NOW is the Time

"The richest place in the world," he said, "is the graveyard." As a teenager, I was captivated by this man and his message.  His words attached to something deep inside of me, catapulting me to where I am today.  Dr. Myles Munroe's central message of the importance of fulfilling your God-given purpose planted seeds not just in me, but in millions around the globe.  

I aspire to be like him:  a woman who knows her purpose, pursues it, and helps others do the same.  And I aspire to leave this earth the same way that he did:  on my way to do what I was created to do.

Rest in His Presence, Dr. Munroe, knowing that you fulfilled your God-given purpose.

Dealing with Disappointment

Several blog posts ago, I wrote about securing a TV job, but being fearful that it would fall through, leaving me disappointed.  Well, the job did fall through; the network pulled out just three weeks before I was supposed to leave the country.  I was disappointed, (and I cried once), but I kept it pushin' cause life goes on, right?  Three days later I learned that I had booked another TV job--this one a pilot for a national cable talk show.  I was elated... until three days before we were scheduled to shoot, when I learned that that network had pulled out as well.  Once again I was disppointed, only this time I cried for a week and a half.

As I grieved the second loss, I began to grieve the first loss more, plus I began to grieve other losses that I had experienced through my life recently, particularly in my romantic life.   (Yeah, it kinda all snowballed.)  I realized, while writing on the tear-stained pages of my journal, that my losses weren't the biggest ones that someone could endure.  I wasn't facing the loss of a home, or my health, or a loved one.  But still, there was a deep sense of loss and sadness. 

So I allowed myself to feel the loss, and I decided to be really honest with God.  I told Him how disappointed I was, and asked Him to comfort me and infuse me with hope that believes that through it all He is good and will continue to be good to me, no matter what losses I endure.

2011 Is Almost Over!

Can you believe it? 2012 is fast approaching, and next year we will all be another year older.

Are you prepared for the New Year?  Did you accomplish what you wanted to this year? Did you lose that weight? Save more money?  Get rid of that bad habit?

If you haven't, it's not too late...

I will spend the remaining two months of 2011 playing Set-4-Life, a game designed to help people accomplish their goals. The game, created and led by my friend, George B. Thompson, author and financial advisor, teaches participants how to accomplish their goals using a four method system: 1) Desire, 2) Focus, 3) Consistency, and 4) Accountability.

I played the game in 2009, and it changed how I think and how I operate.  This year I’m playing again, but I’m coaching participants as well.  I'm more excited for the last two months of 2011 than I was for the last ten months!

There are 68 more days left in 2011.  What have you set yourself to do?  If you need some help, play Set-4-Life.  The game started today, but it’s not too late.

"Man born of woman is of few days and full of trouble.  He springs up like a flower and withers away; like a fleeting shadow, he does not endure." -Job 14:1-2

Lifelong Learners

Tonight, I was faced with a question:  What do you do when it feels like you're trying to put out a raging fire, but you all you have is a squirt gun?

That's how I felt tonight while tutoring two siblings. They are years behind and falling further and further behind each day.  I tutor them only a few hours a month, but they need much more than that, and more help than I can offer them.  I am not one to quit, but I question my effectiveness.  Last month, a local elementary principal told me, "If a kid doesn't know how to read by the 4th grade, he/she is almost guaranteed to drop out." My students are in 4th and 5th grade, and they struggle with reading and comprehension.

I know that I can't rid our nation of its high drop out rates. I pray that I can, however, help two bright kids beat the odds and love to learn.

The Makings of a Champion

I am fascinated by people who excel above others-- those who are extraordinary, the very best of the best.  I wonder what these people do to stand-out, what their secrets are.  After watching game 6 of the NBA Finals between the Dallas Mavericks and the Miami Heat, I know that there is no secret. It's all very clear.


What does it take to become a champion?


1.  You must practice more intensely than anyone else. (Like Dirk making himself shoot something like 50 consecutive free throw shots before ending practice.)


2.  You must persevere, always.  (Like attempting 27 shots in a game when you started out 1 for 12, to end up with 21 points.)


3.  You can't ever lose site of your goal (What about keeping a picture of the championship trophy in your locker?  Or in the case of Jason Terry, tattooed on your arm?)


4.  Heart trumps talent any day.  (Miami wanted it.  The Mavs wanted it more.  The rest is NBA history.) 


Congratulations, Dallas!  You will go down in the basketball annals as true Champions!

Choices, Choices!

It's been said that we are the sum total of our choices.

