Somewhere back in the early 90's, I was working on a temp assignment, and I pulled out a counter extension to see what the little paper sticking out of it was.  Turns out it was a full sheet of paper with a quote written on it, at that time credited to "Unknown".  At the time I first read that quote, I was a young, single mother having serious financial difficulties, and not sure if I had the right tools to be any form or fashion of even semi-decent parent (My how times have changed.  <<<shrugs>>>).  The words really resonated with me, and I found myself pulling out that counter extension to read the quote multiple times a day for the duration of that particular assignment.  As the assignment came to an end, I wanted to keep the quote with me, so I scribbled it down on a piece of paper, which I promptly lost on the way home.  But the quote was never far from my mind, and as soon as I obtained a PC, internet access and a printer at home (Thank You, Income Tax return!), I looked up the quote, printed it out, and it has remained at the forefront of my thoughts for going on 20 years now, as well as always having a prominent place on whatever desk I currently call home. To this day, I still read this quote multiple times a day, as it reminds me of the way I actually want to live my life.

Here is the quote as I first read it:

Such a small notion, that of what the original author thought comprised a life, lived fully.  What I found, many years later, was that this was part of a much longer document titled the Spiritual Laws and Concepts of Pathwork. A great deal of reading for anyone interested, but what stood out most to me was the overall reach of moving oneself to a solid place internally.  That had been an ongoing struggle for me back then, and is still a large part of my emotional and physical makeup today.  Would I continue to live the limited life of low expectations of a young, single parent with only a high school education in the inner city, or would I try to expand my options, branch out, and stop allowing other's low opinions of me dictate my own expectations for myself?

It took me a long time to completely grasp each of those concepts; putting them into practice was another huge step, but I am still making small progress each day.

It is impossible to live completely without fear, as there will always be some issue, incident or object that triggers the fear response.  Controlling how you respond to those triggers, as well as sorting out what is truly worth fearing is what makes the difference between living your life, and merely surviving. My biggest fears currently are homelessness (having already experienced it once), and the myriad number of things that could happen to my children.  A fear response would have me doing things I probably shouldn't to make sure the first would happen, and becoming overprotective to avoid the second.  Living life without fear, has for me anyway, meant knowing in the back of my mind that homelessness is a real possibility, while continually working to improve my financial situation while not jeopardizing my job or my legal status. It has meant not embracing a fear based parenting model, that allows me to teach my children about the dangers they will face in a way that is closer to "Be aware of what's going on around you", than "Be afraid of everyone that is different from you". Living in control of my fears has led to to take chances in education (multiple tries at finishing a degree), relationships (Yes, I do flirt "out of my league".  Why not? It's fun for me, and an ego boost for them.  No harm, no foul.), and career (moving from Clerical to Technology).  I've had as many successes as I've had had things crash and burn, but even with the failures, I've learned lessons I would not have learned had I not at least tried to make some change in the way I was already living.

Living without self-pity is harder than it sounds, especially if things tend to not go well as a series, rather than one at a time, spread far enough apart where you have the emotional time and energy to deal with each item as it comes up.  In my world, when it rains, it really does tend to pour.  Usually, as soon as I cut one branch off some thorny issue, another entire bush grows in it's place.  That stiff upper lip hurts when you hold it for too long, and the self-pity party group at least puts you in some sort of company, especially when you begin to feel like you are going through a lot of this alone.  A lifetime of dealing with migraines has taught me that while bottling my feelings of sadness, anger and occasional helplessness might look cool on the outside, I was paying a helluva price for it, health-wise, on the inside.  Giving myself permission to feel whatever it was I was feeling, with the caveat that I had to be prepared to put everything in perspective, and sort through what could be done, versus those issues I couldn't do anything about, saved my sanity more often than I care to admit.

