Final Blog

Overall, I enjoyed blogging. Usually when professors want a blog, they assign you a subject and have strict guidelines about what they want you to write. It’s not personal or creative. Nothing about it says “you” except maybe the fact that you wrote it. It’s more so an online document. This blog gave me the chance to think internally, deeply, about things I had never thought about before. It also gave me the chance to express my opinion on a few things I had never talked about. In this way, I did feel the “Iggy filter”. In terms of faith, I think I’m right in the middle. I’m sure of a few things but I need to find time and mental space to explore all of my beliefs at their very essence and core. Maybe a retreat! (hahaha)

The hardest blog to answer in my opinion was “Indulgences”. I try not to think about my weaknesses. I almost kind of keep them at bay because I want to bring out the best in me and not be so negative. That resulted in me just typing, going on a rant because it was probably the best way to get it out. I couldn’t focus on what I was saying. I understand but I felt that this particular weakness would be hard to convey to an audience.

 The easiest blog is definitely “Why This Guy Hates the Church, Not Religion, And Loves Jesus”. I love debate/ picking apart people’s arguments.

 As much as I like the blogs, I don’t know if my thoughts could be so easily provoked on their own. This is probably why I could never keep a consistent journal/diary when I was younger. It was fun while it lasted and gave me a nice break from some of my other work to focus on me.

At 40

At 40, I plan to wake up early before work. I’m still not a morning person but I get up anyway because it’s probably one of the only times I have to myself to think, let alone to work out. I go running and the runner’s high I’m on afterwards makes me wonder why I hated to run so much when I was younger.

 I shower and then wake up my husband and my two teenage daughters if they still aren’t up for school. I let out the dogs and fix breakfast. I’m proud because I have my overall dream. Everything’s ok. I have the relationships, the things I created that I love and love me back.

 I return to my room to get dressed. I stop in the mirror and give myself the once over. Not bad. In better shape than most moms I know. I miss my 20-year-old body but hey, I’m not 20 now am I? I put on my business suit and leave for the PR agency I’ve worked at for the last 10 years. I’ve been really excited about meeting the new clients. It never gets old.

 After a long day at work, I return home. Thankfully, dinner is already cooked. Mmmmm chicken parmesan. I see I have a message from Tanya, my sorority sister. I have to call her and give her the ”tea” of my life. And Ken, my best friend. Jeez, it feels like I never have enough time to just catch up with any one any more. I think it’s time for another trip to New Orleans. Being in Chicago makes me feel so detached sometimes.

 I walk upstairs and hear the girls laughing, one at the television show, the other on the phone with a friend. I think about when I was their age, thirteen/ fourteenish. And then I wonder if they’ve been telling me everything. I know I didn’t with my parents. Do they feel comfortable telling me? I’d rather hear about their woes than learn of their mistakes from someone else.

 I go into my office with a cup of tea and to read before I go to bed. I’ve really gotten into this book club thing. Ooh! And game night’s on Friday! Maybe I can unplug my children and get them to go and actually be in the presence of human and not shiny screens.

My Jesuit Education

My education has proven to be Jesuit mainly through the value of appreciating things great and small. When you get to college, you’re a little bit less of a kid. You begin to think and see social issues and take a stance. You begin to make commitments and decisions that affect your whole life, whether you know it at the moment or not. This includes your career. At Loyola, I’ve thought about what I could do and enjoy for the rest of my life and how it would make a difference.

I chose Mass Communication with a sequence in Public Relations and a minor in English. Originally, my track was Journalism. I liked to write, but since I can’t always turn my creative thinking on and off I decided to write about facts. I took Beginning Reporting and while I always seemed to come out with good stories I didn’t like the hassle and stress of getting the stories. I would have lost my mind by 30 years old. But I still liked the idea of writing and media input. I decided to try public relations.