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about choice, and how our desires fuel it. I've asked myself, "What do I wanna do with my life, really? Has it deviated from what I've wanted for years, if only slightly, or is it the same? How does starting a family (getting married and having a baby) fit into what I want career-wise? Does having one automatically rule out the other, or is it possible to do them both with grace, style, and most importantly—sanity? How have other goal-oriented women answered these questions?"

While the answers are a bit opaque presently, I do know that the choices that I make now will affect what happens in the future.

Choice is an interesting concept. Sometimes it has small consequences: The caramel macchiato that you order at Starbucks may not have a long-term effect on your life, but it could give you gas for a day, if you're lactose intolerant.

 Other times, there are more significant consequences: Choosing to quit your demanding, stress-inducing job before you secure another one could leave you unemployed for a several months, happy but broke.

Whether the consequences are great or small, however, choosing well is important. Choosing to have that drink at Starbucks could be a really bad idea if you have a big presentation where you need to make a good impression. And being broke and unemployed is hardly ever a good idea, for you or your family and friends.

This year, my prayer is that I can make really wise choices—those that will benefit me now and in the future, as well as any new family members who might come along.

 Cheers to Good Choices!


-Chante

For the past several years, I have observed a ritual each December.  Towards the end of the month, I have debriefed the ending year, listing everything I’m thankful to God for.  Then, I have prepared for the upcoming year by creating a vision, a list of goals, and strategies for achieving those goals.

This past December, I did none of this.

This is because in December of 2009, I committed to allowing God to give me new wineskins in 2010.  I felt that He wanted to serve me new, fresh wine, but that I needed new wineskins in order to have the capacity to accommodate it.

2010 didn’t disappoint with its bitter-sweet drinks. In 2010, I:

• made a major shift in my career focus
• let go of a long-held dream
• released myself from all of my goals and strategies for the last quarter of the year
• embarked on a new path—one replete with hope, but devoid of guarantees

In short, I changed one plan, aborted another, delayed still another, and now have no plan at all.  (And this is blasphemous for a woman who always has a plan, even if that plan is simply to not have a plan.)  Over the course of the year, I went from reluctantly sipping wine that seemed bitter to freely gulping what came to taste sweet to my palette.

On New Year’s Eve, I sat in church, hoping for an idea for my 2011 vision.  Unsurprisingly, nothing came to mind.

Nothing except one word: love.

So in 2011, I will love. And be loved.  I have no goals, no strategy, no plan.  All I have is my relationship with Love, master teacher and most patient lover.

A Day At The Park

Saturday was hot. Super hot. I sat at the park, hiding from the sun under the shade of an awning, reading Writer’s Digest. Around the park were familiar sites:  kids running passionately in the color-matted play areas, parents hovering close by.  Birthday balloons swayed in the wind, while lovers cuddled up to each other, despite the smoldering heat.

Then I noticed something out of place: a young man punching the air, running.  And while I’ve come to expect eccentric behavior from my fellow Los Angelinos, I didn’t expect to see someone running at the height of the afternoon heat, punching an invisible enemy.  Yet there he was, doing it with hands bound with white tape, clear sweat running off his sun-baked brown skin.

He didn’t seem crazy; he seemed more concentrated than anything.  I concluded that he was training for something – a boxing match most likely.  Questions floated through my mind: Was he a student? A semi-pro or professional athlete?

When he passed by me the second time, this time walking, I asked him what he was training for. “The 2012 Olympics” he responded, matter-of-factly.  Wow, I thought.  I had never met anyone training for the Olympics.  For an instant, I pictured him entering the boxing ring: a red, white, and blue USA flag positioned proudly over his shoulders.

“I’m working through an injury, though,” he said, lifting up his t-shirt that revealed a black brace over the top half of his chest. My admiration for him increased.  We chitchatted for another minute before he left, off for another round of training.

I want to be more like this athlete.  I want to approach the goals I’ve set for my life with the same level of determination.  Today, I want to be preparing for a goal I’ve set for two years from now.  I want to work towards this goal every day, and on a Saturday afternoon, when most other people are relaxing after a long week of work.  And I want to do it at the height of something — when the sun is at its peak, when I’m most tired — because if I pursue my goal at the height of difficulty, then I can do it anytime.

Before the 2008 Olympics, Michael Phelps was practicing on Saturdays.  On Christmas Eve, he woke before the sun did, to swim.  And on Christmas morning, while his family members lay in bed, he rose early again, to work on his stroke. The results: eight gold medals.

I’m gonna keep an eye out for Brian Jones in the 2012 Olympics. He may just be the next Michael Phelps.

What Are The Chances?

Most of us live our lives asking ourselves the question, “What are my chances?”  What are my chances of getting caught speeding on this freeway? What are my chances of being the one to win this raffle?  What are my chances of getting this girl to go out with me?