I have never met anyone, in my entire life, that was not afraid of being hurt, be it physically, emotionally, spiritually, or in any other way.  I am no exception to this phenomenon of guarding certain parts of myself from those who might see my vulnerabilities as an opportunity to inflict damage for their own amusement, or the entertainment of others.  As someone who strives to live as authentically as possible, I have to live with the knowledge that there are people in this world that are only too happy to abuse anybody they consider fair game, and as such it is best to hone at least a minimal level of discernment.  The enduring lessons of a culture that devalues minority women, especially those with obviously ethnic features, has ensured that there are multiple generations of minority women that treat every interaction in life as a direct threat, viewing all through the lens of their emotional guard, always ready to protect the most delicate parts of themselves. They will survive in this life, most of us will, but if you dig down deep enough, you will realize that most of them never really get a chance to live.

Mostly, I strive to be happy.  To have that sort of internal peace that helps me realize that I've done what I can, weathered whatever storms came up, and am okay with how things are now, even if they are not perfect, or even particularly good.  That is how I define Real Happiness.  I know there are those who would focus on financial freedom as an indicator of happiness, and I don't deny that taking away money worries would free up a great deal of mental and emotional space for spiritual development, but, the steps mentioned here are all free.  Getting one's head right, as it were, can be done no matter what stage of life you're in, your financial status, or your current circumstances.  Well worth doing, I think, no matter who you are.

As I look at the plain white sheet of paper currently hanging over my desk, re-typed in the only version of the quote I could find, I am reminded of my ongoing goal.  Being present.  Living kindly, gently, and well.  And striving for real happiness.

I first learned to ride a bike at the ripe old age of 16.  Up to that point, I had been to afraid to try, as I didn't like the thought of falling off or getting scraped up or bruised.  But once my uncle had me try out one of the many bikes he kept in his yard for all of us kids to ride, showed me how to start, balance, and stop, I was hooked.  Biking lets you travel faster than walking, obviously, but you don't travel so fast that you don't have time to observe the world around you, like you do in a car.  It's being outdoors, in motion, and still being able to love nature.  It is almost the best of both worlds, if you ask bike enthusiasts.

I had thought about getting a bike for years when I finally purchased one a couple of years ago.   My enthusiasm for the purchase was renewed by going on a long bike ride with friends (on a borrowed bike) along the beach on a path that took us from the industrial southern end at Dockweiler Beach to the beautiful Ports at Marina Del Rey.  Riding a bike along the beach path is the ultimate California dream, and the warm spring day on which we completed the round trip inspired me to plan my purchase for sometime in the near future. I like walking (when it's not my ONLY mode of transportation), and being outside, but I also needed a form of non-weight bearing exercise since I had completely hosed my knees and lower back in separate incidents.  Even after I started doing research, asking friends for recommendations, and doing multiple internet searches looking for the perfect bicycle, it still took me a couple of years to purchase one.  Where money is concerned, I always at least TRY to be careful with large purchase, although I don't always succeed.  Money was part of it, but there are always other considerations.

First and foremost, where was I going to put it?  Although at the time I was still sharing a garage with a neighbor, the key was missing somewhere in our house, and I had yet to receive another key.  My daughter's bike was in the garage, and we could only get it when the neighbor went into the garage, which was inconvenient for my daughter because that meant she could only ride her bike when we got lucky enough to catch the neighbor.  I wanted to ride for exercise, which meant riding on a regular basis, not on whims.  If I was riding on a regular basis, when exactly was I going to do that?  There were some weeks when both my and the kids church activities ate whatever time I had after I left work, and weekends tend to live on busy.

Even with all of my concerns, I found my bike, the white beach cruiser above, within the price range I was looking for from a re-seller on Craigslist, made the purchase, found some strange way to cram the bike into my then small car, and brought it home.  I then spent a little more money with the bike shop a few blocks away making adjustments and repairs to the bike so that I could ride it without being in pain.  Then I sat there and stared at it for a few month, riding only occasionally.  Being a big woman, I was entirely intimidated by the thought of long street rides where people could actually, you know, SEE me.  That was a horror that had to be avoided at all costs.  No matter what your confidence level, having strange people yell rude things at you while you are trying to get healthy is... disconcerting at best, and completely demoralizing at worst.

