
- This damsel was in distress!
One of the things I like most about myself is that I defy most stereotypes. I like making up my own rules, defying the odds, and challenging the status quo. My life is an intricate balance between being the girl from the ‘hood and the CEO in the boardroom. On a good day, you’ll see both. On a crazy day, like today, you’ll see… A Girl! But not a girl in the Black girls rock, I am woman hear me roar kind a way. But, a girl in the someone come and save me because I don’t know what the hell I am doing kind of way. Yes, ladies and gents, today I was a damsel in distress…smh!
It all started this morning after we loaded the car with the many bags of crap I carry with me. You know, the pile of paperwork I swore I would get to today, that I hadn’t gotten to yesterday, last week, or last month. I start the car as usual and nothing happens. I try again, and again, and again, and again. I get nothing but a measly little singular click every time. What’s going on here? Is it the batter? I hope it’s the battery? Is it something else? Oh God, please don’t let it be something else! How much is this going to cost me? How much is this going to f—-, I mean, jack up my day!?!?
I call AAA. (Side note: do you read AAA as Triple A or as A. A. A.? Just curious.) An older gentleman arrives and begins to tinker with the battery. After lots more tinkering and doing things like shaking the car, backing it up in neutral, and a failed attempt at jumping it with what I now know is a booster jumper, he informs me that it is my starter that’s the source of my woes. The starter? A dark cloud slowly rolled over my little condo and stood there clueless. Where the heck am I going to get one of those and how poor will I be afterwards.
After calling my friend’s hubby who recommended Firestone, which sounded too rich for my uniformed blood, I called Sam. Now Sam is my neighbor the go-to guy for helping me figure out all the other stuff that makes me feel especially damselish, like the time when I almost electrocuted myself trying to repair the circuit breaker in my house – don’t ask! O__o He quickly puts a plan into action and calls his people (he has lots of people) at the car shop and arranges for my car to get fixed stat! Meanwhile, the AAA tow truck is on its way and I am getting anxious. If you know me well, then you fully understand how much I get rattled by spur of the moment stuff, and this was no exception.

Not exactly a dunce cap, but you get the point.
Then, it happened. That moment when all logic left my brain and I temporarily morphed into a real life Snooki (because I don’t think Nicole is always Snooki in real life). He asked me 2 questions that, after my struggle to answer, left me feeling well – verklempt (Yiddish for very emotional). How many cylinders is the car? And if that wasn’t bad enough, he followed up with – is that 3.5 or 3.9? The first question wasn’t so hard to figure out. One quick phone call and I discover it has 6 cylinders. Woohoo! But, what’s up with this 3.5/3.9 business? Hold on again, Sam, let me call and ask. He quickly says, no, you don’t need to call, just look at the car, it should be on there? On there where, I ask? On the side. I There I was, walking all around the car, in the back, in the front, on the side looking for these mysterious numbers. Then I think, oh, open the car door on the driver’s side. I always see them put stuff in there – not!
After a few minutes of being on hold, Sam decides it would be quicker for him to just drive over and come see for himself. He pulls up, hops out, lifts up the hood and BINGO, there it was! In broad daylight, as some folks would say. Why in the hell did it never dawn on me to lift up the hood? And who knew that they had labels with useful information in there telling you whether or not you had a V6 3.5 liter engine and other tidbits of information? Who knew? I wanted to channel my inner Rosie (the Riveter), and handle my business, but homegirl was nowhere to be found. So, 4 hours, 3 technicians, and $110 later, it turns out that the first guy was wrong and it was the battery after all.
Here’s what I learned today: 1) I have a car with a V6, 3.5 liter engine, 2) Always have them test the battery with the green machine and give you the little slip of paper that looks like a receipt because that tells you if your battery is shot, and, most importantly, 3) Information about what kind of engine you have is located (insert drum roll) under the hood – duh! It was such a “girl” moment that I had no choice but to surrender to the fact that I didn’t know what the hell I was doing and could have been completely suckered into all kinds of repairs. For all of the things I know, I know that I don’t know cars. Why wasn’t that class part of any of my degree programs? *raises eyebrow*
Please allow me to redeem myself, just a little bit – I can jump a car like nobody’s business. Does that get me off the hook?