We consider the probability of our success: not very good, okay, 1 out of 100, 1 out of 10,000, 1 out of a million, and we respond accordingly.  The greater the probability or likelihood of us succeeding, the more likely we are to attempt it.  And the lower the probability, the less likely we are to try.

But there’s a problem when we begin to make life decisions based on mathematical probability, when we allow statistics to dictate what’s possible for our lives.

First of all, we are allowing mathematical reasoning to stop us from pursuing something that we want.  Now, I believe that you should go after whatever you want (assuming it’s moral and not hurtful to anyone), whether it’s a desire to learn the piano at the age of fifty (my grandma did this) or a goal of becoming a medical doctor at sixty (my friend’s mom is in the process of applying to medical school).  It’s been said before, but you do only get one life. Why let a number stand in your way?

Secondly, we’re people, not numbers.  We have infinite potential to match any number’s infinity.  As individuals and as a race, we are constantly redefining what’s statistically possible. Grandmothers are giving birth to newborns. (Now, whether they should or not is another conversation.)  New world records in track and swimming and other Olympic sports are commonplace.  We can do more than was ever thought possible.

Thirdly, when we automatically assume that we won’t be the one to succeed, we are saying that we don’t believe that we could be the one blessed enough to receive the prize.  Some of us believe that nothing good ever happens to us and that we never get a break. Yes, we’re magnets for all the bad stuff life has to offer.  We devalue ourselves.  And in the end, not a lot of great stuff does happen to us, not because it couldn’t have, but because we never even tried.

But truth be told, “it” happens to every-day people all the time, maybe even each day. Every day, a not-so-hot-looking guy asks a gorgeous girl to go out on a date, and she says yes.  Every year, a student who didn’t have Ivy League school grades receives an acceptance letter from Harvard. Every week, some housewife who entered a contest for a free mini-van gets the news to come and pick up the keys to her new cherry red Dodge Caravan.  And every year, some guy gets to quit his day job because he has finally become a full-time “working actor.”

Now, sometimes those who beat the odds do appear to be lucky. (Like the guy who sits on his couch all day only to win fifty million dollars in the California lottery!)   And sometimes, they are.  They do absolutely nothing to deserve the prize, and they get it.  But usually, the one who wins worked really hard to be able to win. The college basketball player who got drafted to the NBA dedicated years of his life to practice and gym work-outs before he became a part of the small percentage of college athletes drafted. His hard work increased the probability for his success and helped him “beat the odds.”

Work it so that you can either increase the probability of your success or so that you can you can beat the odds.  Either way, you gotta work it. Work hard. Work a lot.  Work smart.

A mantra that I developed in high school is “Somebody’s gonna win it! Why not me?”  Asking this question has led me to enter writing contests, scholarship contests, beauty contests, and the occasional raffle. And while I’ve lost more than I’ve won, I’ve won more than most people. I’ve travelled throughout California, the U.S., and the world for free because I had the audacity to hope. (Okay, not really.)

“Why not me?”  It’s a bold question, and I’m excited to see where else it takes me in life.

Why not you?

Mid-Year Reflections

Today is the first day of the second half of 2010.  Hard to believe, huh?


This year is not at all what I envisioned it to be, but it's better than I could have dreamed it could be.
I began the year with a list of goals totaling eight pages.   Half way into the year however, I've scratched off many of those goals and put some on hold.  Why? Because I'm discovering (slowly) that it's okay.  (See blog post It's Okay.)  It's okay not to get so much accomplished; It's okay to rest more and not maximize every moment.


Day by day, I am learning the meaning of what God said ten years ago, when I was asking what I should do with my life.  He told me, "Who you become is much more important than what you do."


My being a loving daughter is more important than my being a prolific writer.  My being a compassionate friend and colleague is more important than my being a highly sought after speaker.


So, as I reflect about what I've accomplished during the first half of 2010, what stands out isn't just what I've accomplished, but whom I've become in the process.  I am grateful that I am more loving, and compassionate, and patient than I was six months ago.  I am less fearful, and anxious, and driven.


As a result, I look forward to the rest of this year, not just for what I can accomplish, but for the internal work that can be accomplished in me.


How has the first half of the year gone for you? Whom do you want to become?

What Are You Shooting For?

Watching the third quarter of tonight's Lakers game was like watching a live, play-by-play lesson in tenacity. The Lakers had a twenty-point lead over the Boston Celtics, but would they keep it? I had seen many games where the Lakers managed to lose after having possessed a two-digit lead. To me, they were defending champions, and they were champions at botching it in the final quarter.

