Can't Stop the Pressure on Me

There are many wonderful perks to being a Greek. I don't mean "Greek" as in palakaris, patridhas, or descendent from ancestors born in Smyrna (thank you Eungenides), but I mean "Greek" as in being a member of the National Panhellenic Council. This council is comprised of nine, historically black fraternities and sororities: Alpha Phi Alpha (1906), Alpha Kappa Alpha (1908), Kappa Alpha Psi (1911), Omega Psi Phi (1911), Phi Beta Sigma (1914), Zeta Phi Beta (1920), Sigma Gamma Rho (1922), and Iota Phi Theta (1963). Each organization, though upholding different thrusts and beliefs, all follow the basic principles of scholarship, brotherhood/sisterhood, and service. Regardless of what he/she chose to become a part of, respect is (or should be) given to the founders of these Divine 9 organizations. The founders designed the fraternities and sororities during periods of oppression and discrimination against black people, used them as an outlet for collegiate students to establish a bond with others who shared the same morals and ideas, and to also provide service to their community. It is amazing to see that many of these organizations have reach 100+ years, and all are continuing to grow in membership.





My first introduction to Greek life was through my second grade teacher, Ms. Green. Ms Green was a tall, thin, elementary school teacher with long hair and an obsession for the football player Deion Sanders. My classmates loved her because she was young, "hip," and would create fun raps and rhymes for us to remember equations, measurements, or state capitals (I can still recall one that helped with remembering the days, weeks, and months in a year. Smh...) Unlike my fellow students however, I did not put Ms. Green on a pedestal. For some reason, there was something about me that she did not like. At times, I felt as if she picked on me for no reason at all, and often she made me cry in front of the class or hold up dictionaries. It even got to a point where my mother and sister threatened to go up to my school and "set her straight," but because I was afraid that I would face repercussions in class the next day, I cried and pleaded for them not to. One day, Ms. Green showed us a video of some "club" that she was in, and while I don't remember much of the video, I DO remember the women doing what she called "stepping." I watched it with partial curiosity, mostly dislike, and made a vow that whatever club she was in, I would never be a part of.

My second exposure to Greekdom would be from the television show "A Different World." I would watch and look at the extras walking in the background, thinking "What the hell are those letters on their shirt?" Other shows such as "Moesha" and "Fresh Prince of Bel-Air" would soon follow with episodes about pledging and "being on line," but I still had no idea of what sororities and fraternities were and what did they do. Not until I reach U of M. As a freshman, I walked around Festifall trying to decide which sisterhood was the best for me. It was never a question as to if I would join a sorority in college. That was something I decided by high school. The question was "which one?" After researching many orgs, I felt the right organization for me was Zeta Phi Beta Sorority Incorporated. I'll spare you the "interview response" of why I chose to wear the royal blue and white, but I will sum it up: Gamma Delta, finer womanhood, networking and my second family. Women who have been there for me through thick and thin, and, as I said before, added to my college experience.




The stepshows, the strolling, the parties-those are the fun aspects. Any Greek would tell you that. U of M's Greek life has a been....a rollercoaster to say the least. But I've met some great people, and we had some good times. And while there are some who argue that the Greek life on our campus isn't what it used to be, we have came a long way.




But while there is the bright side to Greekdom, there's also the dark side. To outsiders, there's always speculation about what that "dark side" consists of, but Greeks who deal with it on a daily basis can understand the pressure and stress being Greek causes. There were many times when I had to step back, breathe, and go back to the reasons why I became Greek in the first place. I refused (and still do) to let the ignorance, foolishness, conceitedness, envy, and spitefulness of others- sorors and bruhs included -denigrate my reason for becoming a Zeta. In joining the org, I knew that I was not only making a commitment just for undergrad, but for a lifetime. As much as I will miss my undergraduate chapter, I can't wait to experience what it's like to be in a graduate chapter. I've already prepared myself for the 180-degree change, but I'm sure it will still be a positive experience....especially since there's already GD alum in the chapter. :-)

What led me to write this blog is one of the other aspects to the dark side of Greekdom- the inability to separate Greek life from personal life. It is something that frustrates me to no end. While my graduate chapter will be something that I'm a part of as an adult, I'm proud to say that I know that my life will not revolve around the chapter and chapter business. I've joined urban planning committees and officially became a member of the APA, I'll still be working two jobs, thinking about joining a church family, etc. etc. There's so much going on in my life, that I don't have time to think about Zeta 24/7. Unfortunately, that doesn't go for every Greek. There are those who talk about nothing but "being owt," stepshows, and parties, and the ironically, the ones who practically preach on Twitter "Greeks need to stop talking about Greek stuff all the time!" are the main ones who have Greek-related discussions or trending topics polluting my timeline and newsfeed. And on days like that, I avoid the social networks and pay attention to what's going on in the real world. Christina first, Zeta second.