Why Every Dream Ain’t Golden
Is it the rainbow or the gold?
Here’s the challenge with being a coach, mentor, advisor, and all-around motivator: you have to contend with the “dream factor.” The dream factor is the (dare I say it) misguided view that you can do and be whatever you want in life if you only believe and work hard for it. How could this view be seen as misguided, especially by someone like myself who strives to encourage people to reach for their dreams? Allow me to explain…
Here’s a question for those who know me: have you ever heard me sing? Most likely, your answer will be no. Why? While I am able to perform the behavior of singing, the produced result – no matter what I tell myself I sound like – is far from Grammy worthy. Hell, it ain’t even YouTube worthy O__o The truth is that no matter how much I believe and no matter how hard I work, I was not born to sing. Short of having vocal cord surgery and a few modifications to my sinus cavity, there is little I can do to change that fact. But in my mind, I am a grand Diva, an R&B Prima Donna, a Soulstress! In spite of this truth, there will surely be people who will tell me to pursue my dream, no matter what anyone else says, no matter how many ears I harm in the process, no matter what! Because dreams are dreams and dreams have no limits.
This is where we have to be careful people. For many of us, the playing field has never been level. Because of that fact, many people have lived their lives unable to fully use their gifts or have been held back from receiving the education, training, and support necessary to fulfill their purpose. Those inequities are shameful and must continue to be challenged. However, we do ourselves a disservice when we fail to examine the intention of the dreams we hold, especially when those dreams are disconnected from ability, skill, and effort.
Because we have collectively bought into the “dream factor” without regard to our individual capabilities, we have handicapped our ability to identify our true purpose. I see it in very real ways: when one of our students goes to college and spends years as a science major when they are easily acing classes in their arts minor. That student should pursue art, that is where their talent is. What about the student who spends his high school career focusing on basketball, because he is 6’7″ and is devastated because he didn’t get into a D1 school and decides not to go to a four-year yet, because he won’t be “seen” by recruiters? It turns out that he is an excellent cook and excelled in his HS culinary classes. He should study Culinary Arts, channel his inner Chef, and be happy!
This is not to say that dreams should not be pursued. Rather, they should be based on passion, purpose, and talent. When dreams are dreamt based on money, power, and fame, they are doomed to be unfulfilled and unfulfilling. It is not realistic or acceptable for us to blindly encourage people to pursue a dream just because they have one, or because of the gold at the end of the rainbow. I was told I could become a great artist when I was a child, because I was that good. Turns out, I wasn’t good at all, but I am happy that I was encouraged. I am even happier that I didn’t get stuck in a dream that ultimately did not match my true purpose.
Look, I always thought I was going to go to Medical School and become a Psychiatrist. I had a strong high school record and was admitted into academically competitive schools and selected the one that gave me the best financial aid package. After fumbling through my science classes during my Freshman year, I quickly realized that my natural ability was no longer sufficient and my passion for Psychiatry was not strong enough for me to put in the time and the effort to get through with the grades necessary for me to (substantiate to myself) to move forward. So, massaged my ego, took inventory, and had a very real and honest look at whether or not my “dream” was the right dream for me, or if I was doing the Medical School thing because that’s what anomalies like me were supposed to do to get out of the ‘hood. It turned out to be the latter.
So here, I am, all these years later with many dreams fulfilled, several dreams changed, some dreams long gone, and an abundance of dreams to go. Now my dreams are in alignment with my purpose, my passion, and my talent. I thank God for that and I am sure there are quite a few folks out there who know that I ended up doing the work that was meant for me to do. Doesn’t mean that I still don’t want to sing, that don’t enjoy drawing, or that I would not have made a great Psychiatrist. It simply means that I discovered the importance of keeping it real with myself without destroying my ability to dream. One of the best decisions I ever made was to drop O-Chem from my class schedule. The second best? Not to have surgery on my vocal cords
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