Would tonight be the same? Would they maintain their lead, or would they start strong but finish behind? I knew that their intensity level would determine it. They could be tempted to think that victory was all but guaranteed; twenty points was a large number, even an intimidating one. The Lakers could decide that all they needed to do was maintain their lead. Or, they could decide that twenty wasn't enough. They could make it their goal to demolish the Celtics, to send them back to their hotel rooms tired, demoralized, and embarrassed.

And that's exactly what they did. The final score: 89-67.

Watching the Lakers fight complacency and play through pain and injuries schooled me. Do I stop pressing once I reach a certain level of success, thinking that I can coast to the finish line, or do I work with the same determination and sense of urgency that I did to reach that initial level of success?

Hopefully the Lakers will shoot for another demolition and clinch a back-to-back championship.

4 More Ways To Make Sure You DON'T Snag A New Job

9.7% of Americans are unemployed, according to Trading Economics. And anecdotal evidence suggests that the percentage is higher because many people, convinced that they won’t find a job, have just stopped looking.

If you’re unemployed, partially employed, or hoping to switch gigs, here are a few tips that I used that helped me land my new gig.

4 Ways To Make Sure You DON'T Snag A New Job:

4.  Prioritize something else. 

Unless you’re either a millionaire or have oodles and oodles of money in your reserves, finding a job should be your number one priority.  Many people, who thought that they would be able to secure a job within a month or two, have yet to find jobs, and they were let go of in 2009.  Rejuvenation is good, taking time to figure out what you want to do next is great, and reconnecting with family and friends is invaluable, but don’t forget to make getting a job your top commitment.

3.  Blend in.

Like everyone else, send in a bland cover letter, citing three reasons why you are the perfect candidate, and close it with a request for an interview—not!  Find a way to set yourself apart from other candidates.  Some ideas include: starting the cover letter by saying,” You should hire me.  Really.” and then spend the rest of the letter saying why.  Or, begin with a story that sheds light on your character, background, or experience.  Some folks are even creating their own websites, while others are shooting and sending video résumés.  I created a one-sheet for a job interview I had a while back.  I used two columns to compare what the company was looking for, to my qualifications.  Bullet point by bullet point I showed how my experience matched up to their requirements.  I included the company's logo on one side, and my picture on the other. It was concise and clean. It must have worked, cause I landed the job the following week.

Do something—anything—that sets you apart from the rest.

2.  Do What You’ve Always Done.

If what you’ve always done isn’t getting you the results you want, then maybe you should try something different.  If you’ve always just had one résumé, have you thought about having two to three different résumés? One of my friends has three résumés: marketing, administrative, and gaming.  Each résumé focuses on a different job sector and highlights skills and experiences most relevant to that sector.

Have you always just gone online to find jobs? If so, maybe you should ask family members and friends.  Is networking how you primarily secure jobs? If yes, there could be a cool job waiting for you online, or maybe even in the classifieds.

1.     Just Do The Basics.

When you get called in for the interview, don’t just read the company’s website.  Study it. Memorize parts.  And then, think about how you would fit in with the company.  How do its values and mission connect to yours?   Be prepared to talk about this during your interview, and I guarantee you that you will wow them!

Our Beloved Gary

He won his way into our hearts with his chubby cheeks, cute face, and charismatic, "Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Willis?" I still remember the episode where he asked Willis to hang him on the pole in their bedroom closet so that he could grow a few more inches.

For eight years, actor Gary Coleman brought laughter into our homes each week as little Arnold Jackson on TV’s "Diff'rent Strokes."  On May 28, 2010, at the age of 42, Coleman passed away. On the surface, his life story reads like the script of a B-level movie, replete with the predictable child-star-gone-bad plot. But in this script, there’s a twist.

Like many child stars, Coleman struggled with his parents over money. He wanted to control it. They wanted to control it. They fought. They became estranged.  And like many child stars (and some adult stars), Coleman felt trapped in the shadow of the TV character that made propelled him to fame. Decades of hearing fans yell out “Hey, Arnold!” or "Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Willis?" kept Coleman in the past, never-ending reminders that to many people, he was a fictitious character who existed only in the past, with no present life and no future.

But unlike many child stars, the trait that catapulted him to fame is the trait that blocked continued fame. Yes, other child stars had to shed their cuteness and youthful personas to establish themselves as legitimate adult actors. (Drew Barrymore and Ricky Rick Schroeder are two examples.) But none of them had to overcome a persona resulting from a disease.

Coleman’s 4’8” frame resulted from a congenial kidney disease. And while it enabled him to play the role of child Arnold Jackson for several years without any “inconvenient” growth spurts, it’s his seemingly perennial youth that prevented us from seeing that like us, he too was aging, maturing. 