That changed one Saturday morning when I decided that, rather than waste gas driving to a meeting that was only a few miles away, I would ride my bike there.  I would be riding early enough (and the route obscure enough) to not make me seriously noticeable, and the route I chose also took me around any heavy traffic (a particular talent in Los Angeles).  As I rode along side a small regional airport at the longest stretch of the ride, and I realized that it didn't matter what other people might think of what I looked like riding.  I was taking care of my health, at my own pace, and I got to look around and enjoy myself in the process.  It was a beautiful day outside, and I amazed the other ladies at the meeting by riding my bike there.  I rode home completely uplifted both by the meeting, and by accomplishing something I had wanted to do for quite sometime.  I came home planning longer rides, and thinking of purchasing a bike rack for my car so that my daughter and I could take our bikes to the beach, and she and I could ride on bike trails, completely undisturbed by cars, and with more than enough room for both us and walkers.  I had my ticket to ride, finally, and my ability to do so was only hampered by time and finances.

I put off the rack purchase for quite some time because life dictates that business be taken care of first.  Bills before extras, needs before wants, etc.  I would take longer rides when I could, and I allowed my son to use my bike, as he didn't have one, and it was quicker for him to get to school with it.  Our deal was that so long as he locked it up and took care of it, I had no issue with him using it.  And our deal held for six months, until he forgot to lock the bike to the railing outside my sitter's house one Friday evening, and the bike was stolen.

Earlier this year, I gave my son the money to purchase another bike for himself.  I have a car, and I didn't really need it to get around like he does. I walk around Downtown LA on my lunch breaks when I get the chance.  But it's not the same.  I honestly miss my bike.  I watch travel shows on tv, and see them taking lovely bike tours of other countries, and secretly long for my lost cruiser.  I drive along the beach, I see the bike trails, and I remember that warm spring day only a couple of years ago when I rode them, and I wish.  I wish to be back out there on two wheels, zipping along beach side, or planning a trip to see a City by bicycle.

One day, when I get caught up on bills (Song of the Single Parent!), there will be another bike.  Followed by the purchase of a bike rack so that my whole little family can go ride on the beach.  Then an actual vacation with a bicycle tour.  It'll happen.  Not immediately, as there are always other priorities, but I look at it this way.  Now not only do I have a specific goal to work towards, I have something to look forward to once I hit the goal.  Works for me.

I want you to know I saw the look of distress on your face as I closed the door of the daycare this morning.

I recognized it immediately, which is why the extra hugs and kisses before I left for work.

I used to look like that too. I was the rare child that started hating school in Kindergarten, and spent every school day of the next 13 years (K-12th grade) smiling on the outside (most of the time anyway), while inwardly counting the days until it was over.  The difference between your experience of school and mine is that up until this year, you absolutely LOVED school.  You liked doing your homework, and looked forward to challenges and writing reports.  I started noticing a subtle shift the closer we got to Christmas break, though.  Assignments would slip through the cracks, here and there.  You quit putting in the same effort you did before, and getting you to work through things went from the breeze it was to a trying experience of tears and half-hearted effort.

Any inquiries as to what had changed were met with shrugs, and nearly whispered "I don't know"s.  Up until last night, when comparing an F on a random assignment with a long list of A's and B's on tests given the same week, and I realized that the two pictures didn't mesh, and I called you on it.  I told you that we could work this one of two ways:  I could go the punitive route, and just punish you for the bad grade, or we could talk about what led up to that, and see if we could find a way to stop this from happening again.  Much as I said yesterday, I can't help you fix it if you are not honest about what's going on.  Even though, after it all came out in a low defeated voice while staring at the accumulated dust at the bottom on my dresser, I don't know if this is something that can be fixed.

