Procrastination

We don’t stumble over mountains; we stumble, trip and fall over small pebbles. But an aggregation of small pebbles soon will become a mountain.

That’s the truth. I am stumbling over a mountain.

I have been greatly vexed by small pebbles that I will only name for the sake of getting past the first step to recovery, denial.

Pebble number one—Type One Procrastination, which goes by the surname Easily Distracted.

Being easily distracted is a very common disorder and usually develops in adolescence. Most individuals will not understand the seriousness of type one procrastination until they have sat and watched Spongebob Squarepants for 6 hours, trying to figure out who Sandy Cheeks’ voice comes from, knowing they have a science project due at 8 am the next day.

Pebble number two—Type Two Procrastination, which goes by the surname I Wait Until The Last Minute To Do Everything.

Last Minute syndrome is a more serious phase. You have to consider the individual already has experienced Type One Procrastination. So even in the last minute they are still distracted by something as minute as the blinking colon on the lcd clock, sitting on the left side of the desk in their room.

Pebble Number Three—Procrastination, Pebble Number 6,998,421.4—procrastination.

If you don’t understand yet, I have an issue with procrastination.

But I have a dream, that one day, my pen and paper, my finger and keyboard, my body and soul will break down the barriers of procrastination. My children will be able to play on the monkey bars the day before their science project is due. From the first page, to the twenty fifth page of my research paper, their will be no procrastination. I will become a 4.0 student. Oh wait, this is my last year of school.

I wrote that just before my last semester of college, guess what, I got my 4.0’s my last two semesters.

College/Casino...Whatever same thing!

College is a casino.

You walk in the door and you put everything you have on black, journalism, or computer sciences. Whatever major you chose that’s where you placed your bet. You have four years to strengthen your bet maybe more if you decide you can afford to stay in the casino longer.

The casino comes equipped with a nice hotel you can stay at, with food, friendly people on every floor just waiting for you, help lounges, workshops and everything else you’re going to need to stay and keep gambling.

If your bet falls through and you lose all of your money, what do you do? You move to a different table.

You switch from the craps table to the slots. You come back and you change your major.

This is the practical view of what college is.

Today, many people are realizing they want or have to establish a different career because something fell through with the last career. They find themselves back in college classes or trade schools for a second time.

This time they are hoping to give themselves a more solid assurance that they are making the right choice.

While you’re in college, make sure you are making the right choice. Learn what your college degree can do for you before it won’t make due for you.

The real world is one tough craps table.

You get from the table what you put in.

Think big, bet big. But make sure your bet is going to play out for you.
You have a rare opportunity to peak at the cards of everyone else at your table. You know what it will take to win. Why not just go all in and do it.

While you’re here don’t put all of your quarters in one machine. Find all of the things you are good at and make them work for you. Make a solid bet on what you think will make you more competitive and stronger in the future.
I started college as an advertising major because I thought I would be good at it. Two years and $60,000 later, I realized I was wrong.

Journey to Brixton

I never knew the Atlantic Ocean was so small.

Brixton neatly places Africa and the Caribbean together in one city and finally there is a town big enough for two sheriffs. As an African American travelling to London for a summer I went looking for English culture instead I found an arena of Blackness I didn’t know exist.

England is known as the fashion capital of the world, a place for high tea and of course the queen. But all the travel guides I viewed before my study abroad in London forgot to tell me about Brixton.

Before I could even use my broken British accent I practiced by listening to Idris Elba they already knew I was an American girl. Still, they didn’t turn me away; they welcomed me into their city and showed me London from their eyes.

In Brixton you can buy jerk chicken on one corner and black soap on the other. You can dance to reggae and rap to djembe beats until the British cops roll in, and then you realize Brixton is a lot like Harlem.

For Blacks, Brixton is a cultural epicenter that embodies our music: jazz, rap, reggae, gospel and hip hop. But for British cops it’s known as the most crime ridden part of England. Well, forget what the cops say, Brixton is amazing.

Brixton was just what I needed to complete my English journey.

In West London I got dapper with the British women. I dressed in a much higher fashion than I ever knew I was capable of. I mixed pallets of gray, green and navy with salmon and crème. But in Brixton I got to kick it with the people who like to listen to classic James Brown records and can make a mean cornbread.

Our style of dress was the absolute norm. The brother with the long dreads, Yankee fitted cap, and sandals, that’s right sandals, was more than fresh, it was symbolic.

The street markets are so overwhelming with products that only we know how to use it makes you want to spend every pound in your pocket.

Brixton made me feel like a worldwide bond of blackness between the Africans, Caribbeans and African Americans had just been made it could never be broken. We were all simply black, enjoying the rich culture that connected us all.

When all of our attention was drawn away by Obama’s picture on a young boy’s shirt, crafted from rhinestones, there was no doubt that our hearts were on a simultaneous beat. They explained to me that they couldn’t vote for him but they had cast a vote of respect from their hearts.

Now, we were open to each other, free to speak about anything we wanted.
In an Afro-Caribbean restaurant, eating what was similar to soul food, just with a whole lot more soul, men and women shared opened their hearts to me.

They shared their stories about how they journeyed as families to England and have found new opportunities and community. They spoke of their love for the Black leaders we have in America and what divided Africans and Caribbeans for years and what eventually brought them together, respect.

I made a promise to a charming woman named Carol that I would do my best to tell the world what a magnificent place Brixton is.
Brixton is more than amazing.

It’s one of the treasures of the worldwide Black community. It taught me to appreciate Blackness in every way it comes. Whether it’s tapered, dread-locked, braided, permed or in a fro, Black is internationally beautiful.