The show’s eight successful seasons and its years in syndication cemented him in our minds as our little Arnold. His body was ours to hug, his cheeks ours to pinch, and his being ours to photograph, at will. Perhaps this is what abraded Coleman the most—not just that he wasn’t allowed to have his own identity—but that he wasn’t allowed to be a man, the one that he had grown into once the cameras stopped rolling.

“It’s Okay”

Monday was the worst day I’ve had in a long time. After I hit my alarm clock, I laid back down, pulling the covers over my head, refusing to venture out. I don’t want to go to work. Maybe I can call in sick. I wasn’t sick. I just had a bad case of dread.

I had an important deadline to meet, and I had a bad feeling that I wasn’t going to make it, despite my best efforts. From Thursday to Sunday, I had tried to write the piece on five separate occasions. The results? Twelve sentences, half of which were cliché-laden. Some were pretty okay. Others sucked. But worse, nothing was clicking. I brainstormed idea after idea, changing approaches and playing with tone. In the end, though, false leads were my only leads.

As Sunday night neared, I knew that I was going to have to call the show’s director and tell her that I had nothing. Again. I had missed my original Saturday morning deadline, asking for more time. I dreaded having to tell her that I had nothing to give her, nothing to present to the composers and the choreographers who were gathering the following day to put music and dance to my words. It was worse than any scenario a horror writer could have dreamed up for me. It felt as if I was in a living nightmare—one that I had self-produced.

I had given my friend an enthusiastic “yes!” when she had asked me if I wanted to perform spoken word as the Walt Disney Concert Hall. I had viewed the sketches of the hall before it was built in downtown Los Angeles. It was an architectural feat, rivaled only by its masterful musicians. The idea of performing there had been too tempting to pass up.

But now, I was wishing that I had given an enthusiastic, "no!" So I pulled the covers over my head, convinced that if I didn’t start the day, I wouldn’t have to face impending failure. Slowly, I peeled myself out of bed and sat on my chair to pray. I cried. I told God that I didn’t want to fail. I asked for some sort of inspiration, again. Maybe this time He would provide some? Then something said, “It’s okay”.

I asked God to help me believe that.

At work, I tried not to think about the project too much. I just prayed that God would enable me to be okay with whatever the outcome.

Once back at home, I grabbed my laptop, said a little prayer, and began looking over my notes. I had allotted myself one and a half hours to complete the piece. I knew that if it didn’t come during that time, then it wasn’t gonna come. I stared at the words, but it felt like they just stared right back at me.

I waited to feel the inspiration that comes when I write. I waited for a feeling, or an image, or a string of words. I waited, but nothing came. I sat for twenty minutes. And then another twenty. And then I cried. Again.

I could have remained there another fifty minutes, but I knew that my problem couldn’t be fixed with time. I had nothing, and nothing was going to come. I had known it all day. I had a date with failure, and I was out of rain checks.

I would have to tell my friend and the director that I had failed, and that I was a spoken word artist with nothing to say.

Tears fell on my laptop as I typed an email to the director, detailing my failed attempts. I was slightly embarrassed, but was too tired and spent to be completely embarrassed. I had done my best, and for the very first time my best was nothing.

Never before had I missed an important deadline. Never before had I been unable to deliver on command. But surprisingly, the cloud of mini-depression that had been hanging over my head the entire weekend was gone because I knew that it was alright. I had tried, and failed. And tried, and failed. Received help, and tried, and failed. I did all that I knew to do, and I fell short. It felt awful, but Monday was the first step in knowing that it really is okay.

Daily Affirmation #5: I Persist Until I Succeed

I arrived to class thirty minutes early. The room was packed. The professor took roll. He peaked over his wire-framed glasses, and mumbled, “I don’t know the best way to do this…” As he spoke, two more people walked in and stood by the wall. They wanted to add, too. Dang it!

“The only fair thing to do,” he responded, “is to have a raffle. Everyone who wants to add this class, write your name down on a slip of paper and put it in this hat. I only have room for thirty-five students.” Paper tears echoed throughout the classroom. I wasn’t excited about a raffle. Couldn’t we find a more fair system—like who had arrived first? I had arrived in class thirty minutes early, but I had arrived at school an hour and a half early. Didn’t that count for something?

As the raffle began, I was hopeful. Surely my name could be one of the six picked to remain in the class. After three names had been selected, my hope began to diminish. By the time the fifth name was called, all hope was gone. My name was not going to be called. And it wasn’t. I sat in my seat, surrounded by a blanket of disbelief. But I had felt that I should take the class. How could I not get in?

