And every year, I pull myself and a week’s worth of my belongings together and I make the trip. Since I am driving, it is pertinent that I am packed and ready to go the night before. I do all of this and I usually forget one or two small items, but nothing that would really harm my visit because I was reluctant in bringing them along. This year, I am more excited than years past because there are more babies added to my family and among my friends. My uncle has a new baby girl and I am more than ecstatic to meet, greet, and shower her with kisses. My close friend (of 13 years) has twin girls and this trip will make my second visit with them. They will be one the beginning of next year and I seriously feel as if I am missing out on the vital happenings in their lives. But, I will make the best of this Christmas trip, I assure you that.

The drive home is what I would call a boring yet captivating thing. It is often boring because I feel as though it is too long of a drive. I find it captivating because there is so much to see. I am never alone on the road, even when I have managed to make it out of my apartment before the sun rises; several hundred people have this same idea so they crowd the highways with me as we trek along to our respective destinations. I fill my CD visor with all of my favorite artists so that I may have some inspirational and uplifting music to keep me afloat. If you are driving down the highway along-side of me, you are sure to see me bumping my entire body (so it seems) to the sounds of Common, Les Nubians, Erykah Badu, Talib Kweli, Sade, Jill Scott, Earth Wind, & Fire, and many more. Constant music makes my traveling adventure seem less of a bore. With the changing of each CD, hours pass and before you know it I arrive to my destination tired, sleepy, and ready to locate the nearest bathroom.

This year, I have made it a point to stay with my father, stepmother, and baby sister. I have also stated to one of my close friends (the mother of the twins mentioned above) that I will spend a night at her place. I have also given word to my Godmother that she and my God-sister will definitely see me for more than two hours which means that I may have to spend a night with them as well. This is how my visits home usually end up. I act as a piece of fruit in which those close to me are issued slices of my sweetness to satisfy and sustain them. I find myself running around like a chicken with my head cut off and instead of vacating, I come back to North Carolina feeling more exhausted than the day I left. But, with all of my planning, visits to nearly all of my family members, and splitting my time up with each of them by resting at their homes on designated nights, I would not trade the experience. The time I get with each person no matter how little it is moves me in a way that is indescribable. When I left Georgia, I knew that it was the one thing I wanted to do since graduating high school. When I return each time, I am reminded why I made this choice, but seeing my family, my friends, and sharing openly the love we have for each other is seriously icing on the cake.

If you will be heading home for the holidays whether it is by train, plane, car, or any other method of transportation, it is my wish that you make it home and back safely. I also offer you my sincere understanding for those of you who will have to endure a severe storm within your family before the calm comes along (we have all had holidays like these). But most importantly, I hope each of you enjoy being with your family, friends, and spending your time catching up with all things old, new, or in between. Happy Holidays Everyone! Peace~

As I waited in line the Saturday before Election Day for early voting here in my area of North Carolina, I realized that I was taking part in history in the making. The possibility of the next President of these United States of America being an African American sauntered through my mind and my heart raced with excitement. I could not wait to be guided to my voting station, cast my ballot, and leave knowing that I participated in an event that my ancestors fought and died for. Amongst the crowd were my elders, my peers, and people of all races, ethnicities, and cultures. I could not help but be amazed as I placed one foot before the other in line to move forward. After I voted, I wondered, “How will this end? What is really going to happen?” Of course the obvious consensus between me, myself, and I was a win for Barack Obama. I never dreamed that the win would come in the form of a landslide with President-Elect Barack Obama sailing past Senator John McCain. Not only did I believe he was the better candidate for the job, millions of others believed the same.

As CNN projected each state that Barack took and his gain of the Electoral College votes, I felt my body become weak. I was, light-headed, happy, and overwhelmed with joy all at once. I could not stay up for the duration, but before I fell asleep, the numbers were well within Barack’s favor. I knew ahead of time that a win was more than possible and would be definite. My eyes were not closed for more than fifteen minutes and the calls came pouring in. My cell phone lit up with text messages from family members and friends just as relieved and as happy as I. It all seemed surreal, like a dream that had slapped me in the face with its coming true. What I was not prepared for was the day after the Election.