Although switching concentrations is as easy as just saying so and scribbling your choice down on a piece of paper, it’s a big decision. You transfer from potentially working with a periodical to working for a client or agency. You make the transition from investigation to binding the public to the information you have to offer.

And it’s more than just covering for the person you represent when they goof off. You must look at yourself and know what you and your client stand for. You must take steps to ensure that you properly relay the message of the person you represent. You are keeping in mind the interest of an intricate entity besides yourself. It may be “just a career” of jargon and persuasion to some but the smallest details make the biggest deals. This is my Jesuit education.

Spiritual Exercises

Week 1: Self Evaluation, Acceptance of God's love
I think this week is a reminder that you are God's child and you have the freedom to accept his love. It's innocent and like the child, no matter how bad it gets, your father, God, will still love you.

Week 2: Call of the King
Deciding who you would follow in life. You always pick someone who is greater than you to follow. It is cyclical because soon you become great and people follow you. You can learn from the person you follow as well as yourself. It leads to decisions that make a bigger, better person.

Week 3: Week of the Cross
The court is a room of decision making. It balances the scales life and is the room of consequence for tough decisions to be made in life, whether it be by the judge or the criminal. In life we are the judge and the criminal.

Week 4
Hope of God
I believe the last week of the exercises is realizing that the best is yet to come. The future gives the opportunity to love, share, and enjoy.

Open My Heart

A song that symbolizes Ignatian themes is Open My Heart by Yolanda Adams. It is a gospel song that presents a person who has an important decision to make but doesn’t t know what to do. Therefore, she turns to God. She opens her heart to Him, to God’s will. For these reasons, the song reminds me of the presuppositions and Rules of Discernment.

First off, she has made time for reflection despite the pressures of her situation. She looks for a good spirit to guide her. This covers the first two presuppositions of making time for reflection and understanding the spirit that is leading you.

The lyrics state:
Alone in a room
It's just me and you
I feel so lost
Cause I don't know what to do
Now what if choose the wrong thing to do
I'm so afraid, afraid of disappointing you
So I need to talk to you
And ask you for your guidance
Especially today
When my world seems cloudy
Guide me until I'm sure
I open up my heart

Not only has she made this time, but she also wants to make the decision between just her and God. She opens up her heart, creating room for guidance and releasing her own emotions so she won’t get caught up in them (presups 4 & 5)

Along the lines of the Rules of Discernment, she has followed Rule 1, clearing her head and making time for prayer. Rule 2 is iffy but with the results of the song I trust that she has gathered good information and weighed her options. Nevertheless, the follows her heart and takes the direction in which God leads her, following Rule 3.

Later on the lyrics state:
So show me how
To do things your way
Don't let me make the same mistakes
Over and over again
Your will be done
And I'll be the one
To make sure the it's carried out
And in me, I don't want any doubt
That's why

I need to talk to you
And ask you for your guidance
Especially today
When my life is a little bit cloudy
Guide me until I'm sure
I open up my heart


These lyrics cover Rules 4 & 5, she tells God (generally) that she will do his will and trust him. She will not doubt herself or Him. She has trusted and had faith God and relied on his overall friendship.

Feel free to listen here.

Indulgence

I’ve never been monetarily rich. But I have always lived comfortably. I don’t think I’ve ever been to the point where I’ve seen my parents openly struggle to pay bills or buy the things they want.

I don’t necessarily plan to be rich either. Sometimes I see expensive designer items like purses and shoes and I think, “When I get older, I’m going to have something like that.” But I don’t know where life will take me or how much money I will make. I just know that I don’t want to struggle. I want to live comfortably.

I think I know the value of hard work. I know that there are rewards that come with work, including and not including money. It’s normal that after putting in a long day’s work you want to treat yourself. But sometimes I’m indulgent. I see that I’ve saved up a little and I want to spend it all. I forget that my money has plans. I forget that there are rainy days and I talk myself up to want to spend thinking, “Why not? You do so much more than other people.” And I have no idea who these other people are. I just want to spend and I feel like I have no control.