By the way, my second grade teacher? I won't disclose her sorority. I'll just say that her name fitted her. ;-)

Never Can Say Goodbye

Today, I decided to take a different approach and dedicate my blog to two of my friends who have graced my life with their presence, and have moved on to bigger and better things in life. These are friendships developed out of a summer program at the University of Michigan, but before I begin, a brief background, perhaps?:

The Summer Bridge Program, or Bridge, was a program that we ("we" referring to almost 200 minority students) were forced to go to two weeks after we graduated from high school. In addition, we had to pay a $300 ($500?) fee which essentially was all of the money I received from my open house. All Bridge students were required to stay in the Mary Markley dormitory, a place known for bug infestations, bats, and rooms which felt like sweatboxes. We did have great Peer Advisors (PAs) who were always willing to provide a listening ear or help with homework (IF there weren't thirsty females desperately trying to catch the eye of attractive PAs through practically throwing themselves at people as if they never laid eyes on man/woman before...but that's a different story.) There were rumors, parties, hook-ups, MIPs, friendships formed that lasted the duration of college, and friendships that ended at the start of the Fall 2005 semester.

Oh and me? It's safe to say that at the time, I hated Bridge. We were constantly threatened by PAs to not go home, "or else." Since the "or else" was never clearly defined, I made it a point to go home damn near every weekend. When I wasn't home, I was in my sweatbox watching Missy Elliot, Dem Franchise Boys, and B5 videos on BET. For the most part, I maintained a low profile in Bridge (I was still very shy). I WAS, however, know as "the girl the satin pjs and sheets."

Luckily for me, there were people who made Bridge, and/or life after Bridge, exciting and helped me to understand the other aspect of going to college that falls outside the realms of academia. We'll start with....

Branden (bka B, B-Sneez, or "Dora" to some) Snyder- I met Branden in Bridge and he was randomly chilling with Kelli Keno. While we probably don't remember many details to our first meeting, we 'd both agree that we met at the ice cream social that night. From then on, we began a friendship that continued to grow throughout college as we shared many of the same interests, ESPECIALLY in music. The one thing that would always lead to a friendly (ha) debate between the two of us was the "eastside Detroit vs. westside Detroit" arguments, and even so, I enjoyed them all. While I have millions of favorite memories with B, I think one of my favorites thus far is the birthday party in the Union. He initially planned to have birthday celebration at BW3's that night, but because it was packed, we celebrated in the basement of the Union. In place of a birthday cake, he decides to get a large box of cookies from Mrs. Fields, and as he's bringing the box over to the table, he accidentally drops it on the floor. LMAO (don't kill me for laughing B!) The night still ended up being a great night, and he had many people come out for support. I could list wayyy more memories (especially the story when he first talked to my stalker) but that would take forever. Just wanted to say I love you Branden (with an 'e') and I wish you the best in Houston. You were able to do so much for Detroit before you left, and I can't wait to hear what you'll do in Houston. You have been a great friend, always there for me in my time of need, and little do you know, I look at you as not only a friend, but a role model. I'm still coming to visit! Just make sure you have that A/C on blast cause you know I hate heat. -___-

Elena (zka BESTIE!, B3, Elener, ESimp) Simpkins- Wow, where to start? The first time we met was actually through my Bridge roomie, Amede. They came into the room together, it was a quick introduction, and that was all. Fast forward to freshman year, and Elena and I happened to be in the same all-girls dorm, Helen Newberry. I'm not sure how we officially became friends, but it was ironic since I was the one hanging with Elener, and Amede wasn't (though she was still my roommate freshman year!) As I was telling someone the other day, one of the difficult things about Elena leaving U of M, was that she was and IS a genuine friend, and that's hard to find. She's very selfless (remember sneaking me food in Fall 2007?), and she's never abandoned me for any clique, significant other, or organization/group. It's hard to choose, but some of my favorite memories with Elena are the times when we were OWT freshmen! When I say we went to ev-er-ry-thang, I mean, EV-ER-RY-THANG. Studio 4, Club Oz, Sigma parties, Alpha parties, Kappa parties, Que parties, Lambda parties, Pike parties (failed attempt), parties in the Union, Black Homecomings, parties on the Diag- we went and did everything together. Let's not forget the night we decided to "ghostride the whip." So, as grad school looms ahead, and people start advertising for upcoming events, icebreakers, and so forth, it will take everything that I have to not snatch up my phone and text her "Man, what YOU doin?" My bestie is not here to hang with me.... In any case, I shall not look at the distance as a destroyer of a 5-year friendship! I'm honored to be your Dean, soror, party buddy, but most of all, best friend. I love you and I owe you a visit too. Just make room for me!