I work in a somewhat small, private medical practice and some of my coworkers did not share the happiness that I had beaming from my very being. A few negative comments were made, such as; “You do realize that all of these foreigners finally have a pawn in place to do their dirty work. We’re going to get bombarded with terrorist attacks left and right.” These very people still questioned Barack Obama’s background. I shook my head, amazed at some of the idiocy being displayed and kept up the pace in doing my work. I am not surprised by these statements, not one bit. I was born and raised in the South, but I cannot wrap my mind around some of the things I have observed and had the opportunity to happen upon while eavesdropping.

We reside in a nation in which people still attach major stereotypes and their beliefs to any person of color. Folks actually think that President-Elect Obama is going to take on his new role upon the appropriate time at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave and host house parties catered with fried chicken, collard greens, and chitterlings. They believe he will offer cook-outs and barbecues on the front lawn, inviting the entire block and the surrounding neighborhoods for a grand, old time. I do not have to tell you about the negative posters, tee shirts, and prints available online; all you have to do is Google, you will see exactly what I am referencing. We are living in a new era; a time in which young, African American boys can aspire to be the next President of the United States because this nation helped to make it true. We are living in an era in which the people’s voices were heard about a candidate who upheld his presence, has an actual plan that is plausible, and has displayed so much class throughout this entire process.

Improving our nation’s status does not begin and end with President-Elect Barack Obama. We as a people, as a nation, and as thinkers who yearn for a better outcome must do our part. Your thoughts, questions, and concerns are all top priorities to our next president. If you do not believe me, you can check out his website devoted to change for yourself. When making your suggestions, please keep in mind that our next president is not a miracle worker. Please maintain that he said he would do all that he could to help get this nation back in order, but we must display and offer patience. If your one suggestion is to finally ask about reparations because we will have an African American acting as the Commander in Chief, and you were not there for one catastrophic event, then save your request. In my humble opinion, no amount of money will be proper compensation for what our ancestors had to endure. Your “inherited” 40 acres and a mule is nowhere on his list of actions, I assure you this. Instead, voice your opinion about things that you know needs to be addressed. This is our nation, America. He is our next President. We’ve hoped for so long and now, hope is smiling down on us. And for those of you wondering, no, we’re not going to paint the White House black.

I will leave you with one of my favorite quotes from President-Elect Barack Obama himself:

“Change will not come if we wait for some other person or some other time. We are the ones we’ve been waiting for. We are the change that we seek.”

Are you truly ready for change? I know I am.

(Photo Credit: Getty Images)

Could it be age? Could it be that I am unsatisfied with my current status? Could it be my overactive mind working overtime? Perhaps each of these questions fit perfectly into my circle of life. I have often told myself that the worst thing I can do is fail. Therefore, I implement actions to keep this from happening, yet there is a slight feeling of slacking or fear that peeks over my mountainous mind and haunts me to no end. I want so much out of life, but I do not want to die trying to obtain it; so the task is to find a happy medium. This is where I find myself stumbling. I hope I am not alone in expressing these feelings; in a sense, there is an internal clock constantly ticking and I feel like I have to race it before the big hand hits ’12. Then, there’s that other part of me that says, “Slow down Tre, you have longer than you think.” I have discussed several of these feelings before in recent articles, but I want to go a bit further on this one.

When should one realize that their body cannot keep up with their mind? At this point in my life, I feel drained and I am only twenty-eight years old. I would like to believe that I would be obliged to add another twenty-eight and “then some” years onto my life, so wouldn’t it be safe to assume that I should take it easy? If you remember my August article, you will remember me stating, “I do change when needed and wanted, but my daily adventures are the same as each week passes. It is as if my mind and body are synchronized and have to complete these happenings before I can truly rest at the end of a workday.” Well, all of this is still certain, yet it has been “one upped” somehow and I have no idea why I feel the need to push harder.

