What's important to me?

This was the question posed to me by a therapist some time ago, and it's a question that I've certainly considered on more than one occasion. And yet a definitive answer still eludes me. What is important to me? There is no easy answer to a question like that.

During the middle of the session nothing immediately came to mind. Then, after a moment of thought, things that I considered important began to surface. Chief among those thoughts, or really, what sprang to mind first, were thoughts of my family and friends. Followed by my interests in writing, reading, acting, and socializing. Soon more thoughts came to mind as to what was important to me.

Philosophy, Psychology, Ideology, History, Mythology, Sociology, etc. These were all areas of study that I found fascinating. And they were important to me because I was able to engross myself in their knowledge so deeply, and from that knowledge, I was able to carve out an identity for myself from everything I had learned. And in my mind, having a definitive identity of oneself is pretty important.

Soon after I acknowledged these fields of study that interested me, I began to think of mere words that resonated with me or had some significance to them: Friendship, Comradery, Fraternity, Family, Love, Honor, Loyalty, Respect, Dignity, Duty, Sacrifice, Legacy.

Intelligence, Modesty, Humility, Honesty, Authenticity, Sincerity.

Justice, Logic, Reason, Rationality.

Irrational, Absurd, Anger, Hate, Disdain.

Gratitude, Insight, Intuition, Demonstration.

The Tangible, the Intangible, the Ethereal, the Spiritual, and the Ramifications of Everything In Between.

Life and Death.

Words. Concepts. Feelings.

The real and the abstract intertwining. That is what is important to me. That, and finding the balance to walk the line between the two.

Teach For America Letter of Intent

“Every day, at every turn, I see something, something that stares me straight in the eye, that intimidates me, and belittles me to the point where I feel too inadequate to approach it. It’s nothing new, and other’s acceptance of it shakes my idea that it doesn’t belong. I can’t stop thinking about it as I wait for someone to pull around the bandwagon so I can jump on it. I put my hands in my pocket while I pass the time. My fingers jingle the keys to the bandwagon.”

I wrote the above passage when I decided to film a solo documentary in Peru. Being a young woman in a foreign place did not empower me to spread awareness about child labor, but being a human did. I discovered the power I possess to make a difference in a place where change is unwelcome. Walking alone through the poorest parts of Lima, through streets that weren’t streets, dark paths in the sand covered in filth and occupied by disease-stricken dogs, was the most enlightened yet unsettled I have ever felt.

            Socioeconomic injustice isn’t confined to the developing world. As I drive through impoverished parts of Tuscaloosa, in route to my comfortable sorority home, a new light has been cast for me – injustice has taken shelter in the education system in my own backyard. Teach For America’s mission is not one I can allow myself to watch unfold and sit idly by; I have to be a part of it. As Vice President of my sorority, I helped initiate the Champions Are Readers program for third graders at Holt Elementary in Tuscaloosa. Working with these students taught me how a small amount of attention develops a crucial difference. Today’s children will soon be members of our society. We can shape the kind of members they will become through effective education.

While improving test scores is a reasonable short-term goal, my hopeful accomplishment is something longer lasting. I believe in increasing my students’ self-awareness by showing them that they are intelligent, competent, and headed towards success. My goal is to liberate students from the conceptions created and sustained by the education system’s repetitive cycle. My students will know the doors the world holds open for them, as I show them how to use their talents to break any glass ceiling they’ve been living under. When my students have the confidence necessary to compete against others who come from the “right side of the tracks,” I will consider that a victory. Success begins with raised confidence which results in raised test scores.

Teach For America is not a two-year commitment, it is a life-long attitude. Every day, at every turn, I see solvable problems. Throughout my life I will confront them, hopefully first through Teach For America, and ultimately with my camera in hand.  My allegiance to Teach For America’s mission won’t end after two years but instead will be internalized as fuel for my next project, and each one that follows.

My Creative Process

A drawing I did. A visual representation of my creative process when writing songs.

Rooster's Blues House opens on the strip.

NOH8 Campaign and the HRC visit Tuscaloosa!