At the ripe old age of ten, you have begun that trip into the realm of the girls that don't want to seem too smart, lest they not have any friends.  I had so hoped you wouldn't have to go through this.  But as I watched you develop anxiety about school (the likely source of the bathroom issues and the resulting taunting which only made everything worse), I knew at some point I would hear this one admission that I wanted you to avoid.  That I thought women and girls had left behind in the 20+ years since I left school.

I purposely chose this semi-suburban environment because I wanted you to have a different academic experience than the one I had.  Inner city schools were okay for smart girls, but a great deal of support was needed to keep girls from becoming socially isolated because the other kids weren't sure what to make of them.  I aimed to not move while you went through elementary school so that you could make, and keep, the same friends, building up a set of social skills that I never really developed while we moved from place to place.  I didn't expect that to develop into kids that knew your weaknesses, and took obscene delight in pointing them out to you at every opportunity.  I figured because you were conventionally attractive, you wouldn't catch even 1/10th the hell I caught going through school for not being attractive enough.  I didn't realize until other people started pointing it out that you have a lighter version of almost my exact same face, along with the same big, coarse just barely manageable hair that does exactly as it pleases, which is usually the one thing that you DON'T want it to do.  How well I know that story.

You are a girl that loves math and science, who currently wants to be a teacher when you grow up.  I smile and tell you that this is wonderful, and you can do anything you want to do.  Internally I fight a war between encouraging you, and fiercely wanting to protect you from the rough waters that await a girl interested in STEM fields, especially as you prepare for your final year of elementary school next year, and from there prepare to navigate the far more treacherous territory of middle school.  I worry about you losing the sweet, funny, quirky nerd that you are to the jaded, outwardly tough, bravado spouting street kid that the surrounding neighborhood seems determined to turn you into.  I am divided between being awed by, and afraid of, the fact that as small and thin as you are, you really don't take any crap from any of the kids that pick on you because they are bigger than you, mostly because I told you not to.  My own experiences with being routinely bullied left me determined that my own children would never have to put up with the cruel jokes, snide remarks, and occasional physical confrontations that I was told to "ignore, and they will leave you alone"  (the biggest lie kids are told), however, in this age of strictly enforced Zero Tolerance policies, I fear your efforts to stand up for yourself will end in a flurry of suspensions that, rather than keep you from being a victim, might get you labeled as a troublemaker.  Which, by the way, is what started happening to your brother in middle school, which was so frequent by high school, that it was one of the many contributing factors to him dropping out.  Which is what I DON'T want to happen with you.

You have many more days of school to go, my darling daughter, and I will do the best I can to teach you, guide you, and help you learn how to get through them.  I can't guarantee you I will know all the right things to say and do to encourage you, and I know that as much as I would like to, I can never shield you from  all of the negativity that will come your way.  Nor should I attempt to keep you too sheltered, as you will need to learn how to deal with less than ideal people and situations.  But know that I do love you, and I am always willing to try to do whatever I can to make your journey a bit smoother (short of doing everything FOR you, but you knew that already), or at the very least, help you make sense of whatever is going on around you.  I think I can do that much.

I hope this helps.

This being the final week of Black History Month, I couldn't let the entire month go by without a Black History post.

I remember Black History Month growing up in the inner city schools I attended.  While there was a great deal of attention paid to the same three to five figures most influential in Black History (Tubman, Parks, King, et al.), we were also encouraged to look up other African Americans and report on them.  The thinking back then, especially as we entered middle and high school, was that if we could find a role model in the field that we eventually wanted to work in, we might be more encouraged to stick with it.  Then, as now, most of the popular media attention was focused on African Americans in sports and entertainment, but we were told to dig deeper.  We were told to look into Politics, Science, Medicine, Education, Literature, literally almost anything but sports and entertainment.  Self images were being formed, and every adult knew it.  If we were going to pick role models outside of our parents (which happens as we try to build our separate identities), then our parents wanted to make sure that we were focused on the qualities that would eventually shape us into the type of productive, progressive human beings they knew we were capable of being rather than the shallow caricatures the media often portrayed us as.