Reflecting on Bridge going into my freshman year, and now as an Alum of U of M, I am forever grateful of the Summer Bridge Program. Yes it took away my summer in 2005, yes it forced me to go to school earlier than anticipated, and yes it took my precious, open house funds, but it gave me something more valuable instead- friends. And I can honestly say that these are friends who I've shared majority of my best memories with at U of M. From spending countless hours playing Scene-It, partying on the Diag for Vanguards, making videos of me beating up John B in hallways, to hiding in dorm rooms to celebrate my birthday with cupcakes since a certain person was on "lock-down." *cough* It frustrates me to not have documented these memories, but they will, as they always do, resurface when I least expect it.

Until then, I will cherish spending time with the people who are still here including my wonderful, caring bestie with a vocabulary that craps on Noah Webster's, Brittney Williams, the loving, always cheerful, and strong in faith Sharonda, my "down for anything" and super intelligent roomie Arkisha, the cool, funny but "proned to start fights" Jason, the "no CPT time, but I can be late" and talented Corey, my Bridge buddy/Greek cousin/Chicago traveling partner Anfernee, the Gorgeously Dynamic women of GAMMA DELTA, as well as a list of others. I love you all and thank for adding to my Michigan experience for I couldn't have made it through without you.

GO BLUE!

...You Sing a Sad Song Just to Turn it Around

Song for today: Daniel Powter- "Bad Day"

'Nuff said.

You're Never Satisfied...

Last night, I had an interesting, and shocking quite frankly, conversation with an "old flame." I asked how he was, and his response once again could be summed up in one sentence- "life sucks." A sentence he'd been giving since day one. He is an older gentlemen (just a year shy of his 30s) and basically not satisfied with where he's at in life right now. Out of respect for his privacy, I won't disclose the list of complaints that he gave, but they were things that he did not have the power to change, or he was not proactive enough in changing it. Because there is much that he wants but hasn't got, he's tried to talk to God more in hopes that it'll pay off in the end. " I mean, I pray everyday, I read my prayer book, I read the Bible, what else does God want me to do??"

Whoa.

I told him that just because he did all of those things, that didn't make him a better Christian ONLY because he wasn't doing it for the right reasons. While there is no "right" reason in particular to pray, I'm pretty sure God wouldn't appreciate someone coming before him to pray for material things ONLY. He spent a good half hour arguing that he wasn't praying for material possessions, before finally conceding to my accusations. Not before a final statement: "Well, I look at being a Christian as having a job. What's the point of doing the work if you're not gonna get paid?"




Dear readers, I could tell you where the argument went after that, but that would be pages long. Regardless, I was able to conclude from the argument that he is someone who will never be satisfied. One of those people who can have all of the riches of the world only to scoff at them.

" Aside from a job, money, and a house, what is it that you really want -------?" I asked.

"I just want to be happy."

"Well I'll pray for your happiness."

"Nah, but then I don't have anyone to share it with."

You catch my drift?

So what do I do with someone who should have been disposed from my life months ago? The correct answer would be: get rid of 'im. However, I'm having an internal conflict with ignoring someone who is crying out for help, and contemplates death as a better alternative to living.

What would you do?

God is a DJ, Life is a Dance Floor...

If you haven't caught on to the pattern (which I'm sure you have), each of my blogs are named after a song title or a song lyric. I fervently believe that life has a soundtrack, and each day features a new song and/or artist. Today's song?: Jay-Z- "So Ambitious."

Slowly but surely, the pieces to the puzzle are falling into place in my life: grad school, my first apartment with NO roommate, working, and maybe the start of something new with a certain someone. I'm satisfied with my accomplishments, but I want more. I'm always pushing myself to go above and beyond, I just need to make sure it's never to the point when I'm turning into an overachiever (again.)