“If you didn’t make it in this semester, you can try again next semester,” the professor told us, in hopes of absolution. For a moment, I thought that I should just take the class the following semester, but the next semester was six months away.

That was six months of putting off my dream. Six months of trying to figure out the art of writing by myself. That was unacceptable. I thought, I persist until I succeed. With heavy backpacks in hand, and heavy faces to match, the rejected students walked out of class.  “Or, you could try again next week. Maybe some folks will drop…” the professor muttered.

I sat in my chair. I couldn’t—wouldn’t move. I had to get into the class. Two other students sat in their chairs, unwilling to move. Eventually the professor said, “If you’re not enrolled in the class, you should leave now.” I walked up the front. “May I stay for a little while, just to see what the class is like?”

“Sure,” he responded, hesitantly.

Hearing the professor detail the books and topics to be covered, I became more convinced that I did belong in the class. So, I decided that I would just stay. I would participate, like I was a student, and then return the following week, like he said we could.

So, as he walked us through the syllabus, I took detailed notes. He divided us into groups and had us brainstorm story ideas. I created my list and shared it with my group. They liked it so much that they selected my idea to share with the entire class during discussion time.

During the break, the professor looked at me intently and inquired, “You’re not in this class, right?” “No…but I will be,” I responded confidently. “How?” he asked. ”I don’t know, but I figure that if I leave now, then when I do get in, I’ll be behind.” He looked at me and smiled, very slowly. “I like your persistence.”

“I persist until I succeed,” I responded, almost robotically.

Then he gave us our first assignment. “Interview someone in the class and then write a story about them. If there is an odd number, one of you can just interview me.”

I walked up to a beautiful Filipina woman and asked her if she wanted to be partners. “Sure,” she responded. But just as I began to interview her, I realized that there was an odd number of students in the class. One of my classmates was stuck interviewing the professor. I walked up the front and told the guy to take my spot because I wasn’t actually enrolled in the class yet. This way, I wouldn’t be disturbing the flow of the class, plus I would get to talk with the professor, which would increase the likelihood that he would let me in the class.

“What was your very first writing gig?”

“Who was your favorite interviewee?”

“What would you tell your daughter if she wanted to become a writer?”


Thirty minutes later my professor was smiling as he reminisced about his twenty plus year career as a writer.


“Now it’s time to write your stories,” he instructed the class.  It was at this moment that the weight of my predicament hit me. Yes, it had been a good idea to interview my professor because it enabled me to build a relationship with him. However, is it ever a good idea to write a story about a writer? Especially if you’re a novice writer and your subject is a professional writer with credits that make you salivate?


I began to type. The words came, ideas emerged, but fear lay submerged. What if I misquoted him? What if I got the facts wrong? Was my tone okay? It had been years since I’d taken a news writing course.


I handed the story in to the professor, very hesitantly. In fact, I took it back. (I wanted to spell check it again, just in case.)

To follow up, I sent him and email the following day:


“Professor Stambler,

I had a lot of fun in class last night. (I wish that I could say that I had interviewed Quincy Jones! )

Anyways, I am eager to join the class. If space becomes available during the week, you can email me the add number. If you don't know until Monday, however, then I can add it when I arrive.

Thanks! I'm looking forward to learning a lot this semester.

Sincerely,

Chante Griffin”

I arrived at class the following week early. I looked around for the people who had left the week before. None of them returned. Professor Stambler handed my interview to me. “Chante, “ he wrote, “How can I refuse you now? Here’s your add code: 282983022.”  Then, he took roll. I was number thirty-six.

You Ready to Set-It-Off?

Have you ever felt that there was so much to do, and not enough time? Is there a long list of things that you want to do—projects that you want to complete, but you’re unsure of how to tackle them?

Fall of 2009, after completing a summer teaching gig, I found myself underemployed with a laundry list of career and personal goals. I had promised God that since I was only working part-time, that I would steward my time especially well, making it a point to do a lot of the things that would be much more difficult if I worked full-time.

Then, voila, I heard that Set-4-Life* was beginning! Set-4-Life is a 90-day game that helps you reach your goals and work towards your life’s purpose. Each player creates a list of goals, including an accountability plan, and is paried with a partner, given a coach, and placed on a team. Individuals compete against each other & teams challenge each other. But the most intense competition is the one you have against yourself.

*You can play the game from anywhere in the U.S. or the world!

My Set-4-Life goals included:

1. A spiritual goal—continuing to pray every day (or nearly every day) for a specified amount of time.
2. A physical fitness goal—working out 5 times a week.
3. An intellectual goal—5 hours of book reading each week.
4. Numerous career goals, which included writing, memorizing & practicing scripts, and projects.
5. A financial goal, which shall remain anonymous because this is the Internet, after all.