And then the rainy day comes.

Rainy day = some unknown responsibility or cost that just pops up. I may look my indulgence and not necessarily regret it because it brings me joy but I wish I had thought sooner. I feel throwed off when I struggle: financially, academically, emotionally, everything. I have to work the keep my concentration and my focus on my near future ambitions. Those ambitions may change over time but I have to learn to stop being so short-sighted.

For these reasons, my weaknesses are wealth and success.

My Gift

I believe that I have been given the gift of expression. With education, I believe that this gift has flourished. Honestly, I never noticed I had this gift until people began to tell me.

I was sitting in my ninth’s grade English class. Our “Do-Now” was to define revenge and also give our opinion on whether it is just. In giving my opinion on revenge, I found that there are so many exceptions and situations. There couldn’t be just one quick answer. So I didn’t write a quick answer. I read my answer aloud to the class. When our papers were returned with grades, I remember the teacher had written “Good! Very articulate.” Despite my abilities, I learned what
the word articulate meant that day.

There’s nothing like an educator to push you.

In eleventh grade, there was an MLK Poetry contest. It was open to high school students and the winner got a gift card to Borders along with some other things. Rediscovering my love for reading at the moment, I wanted that free gift card. I decided to enter. Our poems had to relate to how history, especially MLK’s time, was uplifting and capture the struggles of people through time.
I wrote “Greatness”

I’m a descendant of Greatness.
I’ve done nothing wrong.
So why must I fall?
Why can’t I soar? Is the sky not the limit?
Store my dreams in a basket and hope for deliverance.

I get to know the sweet side of royalty.
Smiling faces fooled glimmering eyes.
I burned the wrong bridges and lost the trustworthy.

Corruption, injustice.
The cursing, the fussing.
The law is on my side but I feel so alone.
Double agents cross me blindly as I’m stripped of my thrown.
My right hand man was on the inside and tore out what was left of me, courage and pride.
But is my hope everlasting?

My head is up.
But my spirits are low.
So I’ll go back to my roots and feel the earth through my toes.

Nothing to lose.
I have no more excuses.
I’ve grown to know my past, my history
And forgiven my abusers.

I am the face of up and coming opportunity.
I am greatness.

When I feel strongly about something, I write about it. When I know, I can share. I can express.

Why This Guy Hates the Church, Not Religion, And Loves Jesus

First off, I think this poem is morbidly mis-titled. I believe the title should be not “Why I Hate Religion, But Love Jesus” but “Why I hate the Church, But Love Jesus”. Why? Because the poet believes in the religion and is religious and criticizes what goes on inside the church, especially the habits of its members. Quite simply, it's your beliefs and how you implement them within your behaviors. In learning religion, he learns Jesus and his doings and has improved himself, which I believe you are supposed to do.

Secondly, his criticism of the Republican Party is out of place. He does not elaborate “why Republican doesn’t mean Christian”. If someone completely out-of-touch with government heard this, they have a preconceived notion before they do research. Luckily, I know that Republicans are currently and overwhelmingly pro-life and anti-homosexual, or better yet, against gay marriage. (Notice I did not say homophobic, but that’s another topic for another time….. Maybe? Yes?) They often defend their beliefs with Bible scriptures but people can defend almost anything with religion. And yes, though they believe these things are wrong and criticize them, Republicans are far from perfect. (In this sense, the poet and I may agree.)

3) “I mean if religion is so great, why has it started so many wars?” One word: intolerance. And religion doesn’t make people intolerant. Lack of patience and close-mindedness makes you intolerant.

4) “Why does it build huge churches, but fails to feed the poor?” Good point. I get tired of seeing preachers, pastors, etc. driving cars that would cover my year’s tuition but will not give dime nor dollar to the United Negro College Fund (UNCF).