Therefore, I feel that my mind and body are not as synchronized as they once were. Everything is coming together, the pace in which I was moving before seemed appropriate. So why am I going into “push harder” mode? Perhaps it could be the act of finally accomplishing more than my parents did before me (which was and is their wish), or feeling inadequate when compared to my closest friends. Whichever the culprit, I must find it, conquer it and move forward.

I usually add snippets of advice, helpful links, and uplifting quotes into most of the articles, but I am taking this further. Please, share your thoughts on why you believe I am pushing myself harder than before. Discuss a few steps with me that have worked for you in the past and still ring true. Give me your knowledge and in-depth thoughts on slowing down my mind and moving towards a smoother pace. You are more than welcome to recommend a book or two that you believe relate to this very topic. I assure you; I love a good batch of advice and will utilize it as much as possible. I would even venture and say that this current dilemma could be my present bag and it definitely needs unpacking.

My name is Tre L. Loadholt and I am a workaholic.

If you are one to harbor hate, then you are probably bound for wallowing in your own self-pity which will ultimately solve nothing. How do we let go of that which bends us but not breaks us? If your current bag is trying to get over a recent breakup, Maryam Dimauro has a list of five tips that are sure to help you through. The first step is allotting time for you to heal and accept that the relationship is definitely over. The last step advises you to learn to smile and find other hobbies or activities that will occupy your time. The steps in between could be considered the “meat” of this advice and can probably help you during your course of healing.

We all grieve in our own ways and we should be allowed to do so. But, if your bag is holding on to the death of a loved one and not providing a chance for you to “live,” then unpacking truly needs to take place. I considered myself pretty much done for after the death of my great-grandmother and to add to that pain, my maternal grandmother died three years after her. I felt lost and out of place in this world, but I knew the two of them would have wanted me to continue on with my life at some point. The death of a loved one can be a powerful blow to our hearts, minds, and souls. Scott Mayes offers his advice in a list of steps that may help you while coping with the death of a loved one.

In my Death and Dying class while I was an undergrad studying Psychology, my professor for this course urged us to write about the most important person in our lives and reveal how we would probably cope with their loss. She also instructed us to interview them and share their life’s story with the class. I would have to say that this exercise increased my awareness of life and gave me the opportunity to learn that “death and dying” must take place in order for new life to arrive. Grieving is a somber occurrence and there is no telling how long it will last. But, if you can will yourself out of a funk that you may feel yourself sinking into due to the loss of a loved one, then you are one step closer to healing and bag-less (in my opinion).

It is easier said than done to just throw your hands up with a certain situation that you think will continue to linger on even after a resolution has been found for said situation. But, when you have acquired that moment of peace from not having to deal with the constant agony of carrying a figurative bag full of woes along with you; I am here to tell you, this is pure heaven. The hard part is not unpacking, it is finding out what your “bag” is. We have so many things that take up our time, our thoughts, and our energy. Pin-pointing the stressor (s) or cause (s) will take some practice, but once you have found it, you can utilize the tools you have learned reading this article to extinguish it. Considering our life’s schedules; be it work, school, hobbies, or a present hustle, we have far too much weight on our shoulders to continue to carry and unwanted bag with us. Let it go, unpack. I guarantee you life will not seem like such a struggle when you finally do this.

In my younger years, I rarely focused on my flaws. I took what others said to me or thought of me as a means of jealousy and treated it exactly like that. There was one thing that could be labeled as a major insecurity and that was my teeth. I was a lover of chocolate and candy (but which child truly wasn’t back in the early to late 80′s?) and therefore had rotten teeth up until my baby teeth fell out to make room for the permanent teeth. In numerous photos from my childhood, one can find me smiling wide enough to be the Grinch who Stole Christmas’s daughter, but my mouth was always closed. I did not want anyone to see my teeth in the condition that they were in, so I covered them up as much and as often as I could. Meaning, when someone said something very funny, I developed a habit of laughing, but covering my mouth while doing so, and I spoke to others outside of my family with my mouth nearly closed. These habits followed me until my early teens and one day, I studied myself in the mirror while I was smiling and found that I had one of the most infectious smiles I had ever seen. I have been told that when I smile, I make others smile as well, and that is a wondrous feeling. It took a single day for me to realize that the one thing I sheltered for years actually made others happy. Since then, I have been smiling to no end. In every photograph, I am flashing my teeth and I truly love doing so.