The Results:

Here’s some of what I did in my 60-day game (the fall game was shorter):

• I wrote 6 articles, read 7 books, learned countless scripts, created a website, developed a more fit, and yes-bangin body. And I became best friends with Jesus.

I got more done in two months than I had in the previous nine months of 2009! Set-4-Life took my understanding and application of achievement to another level. But just as important as what I accomplished is what I learned.

I learned:

• What motivates me vs. what creates a sense of drudgery within me.
• That sometimes the thought, “I’m tired” is a good reaston to stop working, but a lof of the time, it’s just a state of mind that, if ignored, fades away.
• That laser-like focus and painful sacrifice are necessary ingredients in the pie of life. (Cheesy? Yeah. True? Oh yeah.)
• Lots more, but this is blog, not a book! (But if you wanna know more, just ask!)

The next Set-4-Life game begins on Monday, February 8, 2010. It’s 90 days that will change your life!

If there’s anything you’ve been wanting to do—any project you have yet to finish, any habit or discipline you want to cultivate, then you should play Set-4-Life.

Go to http://web.me.com/georgebthompson/Site/Set_-_4_-_Life.html NOW to find out more info and to register!

Why wait until 2010? Start Now!

My fifteen year-old cousin arrived in Los Angeles a few days ago. “I’m a vegetarian now,” she declared, while plopping down in a chair in my kitchen. “Oh, you are?” I asked, skeptically. “And how did this happen?” “Well,” she began, smiling brightly, “I just happened to go an entire week with no meat, and I felt that I had so much more energy. I would wake up, and I wouldn’t be tired. So, now I’m not eating meat anymore.”

“Sounds good,” I responded, slightly impressed, yet somewhat skeptical still. As she jumped out of the chair and ran upstairs, my grandma entered. “Yeah, Rayne says she’s a vegetarian now. How long do you think that’ll last?” “Well, when did she start?” I asked. “Right after Thanksgiving. She wanted to wait until after Thanksgiving to start.”

“Oh,” I replied, more skeptical than ever. “She hasn’t even made it through a holiday yet? I don’t think she’ll make it through Christmas.”

The next day, Rayne sat down next to me with a plate of shrimp. Probing, I said, “I thought you weren’t gonna eat meat anymore?” “I’m waiting until after Christmas,” she responded.

Yeah, right, I thought. And my friend is going to start her cleanse after Christmas, just like my aunt is going to start her diet at the beginning of the year, for the tenth year in a row.

Although my skepticism remains high, I am hopeful for each of them. But not very, cause the truth is it’s easiest to start a new diet, a new exercise, a new habit, or program at the beginning of something—the start of a calendar year, a birthday celebration, a new week, a new month. It’s a lot harder to do it now, at the end of something.

It’s more difficult to do something different when you’re in the middle of something, and it’s been a struggle. It’s easy to write off the now and instead fantasize about the future. It’s easier to fantasize about the you who you will be in the future than confront the you who you are presently. One is disciplined with massive will power; the other greets struggle and disappointment in the mirror.

But the beautiful thing about the now is that it is immediate. You can change now. There is no need to wait until next year, after Christmas, or even tomorrow. You can do _________ (fill in the blank) or not do _________ (fill in the blank) now!

I know that the holidays can be a difficult time to diet, exercise, and do the important things that often get pushed to the side because of the urgency of buying gifts, travelling, cooking meals, and preparing for guests. But now is the best time to test yourself—to prove to yourself what you can do, despite the many distractions and temptations, including your grandma’s sweet potato pie! If you’re planning on giving up sweets in 2010, start now. Yes, you will miss out on the many tasty treats Christmas provides. But, you will gain the satisfaction of knowing that you maintained self-control at the height of temptation.

And as you enter a new year, you will enter it knowing that if you can maintain your fitness goals during what is arguably the most difficult time to diet in the year, then you can do it throughout 2010, especially when you go to those special events where you and your diet usually mutually agree to “take a break.” These events include but are definitely not limited to that special Valentine’s day dinner, your friend’s St. Patrick’s Day party, that enormous Easter buffet in March, your cousin’s wedding in April, your friend’s wedding in May, …you get the picture.

If you start now, you will have set yourself up for success in 2010. Why? Because you will have done the hardest thing first. You will have started something new not when it was easiest, but when it was the hardest. You will have done the difficult thing in the most difficult circumstances.

And as the year starts, you will enter it not talking about what you’re “going to do”, but instead continuing to do what you already started in 2009.

