so the first month that I was home was spent hugging my bed, hugging my refrigerator, hugging my parents, hugging my friends, and hugging freedom. That last part seems dramatic but I really mean that.

I'm still applying to jobs, trying to break into the legal field. My biggest problem is that I didn't decide on this life path until near the end of my senior year of college. I got an internship with a medical legal partnership right after graduation but it only lasted for a summer because I left for AmeriCorps. I don't necessarily have an adequate amount of experience to work at some of the bigger, well known firms in Baltimore. And there lies the Catch 22, how do I land the experience if I don't get a job to give me said experience.

So at this point my concern becomes money and eliminating gaps on my resume. I'm now working with a temp agency in Baltimore! There is a also a legal branch within this company, so fingers crossed that a temp-to-hire position becomes available for me in the near future. I'm happy to be working with this temp agency but when people ask me what I'm doing with my life, I still wish I could tell them I have a job with a salary and am truly putting my JHU Bachelor's to good use. I'm officially taking the LSAT in September and applying to law school this fall, so I know that I have that to look forward to, but I don't want to come off as any kind of disappointment or failure. I know, I know, it doesn't matter what other people think. But I have to be honest with myself, and I do care, even though I wish I didn't. I know that I am doing my best and working hard to get a job I can be proud of, but I'm not going to say that to every person who asks me what I'm up to these days. I just tell them I'm working with a temp agency and studying for the LSAT and hope to not stir up any judgment.

I know that "judgment" isn't something that I should be worried about, and honestly I think most of any disapproval that I sense probably comes from me. I have always had very high expectations of myself. Those expectations faltered a little in college when I realized the pre-med was not the right path for me and they faltered again when I quit AmeriCorps and attempted to forge my way into the working world. I need to work on my resiliency when it comes to big picture plans, but that's not a feat I can achieve over night. I'm sure I'm not alone in this struggle, although it's going to be a hard one.

On the bright side though, 23 has brought me many o' good times. My friends have been my rock through this tricky transition process of living back at home with my parents and being broke as a joke. I cherish my friends and am so lucky to have them. Being an only child, I really do view my close friends as my sisters - they will be the closest I ever get to having any. Just knowing that my friends are always happy to have me around, happy to be my refuge when I need to escape my parents house, willing to let me vent about rejected applications, is such a blessing and I have no idea how I would survive without them. A year out of college I've learned that my college friends were not my friends out of convenience (as we all lived within a 5 block radius of one another) but they were people that were truly close to my heart. At 23 I've learned that friendships that started when I was 6 years old are still thriving and loving, and that's a beautiful thing.

This time next year (according to my extended life plan) I'll know what law school I'll be attending. That's my expected trajectory for 24, but hey if 23 has taught me anything, I have to accept that that may change. And I guess that's okay.

I've got a lot of things I want to write about soon, because I've been witnessing and experiencing some questionable and eye-opening things. So I can't wait to write it all down. Stay tuned. <--- I said that as if a lot of people are reading this, because maybe if I pretend like a lot of people are reading this then they will? Haha, it doesn't even matter, I'm thankful if even one person decides to read any of my posts. So thank you for the person (or people) that made it this far down the page!

Practical Dream Job vs. DREAM DREAM Job

I'm not sure if it's just me, but when I think about my future, I see three routes. The first is my practical dream job, which is to become a lawyer, specifically practicing health law. The second option would be to own my own magazine - I have a very specific audience I would like to reach with this magazine which I will not disclose here in case I decide to go for it one day. This is my DREAM DREAM job. The third scenario would occur if world peace were achieved and everyone loved each other and there were rainbows every day and each child had puppy to play with. This job, if you can even call it that, is the job of being a princess. I'm not kidding. If someone told me my father was actually a prince and I had to go back to his homeland to rule as princess, a la Princess Diaries, there would be no movie. I would be on a plane in the first five minutes.

None of my dream jobs are easily achievable. My lawyer dream is going to take an incomprehensible amount of hard work and dedication, coupled with an equally unbelievable amount of student loans. My parents so graciously helped me pay for undergraduate school and after that I am on my own. Further schooling is my decision and will be my debt to pay. I'm really not looking forward to that. I often fantasize about my life as a future lawyer, being one small player who can hopefully create big changes. I think that the future of our country in terms of its health and well-being depends greatly upon policies and legislation put forth concerning health care. Learning about health disparities in Baltimore City also propelled a desire to be in a position to effect policies that compromise the health of minorities and those with low socioeconomic statuses. The best way I could see myself effecting change in this way is to achieve a dual degree (J.D./M.P.H.), so that is my current goal.

But in the back of my mind, despite knowing that my lawyer dream is a practical one that could yield positive and effective results for myself and others, I can't help but think about my more creative side. Though I have no experience writing for any published media like a school paper, writing is one of my strongest passions. I love writing short stories, and hope to write a novel one day. I've just discovered the grandeur of blogging and I'm glad I did. So my dream of owning my own magazine stems from a place of mingled entities. I think that high self esteem is one of the most important tools a young girl or young woman can equip herself with. Self esteem is important for everyone, but young girls and women who are discovering their changing bodies, discovery sexuality, discovering boys, discovering self-consciousness - their self-esteem is constantly at a tipping point. I think that young women glean a lot from magazines. They are an accessible gateway to make up and fashion, celebrities and trends. As much as these things may not technically rule the world, everyone can accept that your average 14 year old girl will be entranced by them. I think each and every little girl deserves the right to look in a magazine and see a beautiful woman who looks like her, to reinforce the fact that she, herself, is beautiful.

Now obviously there would be more to my magazine than that, but I won't delve into all of that here. Alas, this is one of dreams, combining my love of fashion, celebrities who earn the right to be loved and inspirational, writing, and all things aesthetically pleasing. But this is not the practical route. There is no security blanket, nothing to tell me if this could be a sure bet. I would love to say it's not about money but it partially is. I want to be able to take care of my family the way they have taken care of me and beyond. My parents are still paying off my college loans and will be for a while, is it worth it to take the gamble on a career path that I'm not sure will produce the results I want? Maybe this magazine (or online magazine) could be something I begin after I've accomplished all I want from the legal field, but by then it might be too late.

I'm thinking a lot about this now as I bravely continue my job search. I have started applying to positions that I am genuinely interested in, not just jobs that will be a stepping stone towards my practical dream job. Part of me is nervous that if I get my foot in the door with a company more along the lines of my DREAM DREAM job then that's the path I'll take, leaving all my law school research and LSAT studying behind. Is that such a bad thing? It could be totally worth it. I have to keep in my mind that I'm 22, well 23 next month, but that's still young. There's so much of the world that I haven't experienced, and now is the time, if any, to go soak it all in. For now, I'm going to allow myself to apply for these jobs that sound "fun" and see what happens. I don't want to limit myself, and miss my big break, or my golden opportunity, or my dream job that could come from a dream that I didn't even know I had.