Texas Dances Community Hub

So I'm starting a Facebook page for Texas Dancers. We need a place that brings us closer together. It's a big state full of big talent. Dancer? Like the page to get dance news, audition info, or really anything dance.

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bE fABULOUS.

How I Got into SMU

For my entry into Southern Methodist University, I was asked to choose two words that described me, to explain why, and to write something that explained who I am. On of my first posts, I am mE, is my essay. These are my words.

Passionate

When I walk onto the smooth, wooden floors of the open room, my reflection staring back at me in the mirror, I can see the fiery hunger for the capacity to speak. My energy bursts beyond my kinesphere, surging through the four walls, the floor, and the ceiling. I feel a spotlight pour over my head, illuminating my spirit as I begin to move. My dancing triggers imagery, questions, spontaneity, and emotion. I want to leave others with my hunger, my longing, my passion for communication. Once I dance them, the words flow breezily through my feet and legs up into my soul and around my heart, into my hand, and onto the page. I live my life as such, pouring my very being into all that I do, incorporating every aspect as piece of my self.

Magnetic

I am not very tall—only 5’4”. People think I am tall. It’s not that think 5’4” is tall, but they say I “seem” tall. There is no question that I am a presence, a presence that can be hard to ignore. When I speak, I want people to listen. When I dance, I want people to watch. It isn’t that I wish to be seen and heard, but I want others to hear my message as I hear theirs. If I make a statement in some profound way, others tend to follow. I want to draw people in, to make them want to know more about anything and everything. There is never any doubt that I have something to say, and I revel in convincing others to want to hear it, see it, analyze it, embrace it, and respond.

3/18/09

bE fABULOUS.

Blackademia

I have started blogging for SMU's weekday paper The Daily Campus on their blog website The Daily Gaggle. My blog, entitled "Blackademia," addresses issues of race and racism in the majority white bubble at SMU, and how they project onto the rest of America.

This semester, I have chosen to base my journalistic endeavors on the arbitrary idea of race.

Why??

My boyfriend is black.

I grew up in a colorblind world, a world where race really is arbitrary. My parents, though they grew up in the midst of the racism of the 1970s, forced school integration and all, are surprisingly anti-racism.

They raised me to see people, not white people or black people or brown people, or any color of people. Just people.

So. The first time I walked around in the mall holding my boyfriend's hand, I was a bit shocked when people were more than a little unhappy about it.

The first time I ever saw The Boondocks.... That, too, was a momentous occasion.

Check out my blogs:

Welcome to Blackademia
What is the "Black Struggle?"

I also reviewed Ebony Magazine's pilot iPad App, featuring the 65th Anniversary Special Collector's Edition. It's a part of a tech blog that my Digital Journalism class is creating about news sources on the iPad.

Here's my entry:

Review of the Ebony iPad App


bE fABULOUS.

Six Weeks Out

I know it's been awhile since I've blogged, but this is something that I think needs to be said.

As a believer in communication and the voice of the people, I think that it's really important for everyone to go out and vote. As a liberal SMU student, I think I may be in the minority here in Dallas TX, but honestly, I don't care.

Regardless of your political tendencies, everyone who can has got to get out there and vote Nov. 2. These are the people who represent us as the people, so let's try and make sure that they do so accurately.

Do the right thing–go vote. If you're not registered, just go here: http://bit.ly/2Z0lsn


bE fABULOUS.

The Truth, the whole Truth, and Nothing but the Truth....

So I was coming up with a title for the last post, and I almost put, "Is it ok to LIE to get to the Truth?"

What is the Truth?

"truth" is whatever is not "false."

So is "Truth" whatever is not "False?"

Let's think for a second--what is the difference between "false" and "False?"

I would say an absolute--a universal. Now we must ask--is there such thing as an absolute "False?" Through the reasoning methods provided to us by various white men throughout the last few centuries, one might suggest that an "absolute False" is something that is "absolutely Un-True." So, we have gotten nowhere.

So we can't adopt a singular school of thought as Absolute, because there are problems with all of them. Essentially, the only thing we can argue on a humanistic level is that every culture has a problem with murder. We may define murder differently from one another, but murder is universally considered wrong, making that an absolute agreement. However, as mentioned, people disagree on what defines a murder. For some, every time a soldier kills someone, s/he commits murder. For others, killing of an entire generation of Jews is not murder, but cleansing.

So we seem to come to a dead end.

Anthropologically speaking, we cannot seem to define a universal Absolute Truth.

So------

Can a journalist say they will do anything to get to the Truth?

From what we said previously, no. Absolute Truth seems to be undefinable by existing methods of reasoning. Perhaps the phrase they are looking for is:

"I will do anything to get the facts right."

Now we have another question--what is right??


Realistically, all we can expect from the journalist is correct facts to the best of their knowledge. When it comes to right vs. wrong, it's time to look at the society and determine who will be hurt from what you report. Then you have to determine whether the public has a need, or even a right to know the information you have at your disposal.

When determining what to print/broadcast/publish, the journalist's integrity determines right from wrong.

What does that mean if journalists are nothing but deceptive liars???



bE fABULOUS.

Is it ok to LIE to get the REAL story?

So say you are a journalist.

Are you willing to lie to get the story? Does it matter how big the lie is? What about on a job application to go under cover?

Here's my thought--TALK TO THE POLICE. Let THEM do the undercover work, and be a journalist, not a detective. If you want to be a detective, then why not go ahead and be a detective? I'm sure a police station somewhere would appreciate your passion.

As an advocate for anything, your intentions lose integrity with every lie you tell and every person you deceive.

Not to mention that people already don't trust reporters. I'm not even talking about the reporters with something to hide. Readers and viewers don't trust reporters--what makes you think that your readers are going to believe your lie over the "bad guys" you're trying to expose?