5) “See the problem with religion, is it never gets to the core
It's just behavior modification, like a long list of chores”
While religion is “behavior modification”, it serves a higher purpose. It aims to change or improve a set of behaviors in hopes that you will learn something. Sometimes “Fake it ‘til you make it” works. But you must fool yourself. No, I don’t believe in fooling yourself into thinking you’re perfect. I’d say that religion is less of wrapping a mummy and moreso wrapping a leg (or a body) in a cast. It heals. It improves in nature.
Participating in religion should be like dressing for success. You must dress like you you belong to something better and you should act accordingly while learning. While learning, help other along the way. Sometimes that involves some constructive criticism: of self and others.

6) “But now that I know Jesus, I boast in my weakness” He may have learned but the voice in which his poem is delivered sounds so judgmental whether he says he isn’t or not.

7) “But if Jesus came to your church would they actually let him in
See remember he was called a glutton, and a drunkard by religious men” I believe the church would let him in if he expressed the desire to change. The glutton or drunkard must be called, (ya know, like Jesus said he was by God, not that he was a drunk or anything) and not forced into church like the self-righteous men are. I find that the self-righteous are forced into church and then think they’re better simply for their attendance. All those who offer help aren’t perfect but that doesn’t make them wrong for offering help.

8) Religion is a “manmade invention”. Yes, but it’s a progression on mankind’s behalf. Someone had to see the light! And that person may not have necessarily been or be self-righteous. It’s the work of God.

9) “Religion says “slave”, Jesus says “son”’. But we are God’s children and parents teach children to WORK. You are god’s vessel to be worked with and through.
Aren’t we “made in His image?” Shouldn’t we act like it too?

10) “Not based in merits but Jesus’ obedience alone.” We his children and we must obey.
I know this is probably way over 300 words…. I just had to get it all out.

My Besties

I was looking for somewhere to fit in. I was in 7th grade a Thurgood Marshall Middle School. After homeroom, there was Literacy class, a useless part of my schedule that everyone had to take. It was mandated by the new superintendent to get students to read on their grade level. But I was beyond my grade level and there was a class for us too. "Post-High School", or PHS, they called it. I was in Honors classes and so were a lot of people from my homeroom and all the other Honors classes.

First, I met Kendalisia. I call her Ken for short. We had to form reading groups and Ken was the only other girl in my group. The books our group read were boring so we found time to talk. Well, I found time to talk. I asked Kendalisia just about any question I could ask: her favorite foods, television shows, her love life (for a 12 year old, ha!). To this day, when we speak of how our friendship started, Ken says, ”You were so friendly. And you just talked and talked and talked my head off to the point where I just couldn’t be mean to you.” I’m glad I never stopped talking. I’m glad we never stopped talking.

Next, I met Quaashie. She was in my homeroom too. We’d chatted a few times in passing and I found her interesting. One thing I definitely found cool about Quaashie was that she was a cheerleader. But she wasn’t mean or snooty like the ones portrayed on television. After one of our afterschool dances, we traded pictures we took with our telephone numbers scribbled on the back. We began talking and I felt us growing closer.

Soon, I began to wonder “Who is my best friend? Ken or Quaashie?” Upon my contemplation one day, I was walking to lunch and I saw them walking, chatting and laughing together. I smiled and walked up to them, realizing that I didn’t have to have just one.

Service

"Seek to serve." -Wendell Pierce, Loyola University New Orleans 2011 Commencement Exercise

I never really “sought to serve”. Service kind of found me.

My mother was always what I would consider to be an “involved parent.” From elementary school, she always came to open house, report card conferences, and the PTA meetings at school. She started by becoming treasurer of PTA and soon after, she became the president. I saw my mom at my school a lot. Some of my classmates thought she worked at my school. It wasn’t her job but she made it an obligation. She wanted to make sure other people’s children were taken care of as well as her own.