In 1983, new wave group Oingo Boingo posed the question "Who Do You Want To Be Today?", then proceeded to ask if we wanted to be just like someone on tv.  For African American youth and young adults, this was a loaded question.  If television defined and reinforced our roles, then we were expected to aspire to little more than the thin visions of ourselves that were permitted to be shown in popular media.  Until Bill Cosby brought the vision of a successful, intact, middle class family headed by a physician and an attorney to American prime time in the mid-80's, we were often shown as broken families, loud clowns, or stoic sidekicks, with very few exceptions. This was at the dawn of the music video area, and the beginning of the definition of our lives and roles by the portrayals of Black men and women, and their relationships in these musical shorts.  During this time, we were also introduced to the excesses of the hip-hop genre, and although not all of the artists preached materialism as pseudo religion, those were the artists that came to dominate the airwaves.  We were assailed at all times by the tales of the extraordinary feats, and failures, of superstar athletes.

So who did we want to be?  For 28 days each year we were asked to expand our definitions of who we could be, by turning our focus away from the media driven definition of what success should look like for us, and based on our own research, begin to craft what we wanted our futures to look like.  There were, and there always will be, those who aspire to sports and entertainment.  For quite a few of our young men, and some young women, sports were just the ticket needed to pay for their college educations.  Educations that produced doctors, lawyers, teachers, accountants and entrepreneurs.  Educations that were not wasted, because due to a partnership between home and the classroom, youth were given something to strive towards by first being made to look back.  Somewhere, in our shared history, was someone that we could relate to, whose career, or life, was something we would want to emulate.

For me, Black History Month has always amounted to finding the answers to three questions: Where have we been?  Where are we now?  Where are we want to go?  These questions were the basis of our study of Black History many years ago, and sadly are being overlooked today in our hurry for the next headline, the next hero, and sadly for African Americans, the next heartbreak or humiliation.  But if we continue to tell the old stories to the next generation, not just the safe, familiar narratives, but those diverse voices that tell every side of the African American story, maybe they will get something new out the stories.  We never know who we are inspiring when we inform our youth that there is more to our history than the snippet that is shown to them in the media.  Because if we don't give them the full picture of the possibilities available to them, how are we going to expect them to decide, with any real clarity, who they want to be?

Sometimes I think the bravest thing you can do is leave the past in the past, and move on into the future.

When you think of it that way, every New Years Eve is a huge step into a brave new world.  Not the tightly controlled, sterilized world of Aldous Huxley's novel, but a world of possibilities of your own making and choosing.  You now have 365 days to figure out what you want to do with them.  The key thing here, is figuring out what YOU want to do.  This is not the time to write someone else's goals into your life plans.

I had spent my entire life wanting to be a writer.  After years of fear of failure stopping me from pursuing it, I made a promise to myself last December 31st, that starting on January 1st, I would make some effort, at some point during the year, to get myself back into it.  Granted it took me until August to start taking even baby steps, but I finally got it done. This blog, and several other projects, are a result of that.

Whatever it is for you, it can be done.  What means the most to you, and what do you want to do with it?  These are the questions that change lives, and in some cases, change the world.  For some it could mean a commitment to getting their financial house in order.  That could mean anything from writing letters to settle debt, to committing small amounts to savings each paycheck, to clearing up a credit report, to maybe even searching for a better job.  The point is to take any small step that allows you to move forward.

The beginning of a new year is a signal to move forward.  You can't change anything about the year that has passed, but upon reflection, you will always see something that you feel that you could have done differently.  Now is the time to make that change.  However small or large, this change could be the very thing that you needed to do for yourself in order to progress toward your goal.  Don't think an inch is progress?  Ask a turtle.

Tomorrow is the first day of a new year.  You have 365 chances to make your life into the life you want.  Get to it!