For the curious, yesterday's song was Lil Wayne's "Burn this City." Only because I was extremely bored and I had a box of matches. O__O

Bad Habits

While I have a list of bad habits, there are two that I really need to change:

1. Making eye contact- When I was younger, I was shy. Not just shy, but painfully shy. So while I had no trouble making and keeping friends, it was just the whole "process" of meeting new people that was difficult. I was very quiet and I did not like to talk because I felt people would think what I said was "stupid" or I simply didn't know how to make conversation. In any case, the shyness was sadly mistakened for being mean, and for a good portion of my childhood, people called me "evil." They attributed my quietness to not caring and read-what I thought to be my normal facial expression- as me rolling eyes. I'd managed to avoid plenty of fights from girls who thought I was "grimming" (childish) them. So, to save everyone the trouble, I got into the habit of not looking people in the eyes. No one could say I looked evil or looked at them the wrong way if I didn't make eye contact at all right?

Unfortunately, that bad habit carried into my adult years. While I have enough confidence to go into an interview or a business meeting and talk to people face-to-face, I find myself in conversation with family members, old friends, etc. looking at the wall, looking at the floor or looking past them. My exes will be the first to tell you that there were many times when we'd get into arguments simply because they wanted to stare at me. "Stop looking at me," I'd say, "You make me feel as if there's something on my face."

Which leads to bad habit #2, that is, in my opinion, quite HI-larious:

2) Paranoia/Conspiracy Theorist- Too often I hear people abuse the phrase "I don't trust anyone." Yeah. And while I share those same sentiments, my lack of "trust" is somewhat taken to the extreme. I believe there is a conspiracy behind...everything. Illumanati, McDonalds, Apple, the Washington Monument, the dollar bill, the Michigan Union at my school- everything. While I don't actually believe in ALL the theories that people, I do believe there's a conspiracy behind a lot of things. Will I bother to find them? Nope.

The paranoia is not that extreme. I just can't walk home by myself without looking over my shoulder 10 times or more. Or, leave my apartment without my house being clean or my bed being spread. But that probably spills over into being a little OCD.

Gosh, where's Dr. Phil when you need him? Dr. Dre? Anyone?

You Can Easily Get Past, But That Chapter Is Done

Keeping with my goal of reading four books before the end of summer, I've began a new book called "Middlesex" by author Jeffrey Eugenides. I first read the book on one of my many trips to Borders, and fell in love with it after reading the first twenty pages. I was finally able to purchase it two days ago, and so far, it's a very engaging read (though sometimes complicated.) I could give you a synopsis of what the book is about but I haven't got that far into it. If I had to give everything in a gist, it's a story of a hermaphrodite from Detroit, Michigan.



Now for those who know me, you would make the assumption that I only chose the book due to the fact that the main character is a hermaphrodite, BUT, what made me grab the book off the shelf was that its plot was centered in Detroit and metro Detroit (specifically Grosse Pointe.) Eugenides is also the author of "The Virgin Suicides" which I've only known to be a movie. According to the always reliable Wikipedia (insert sarcasm), The Virgin Suicides is a novel that describes a community's reaction to the suicides of five, young sisters. It is also centered in Grosse Pointe, Michigan and a book that has been added to my "must reads" for the summer.

Speaking of books, I don't think there's been a time when I've ever been disappointed walking into a bookstore...wait, that's a lie. First, I'll say for the record that I don't believe in limiting yourself to one genre of books. With there being a plethora of genres- fiction, nonfiction, autobiographies, romance, self-help, horror, reference, sci-fi, western, mystery, etc.- it's crazy to read only type of book. To have a proclivity for a specific category or author is understandable, but to remain in one position in the "grand world of books" is foolishness.

Which brings me to my disappointment in my recent trips to bookstores: the "African American Literature" section. Literature. L-I-T-E-R-A-T-U-R-E. Do you know what books are under this category next to the likes of Angelou, Wright, and Ellison?

This...



Maybe this...



Or how about this?



As if black people didn't have enough negative stereotypes to deal with in the media (Antoine Dodson anyone?), we get to go into Borders to "our" section just to be slapped in the face which images of "thug life" and a "hustler's grind."

The Merriam Webster's definition for literature is as follows: "writings in prose or verse; especially : writings having excellence of form or expression and expressing ideas of permanent or universal interest." I'm sorry, but stories of how Tyquisha struggled to help her and six kids survive while her baby daddy was on lock down for drug possesion does not qualify as literature. And true, no one died and made me a book critic but I can honestly say that I've taken the time to read three or more "hood novels" to make a stand against them. Every now and then, a good one slips through the crack ("The Coldest Winter Ever" is and shall remain the best hood novel in life. Period.), but for the most part it's mindless garbage, and should have it's own section in the bookstore: "Urban Trash." "Ghetto Garbage." Maybe "Books to Use as Firewood?"

*In Antoine Dodson voice* "Now run tel' dat."