My Perú.

At first, when I was thinking about studying abroad, Peru wasn’t even on my radar—I had this impression that Peru just another small country in the middle of South America. That’s what surprised me the most when I got there—not only is Peru a huge country, but the landscape, people and culture is so diverse. Every different department of peru has its own special food, music and culture—from the beautiful andes mountains, to the breathtaking coast to the historical Macchu Picchu to the exotic Amazon jungle—even 2 months wasn’t long enough to see all the wonders peru has to offer.

There is also never a dull moment in Lima, where I spent most of my time. The night life is amazing, there are so many beautiful places to see and fun clubs and restaurants—and downtown historical lima is so beautiful and there are so many stories behind all the cool architecture

The best part, about Peru however are the people who live there—los peruanos. There’s nothing better than sitting down with a group of people who have adopted you into their own family and sharing a great meal of anticuchos on the grill, papas rellenas, Peru’s famous Ceviche, or my favorite—Aji de Gallina. We could sit around for hours talking and laughing—the people of Peru are so warm, inviting, and easy to talk to—even when spanish isn’t your first language.

I’ve been back in the states for months now, and every so often I’ll be spending time with friends, when all of a sudden something takes me back---man it makes me miss peru—In fact, I fell so much in love with Peru, that I wouldn’t be surprised if one day I decide to go back—and stay for good.

The Starbucks People.

The air inside Starbucks was cool and refreshing in comparison to the unseasonal heat that characterized this Alabama Sunday. A smattering of people sitting inside, first occupying the more comfortable sofas that were available as well as less comfortable but perhaps more practical tables organized throughout, were far more in number than the amount of available parking outside would suggest. Few enough people that there was still plenty of seating to choose from, but enough that finding an area where sitting would not infringe on other’s bubbles of space had become difficult. The first meaningful interaction I observed demonstrates the former sentiment.
In the coveted corner, where the entirety of this Starbuck’s sofa collection was located, sat three adult men and one woman, around a coffee table where half empty cups had been placed, engaging in official sounding, most likely work related conversation. One of the men was partially blocked from my view by a large display of Tervis Tumblers, mugs and other Starbucks paraphernalia that had strategically been placed in the middle of the store. The next time I looked up, I found that my view had even more been blocked by a guy who, seeming to have come from nowhere, sat down at a table directly in the middle of the store. His sudden appearance, followed by a dialogue of apologies and questions—“Did our noise scare you off?” “You were here first; are you sure…?” lead me to realize that he was indeed the same man that had been obscured earlier from my view, and that really there were only three members the cluster of colleagues that occupied the envied sofas. The man, now more easily referred to as guy, because in clear view looked much more similar in age to me than any of the others in the sofa discussion, pulled out his computer and with headphones in his ears began to smile, almost smirk, as if he knew something the rest of the world around him just didn’t get.
With his large glass of ice water and computer situated now on the table in front of him, he began to spread cream cheese on a bagel, all the while staring at his computer with the same, uninterrupted grin. A somewhat distracting burst of laughter came forth from that same corner of businessmen, but did nothing to break the smile of the so concentrated guy, who now had a smudge of cream cheese on the corner of his mouth. After several minutes of the same, the young man suddenly stood up, put his computer away in its protective case, sat down again, comfortably resting one leg up on the chair next to him, and began to stare out the window. With no screen or anything protecting his gaze from mine, there was a slight tension that began to fill the room—perhaps because he suspected he was being watched, or even more so because he was afraid someone else knew that he himself was doing some watching. Whichever the reason why, in only a few short minutes he had pulled his computer out a second time. At one point in all of this, he stood up and walked away, most likely to go to the bathroom, and on his way exchanged friendly words with the barista that suggested previous familiarity between the two. To my suspicion, only a couple more minutes after his return from the restroom, the young guy walked toward the door, calling behind him, “I’m headed out, but don’t worry I’ll probably be back later.” The barista looked forward to his return.
I however, did not stay long enough to verify if the young man proved true to his word.