It happened in the middle of a very long day, a little over 20 years ago.

I was 19, all ideals and bluster and lofty opinion.  She was also 19, with an infant son, living at home, attending school and looking for work.  We had spent the better part of the day on the job search, and had observed some other girls with their children while we were out applying for jobs at a nearby mall.  They were hard not to notice, as they weren't wearing much, their children seemed oddly overdressed, and their conversations could be heard from 20 feet away.  We said little at the time, just observed them quickly and looked away, so as not to be noticed, noticing them.  Back at her house later that afternoon, the discussion turned to the girls at the mall, and others like them.

I remember launching into a tirade about how I wouldn't have allowed myself to be caught having a child with a man who wasn't going to be around, and how I would never stoop to being on welfare, and how I would conduct myself in public if my child were acting out, and all of the kinds of things you say when you are 19, have no children and in all honesty, really do think you know everything.

I remember her sitting quietly through my ranting, then fixing me with a steady look.  


"Well that's good for you, but everybody ain't you."

I stopped talking (rare for me), and had to think about that.  What made me think that I knew so much that what was good for me had to be good for everybody?  Did I really have all the answers, or was I trying to separate myself from a situation I could have easily been in?  Or was there something deeper at play?

I am now 23 years and two children removed from that warm Fall day.  Over the years, I have had to remind myself of that statement from time to time, as I found myself getting all judgy about some person or situation.  I was reminded of this most recently when a controversy erupted over a Facebook photo posted by a mother of three who is also a fitness trainer.  It is a photo of the woman with her three children, all one year apart, in a revealing workout outfit, with a caption above her hear which reads "What's your excuse?"   According to the woman in the photo, it was meant to be motivational.  The picture didn't bother me, but the caption stood out, as it was obviously meant to.  At the time, I couldn't figure out what bothered me so much about the statement.  A week or so later, it finally occurred to me.

"Everybody ain't you."

There is nothing positive or motivational about suggesting that someone is making excuses.  It is an accusatory phrase that we use with children when chores or homework isn't done, or they have gotten into trouble they can't possibly explain.  We probably shouldn't even use it then.  But looking at the comments section of many news stories about the post, some people see it as motivating people either to prove her wrong, or to do whatever they need to do to look like her.  Then again, the comments section of newspaper articles can be a sycophantic minefield of their own, especially when issues specific to women and body image are covered, but I digress...

As a society, we have developed a deep need to seek fault in others.  If we can find a reason to look down on someone else, then maybe our faults aren't so bad.  I mean you might be a pathological liar, cheater, terrible with money, etc, but at least you are not "______". (fill in the blank) Then, if we can hide our snarky criticism underneath a cloud of "concern" for the other person, we can even manage to make ourselves feel slightly better about the fact that we have just passed unfair judgement on someone.  Telling someone something "for their own good", usually never is, and is only stated to make the teller feel better about themselves for having said it.  And thanks to the anonymity of the internet, being nasty and judgmental is easier, and more readily spread across a wider spectrum of forums.

What would our world be like if we shifted our focus from ourselves to others?  If instead of holding ourselves up as examples of what others should aspire to, we actually bothered to speak with (and actually LISTEN to!)  them to understand and address their challenges.  If rather than expecting people to get to where we are, and quickly, we would meet them where they are, then bring them up to where they would like to be, at THEIR pace, not ours.  If we could move, as Robert Fulghum once stated from "Look at ME" to "I am seeing YOU".


What if instead of judging people using ourselves as a yardstick, we actually bothered to give them the benefit of the doubt that there might be more to their story than we know?  What if we actually thought of people as people, not examples of what could possibly be wrong about ourselves?  What if we saw people as individuals, rather than manifestations of our own insecurities?  Would we be less judgmental then?

What if.....

What if.....