This confidence will aid you as you’re running (or walking) on the treadmill in January, knowing that you have a few less pounds to lose than everyone else who said “yes” to the pound cake, and the peach cobbler, and grandma’s sweet potato pie.

So, what new thing are you doing in 2009?

The Loved One

Like most people, I was a Michael Jackson fan, but unlike most, I shared a birthday with the late pop star. Michael was born on August 29, 1958, and twenty years to the date, I was born. I felt so connected to Michael that for years I was convinced that I was the Pretty Young Thang he was singing about, even though I was only six-years-old when the song debuted.

When I first heard the news of Michael’s passing, I thought I was being punk’d. Seriously. It didn’t matter that I’m not famous and that Ashton Kutcher has never heard of me. I was being punk’d, lied to, bamboozled. I was sure of it. After all, I was sitting in a talent agent’s office and the two people telling me the news were actors, so it was fairly easy for me to convince myself that they were playing a practical joke on me. Yes, I convinced myself that two strangers had conspired to trick me for no apparent reason. That felt more believable than the awful news they brought.

When my mother confirmed the news a few minutes later, I realized that I wasn’t the target of some new hidden camera show. I was the victim of something much worse—grief, for Michael’s death felt strangely personal.

I don’t know why it hit me so hard. Not sure why it took three weeks for me to feel that I was in fact living in reality, and not some poorly plotted reality show. Although fifty-years-old, Michael seemed to be on top of the world, more untouchable than Hammer, more indestructible than the Man of Steel himself. When he sang, I listened, when he danced, I marveled, and when he sang, “I’ll be there,” I believed that he would be—always.

He wasn’t just the King of Pop. He was the King of music, the consummate entertainer, a trailblazing performer who shattered records and raised the bar until he became the bar. He was Michael Jackson, known simply as “M.J.”

M.J.’s music was magical. It had a way of drowning out everything else, even if only for 3:53. When you were listening to M.J., all that mattered was the driving beat and the accompanying movement in your pelvis. You danced to Thriller alongside perfect strangers, declared that Billie Jean was not your lover, and grabbed your crotch like it was socially acceptable.

When you were dancing to Michael, you felt gooooood. You felt the music inside of your body, feeling that the only way to express it was to dance and sing at the top of your lungs. And it didn’t matter if you looked good or sounded good cause the person next to you was singing louder than you. When you were listening to Michael, all that mattered was the music, and it like it was right inside of you, where it was meant to be.

Michael was everything we longed to be. He was, first and foremost, a cultural revolutionary—influencing industries from music to fashion, individuals from Britney Spears to Russell Simmons, and cultures from Motown to Moscow. Who else could turn “Shamone” into a word and create a language composed entirely of screams and grunts that people worldwide recited?

Additionally, Michael possessed a raw talent that was awe-inspiring. While a boy, he sang his way into our hearts with his youthful, soulful voice. As a young man, he moon walked his way into our collective soul with his timeless lyrics and pulsating music. A full-grown man, he declared “I’m bad!” and we replied, “You know it!”

He was—simply put—the best. And who among us hasn’t wanted to be that?

But within his success laid his demise. Fame’s favorite son, he became fame’s prisoner—first enthralled by her, then held captive by her, and finally choked by her.

And while I claim to know neither the inner workings of Michael Jackson nor the world in which he inhabited, I believe that he died years before his physical death on June 25, 2009.

Perhaps his death began with his first plastic surgery.

Or maybe a part of him died the first time that he wore a disguise in public so that he could feel “normal.”

It’s possible that he died when he essentially created his own city, Neverland Ranch, where play was supreme and Michael attempted the impossible—to regain a lost childhood.

Some believe that a part of Michael died when he was accused of child molestation, which resulted in him vowing never to live in Neverland again.

Or perhaps his very public divorce from Lisa Marie Presley killed him?

One could argue that Michael died the first time that he took a prescription drug, whether he needed it or not.

What is for sure is that Michael’s death was unexpected, tragic, and mourned by the masses.

Michael overdosed on a life filled with excess: excessive fame, excessive money, and excessive access; he could buy any material thing that he wanted. But what he seemed to want the most—inner peace—seemed to evade him.

The various plastic surgeries didn’t bring it; neither did the million-dollar shopping sprees. Even the world that he built for himself didn’t provide the sense of security for which he seemed to be searching. He never got enough, so he never stopped. He died, still dancing, although his half-of-a-century-old frame couldn’t endure the intensity of another tour. We wanted more. He wanted to give us more. His finances suggested he needed to give us more. But he couldn’t.

Although the details of his death remain unclear, what is clear is that we never really understood Michael. Fame’s veil separated us.