Eventually she began to put me to work. I’d wake up with her on the mornings of the school health fair or the annual spring fair and help out. Along with the other volunteers, I’d take out all the prizes, sweets and help prepare some of the hot food. And it felt good. I knew I was a part in bringing together the end result. I could get nachos from the food stand knowing I’d helped pour the cheese into the crock pot. I could win suckers from the sucker pull knowing I’d marked them with the dots and stuck them into the Styrofoam board.

I just liked getting things done. I could appreciate their impact. There’s no doubt my mother’s dedication to service has impacted my work ethic. I’ve been active in many service organizations in my career as a student. I’ve tutored kids and watched their grades improve, fed the hungry with Interact Club, given toys to tots with student council and by far the organization I am proudest of is my sorority, Alpha Kappa Alpha. The last five words of our purpose says it all: “service to all mankind”.

The Principles of the Principal

It was a Tuesday morning and I was in a meeting for student council at Warren Easton Senior High. My fellow council members and I sat in the library waiting. The president was covering the normal order of business but that’s not what I was waiting for. I was waiting for the principal. Today was the day I had been waiting for.

Why that day? Because the principal, Alexina Medley, had agreed to attend the meeting and answer any questions brought to her by the student council. Some students began with simple questions about dances and student activities. She seems fine with answering those. Next, I stood up. The council’s advisor looked at me, knowing what was coming.

“Is it possible to raise the retention average for students to attend the school?”

“No.”

“Why not? With a charter, aren’t we a self-governing school? Why can’t we have stricter requirements?”

The council seemed to be humming approval with someone even adding in the fact that the school was “letting anybody in.”

Mrs. Medley then went on to question me about what I thought was wrong. I pointed out that the poor conduct amongst students that had low grades was becoming the first impression of people who visited the school.

From there, she seemed angry.
Next, she snapped, “Well what are you doing to fix it? You have good grades. Why can’t you tutor?”

“I do tutor students. But I’m still a student and I’m only one person and only one other teacher at this school offers tutoring. We need to do something. The school retention average is a 1.75. That’s a D average and barely passing. What about a 2.0? That’s a C.”

“No.”

“Why? Can’t we expect average from our students?”

She then went on with a jargon-filled speech about state requirements. The fact that it took her so long to simply tell me why was suspicious to me. At this point the answer she gave just seemed like an excuse and I wanted more. I tried to keep questioning but the meeting time was running over.

As simple as this may seem, I felt like I challenged her way of thinking that day. And it’s probably one of the most “outrageous” or crazy, things I have ever done.

Home is where the heart is.

As a college student, I think a lot about the future. I see the world I live in today and wonder how it shapes tomorrow. I evaluate my relationship with friends, family, and colleagues. I think about where I’ll be in five or ten years. I know I want the “American Dream”. I want to make a family of my own with a husband, kids, a nice house and a dog (or three). I want freedom with opportunity of success and prosperity. Some of these things are material and worldly but I’m fine with that. What I do worry about is where it will all take place.

New Orleans is has been my home since I was born. It’s a great city and I love it. I love it when people come to New Orleans and gush about “the food and the culture and oh! The rich history!” I can appreciate it but I know that’s not the only side of New Orleans.

I know it’s a dangerous place; one of the most dangerous places in the country. It probably beats out some major cities internationally. I’ve watched the news as a child and seen New Orleans repeatedly take the title of “murder capitol.” It’s shameful and startling.

I also know its schools aren’t the best. People are always talking about how corrupt the public school system is and how the children can’t get a valuable education because all people want to do is stuff their pockets. I’ve seen teachers be torn between leaving the students they love and having a better job. Finally, I’ve been places where people assume I’m stupid once I tell them what city I’m from.

I also worry about finding a job. The economy isn’t good right now. I’ve watched family members struggle to find work. It’s also discouraging when I see friends and family leave the city once they’ve decided that New Orleans has “no opportunity”.

I’m worried. With my plans, I think: Do I want to go through this here? Am I putting my life in danger for the city I love? Is this how I want to raise my children? Will it get better?