Just saying.

bE fABULOUS.

I am mE

Written on March 18th, 2009.

I am Me.

I sing. I am 15.

Singing through life, I linger in the warm tones of love, family, and friendship. With vast shadows looming in front of me, pain, death, and resolution shape my song...

a song of Grief. A song of loss, pain, desperation, trial, error, tribute, love, hate... I scream as my eyes are forced open. I learn to hate. As the grips of exhaustion and terror grip my throat, I choke--sitting in Silence. Though I begin to hear a soft, tentative voice, the voice of those always there. Learning to ease into the painful chords, time heals my tune, resolving the harsh dissonance in my soul. Several voices join mine here and there, none resolving my song.

I swim. I am 16.

Swimming deeper and deeper, I am a strong swimmer. I am surrounded by those who are weak. I reach towards those beneath me, letting the darkness pull them under. When I reach the lifeless wanderers, I succumb to the stillness of the cool, apathetic water. I sink slowly, suspended among the silent screams. Surrounded by darkness, I hear a subtle splashing from above. At the sight of the light diffusing through the unending tomb of water, Thrashing, drowning, suffocating, I have run out of air. I grow tired, scared, pulling the relentless water, pushing it beneath me. I am so close... I can't reach... Splashing Hands from above grab my eager fingertips, Ripping me out from my slumber. My lungs have developed, my body is stronger, my mind more aware. I am wiser now. I race for the finish line, though my need to help others pulled me behind. I finally catch up, though I take second place this time.

I write. I am still 16.

I grow frustrated with the English language, blaming my spoken handicap on the lack of words. Jumbling the thoughts and ideas, I am incapable of compiling words together fast enough to keep up with my brain. I have already smelt, tasted, seen, heard, and felt so much. I lack the verbal ability to convey my comprehension. When I speak, I feel Stupid.

I write.

As the thoughts shoot through my mind, my hand interprets, writes, translates into philosophical gibberish. In time, thoughts turn into ideas, ideas turn into motives, and motives turn into reason. I find reason. I find life. I find what I think is my Answer. I shape a way of thinking that is my own, that is me. I am Me. For the first time since someone ruined my song, I am ME.

I dance.

Communication: the thing I want to perfect.

Communication: the hardest thing in the entire world for me to do.

ADD: the inhibitor.

ADD: my will to prove myself.

DANCING: My Medium of Communication. My cure for ADD.

My Love.

My Life.

My Words.

I DANCE. I am 17.

I realize that I am not the only one crying, laughing, angry, and satisfied when I come offstage. I see the understanding. I see the empathy I have longed for so much. I feel the hate begin to dissipate. I feel my soul ooze from my extremities, my eyes, my feet, my fingertips, my teeth, reverberating in my ears. My resounding energy fills everything to the corners of the universe. There is another voice who has matched mine.

We sing. In Perfect harmony. He takes my hand, puts a mirror in it. "You are Beautiful." He says.

People stare. In total contrast, we become yin and yang, white and black, light and dark, calming my intense vigor with his rich sturdiness. Some voices fall out, some hands loosening their grip. He is Black.

I teach. I am 18.

I know too much. I have seen too much, heard too much, felt too much. Stripped of my innocence, I shed my ignorance, accepting myself. Accepting me. He is by my side. At times I struggle, reliving painful memories. He is by my side. I teach my students how to sing, dance, speak, and Be. I show them love, affection, and guidance. Some of their own parents don't have the supportive voices to help them sing, the hands at the top of the water. It is hard to lose your innocence. Many of my kids already have.

They are 8 years old.

And I am young at 18.

Singing, my song joins his, our voices opposite and perfect.

Coaxing him into the water, he brings a float--I will never sink again.

Dancing together, he teaches me how to be free, to let my Soul guide me completely. Hip Hop sets a new tempo for my dreams.

Smiling, he takes my hand.... A ring soon will follow.

I am 19.

Shrugging, I finally forget my nightmares, and embrace them for shaping my spirit into the lush, deep, bubbly piece of happiness I have become. I am Me. I am strong. I am old for my age. I know what I know, but I want to know so much more. I want to learn as much as I can. Sometimes it feels like the only thing I know for sure is that I know nothing. But there are two things I do know--My words matter, My thoughts matter. And I have been blessed with multiple ways of expressing them, but I long to learn more.

I matter.

Why?

Because I Am, and I say so.

(And he does, too.)

bE fABULOUS.

FIRST BLOG EVER.

Soooooooooooooooooooooooooo..................

This is my first blog EVER, and I'm kind of anxious about it--I'm one of those people who says things like, "Oh my gosh. Blogging?? How LAME!!" And...... Well........ Here I am. Starting a blog.

You see, here's what I'm thinking:
I want to change the world. If I am going to do that, I'm going to need some help.

Ohhhhhh where to begin........ Ah yes. The beginning.

So I am basically an idealist who was shocked into realism, and now I have an inconceivable want to change what I dislike about reality.... Things like racism, hate, stereotypes, and ignorance. There is an insurmountable amount of ignorance in this world, and it is my personal goal to observe that what I think I know is complete fallacy. I know nothing, and neither does anyone else. However, I feel everything, and so does everyone else.

I live on that notion. What I know has become what I feel, and that is the only way I can make even a little bit of sense out of anything.

I feel that if everyone would exchange the words "I know" with "I feel," a lot of people might realize that a lot of the opinions they express are simply regurgitated out of someone else's brain.

That terrifies me.

How can anyone have an identity if all we claim ownership to is a youdentity?

Consider this:
"I know who I am."
or
"I feel who I am."

Pretty radical, huh??


bE fABULOUS.