On October 8, 1992, at 8:04am, I gave birth to an 8lb., 4oz. baby boy.  Other than immediately wondering if 8 was going to be your lucky number, I had no thought other than "How on Earth am I supposed to raise this tiny little person into an adult?"  Twenty-one years, and many bumps, bruises and odd side trips later, I think I have finally come up with a hard list of things that I think are important as you move forward into the next part of your life.

1. Keep some form of spiritual grounding in your life.  I started this process by bringing you to church, and whether or not you continue, I hope you remain spiritually centered.  A foundation of faith, not religion, can bring a type of inner peace and strength that nothing can replace. Cultivate this.

2. Education is the gift that keeps on giving, and the one thing, once earned, that no one can ever take away.  Complete the concrete steps you need to move on with your goals, and never stop learning.  There is always something new to learn.

3. Ask for help when you need it.  The only people that will think less of you for asking are the people that already thought less of you to begin with.  Those are people you need to avoid if at all possible.  Conversely...

4.   If you can do it yourself, do it!  Self-reliance is not a dirty word.  The trick is in knowing when to do it yourself, and when to ask for help.

5. Surround yourself with people who love you and value you for who you are, not what you are, or what you can do for them.  As you work towards personal and professional successes, many more people will enter your life.    It is my hope that you will develop Discernment to know which relationships to nurture, and which people to allow to walk away.

6. Change is inevitable.  Never fear change.  Stay flexible, especially on the job.  This will come in handy more often than you realize.

7.  Feeling fear is normal.  Wallowing in it, or allowing it to dictate your choices in life is limiting.  Tempting as it is to not do things based on fear of the unknown, taking calculated risks (where you measure the possible outcomes against the size of the risk you are taking), might actually be some of the best decisions you ever make.

8. Knowledge is easy to obtain; Wisdom is not.  You will gain both as you get older: Knowledge through study, application and practice; Wisdom through a painful teacher called Experience.  The only people that don't gain Wisdom are people that don't want to.  On that same note...

9.  Proper money management is critical.  I didn't learn about what credit really meant until after I turned 30, and I have paid dearly for that lack of knowledge.  It is crucial that you realize there are a lot of little ways to stumble, and seriously damage your financial future. Nothing to fear, but a few things to know in order to have secure finances.

10. Failure is not the end.  Look at setbacks as the opportunity to reassess your goals and methods.  Then you can either try again from another angle, or go on to your next goal.  The point is always to keep moving forward, even if only an inch at a time.

11. Working hard and working smart are two different things.  Both are required to have a happy and successful life, and you will learn when to do each.

12. There are worse things than being alone.  This goes for friendships and relationships.  This also goes along with #5 above.  Red flags are exactly that:  an internal warning that something is not right, and from there you can make the choice to either explore it further, or leave it be.  But to be in negative relationship with people that either don't really like you, or are envious of you, or are unnecessarily and overtly competitive with you is emotionally draining.  In these cases, it is better to be alone than to wish you were.

13.  Kindness and decency are the meat and potatoes.  Intelligence is gravy.  Pretty is the dessert.  If she respects herself, and treats you and everyone else around her with respect, courtesy and kindness, she's a keeper.  If she is smart about the things that count (her strengths hopefully complement your weaknesses, and vice versa), that is an incredible bonus.  If she's also pretty, you hit the jackpot!

14.  Do pay attention to the world around you.  There is always a lot going on in the world.  Know enough about the world outside of your bubble of friends and interests to be able to speak intelligently about at least a few other subjects.  Notice when people are hurting or in need, and learn to be there for them.  Also notice when people want to be left alone, and respect their wishes.  The practice of empathy with the condition and circumstances of others will lead you to a better understanding of the world you live in.

15. Take care of yourself, too.  You already know that eating right (all things in moderation) and exercise are important for physical and mental health.  Take little time outs for your emotional health as well.  Spend a little time alone.  Unplug.  Listen to soothing music.  Read a good book.  I guarantee you will find yourself refreshed by the downtime.

Above all, know that I love you, and am truly looking forward to seeing the man you are becoming.