The images that most of us see on television of the “perfect” woman or “perfect” man are impossible to reach or achieve. These are made up models from feeble minds that have nothing better to do than to issue out the bylaws of what a woman or man is supposed to look like. We cannot all look like Halle Berry, Claudia Schiffer, Patrick Dempsey, or Taye Diggs. If we did, I am telling you here and now, I would not want to be apart of that world. The one thing I am dealing with that I would consider an imperfection is acne. At the age of twenty-eight, one would think I would not have to even type this phrase. But unlike the people mentioned above, I do not have flawless skin, and I have tried every high-priced or low maintenance product out there to be rid of it. Yet, it still remains. It is the one thing that causes me to feel insecure when going out with others or showing my face in public. But, when I mention how I feel about my blemishes to those in my circle, I am told statements such as, “your acne is not as bad as you think,” “I’ve seen worse cases of acne, Tremaine,” and “I really would not worry about it.” And get this, (yes, you’ve guessed it) those who say these phrases have flawless skin; no visible sight of one blemish graces their faces. So, what have I done? I have given my skin a break from using all of the chemically doused products dermatologists and close peers recommend. I have resorted to washing my face in the morning with a warm cloth and doing only that. The results are slowly approaching, but I can live with it if it means clearer skin in my future.

Learning to live with your imperfections is something only you can do. If you have one thing or several things you feel keep your confidence level from rising, you must confront it, embrace it, and if you feel the need to, change it. But, there are some flaws we cannot change no matter how much we would like to. Undergoing surgery for what you think is a big and out of place nose, will only make room for something else you find imperfect after the change to your nose has been made. Once this begins, you will enter a cyclical situation and altering your appearance will be your main goal. I do not wish this on anyone. It is my hope that you take what others believe are your imperfections and turn them into things that can be glorified just as I did with my smile. It is also my hope that you realize you are a gift from God and that you will always be the greatest present you can receive. Learn to live with your imperfections; learn to love them as well. And ultimately, you will live to love you unconditionally. Peace~

For example: about two years ago, I wanted to lose thirteen to fifteen pounds. I implemented a plan to work out which included walking, jumping rope, running up and down the stairs, and slacking up on the amount of unhealthy, fatty foods I was eating. At the end of a three week period, I noticed my jeans were less snug, my dress slacks had a little more room in them, and my shirts did not cut off major circulation to my breasts. After doing that particular regimen for about a month or so, I lost the thirteen pounds I wanted to lose and I maintained that loss until a year later. I fell back into the trap, but nevermore. I am back to that weight and I have it in my mind to keep the weight gain or loss to a three to five pounds maximum. What do I gain ultimately in doing this? I get to fit into some clothes I have had in the back of my closet for years, feel better about my personal presentation, and maintain my health. To me, nothing beats this sort of happiness and this comes from meeting a specific goal.

For other things, it can be more difficult; I will not lie to you; life is like that sometimes. It truly depends on your character as a person and what you are used to experiencing. If you know you are not going to go into work forty-five minutes early and stay an hour later each day to gain some overtime and pay off some unwanted bills, then I would not advise you to start. If you have a project that is due in two weeks and you know you are a chronic procrastinator, it is probably certain that you will just wait until two days before the project is due to begin, build, and finish said project. But, there has to be some one thing that you focus on and constantly remind yourself of it that is linked to reaching that goal. Example: If you finish the project a week in advance, you will be able to focus on other work that has probably been neglected as well or relax with an entire week to spare without having that project stationed on your back like a heavy monkey. Finish the project early = free time or “me (you)-time”. At least, that is how I would see the situation.

I wanted to do something different for this article. Below are several motivational quotes. Perhaps, you will pull something from one or some of them to give you that needed *push* you may have been looking for:

Take these quotes with you. They may help when you need more than a little boost one morning or an extra shove in the afternoon. I would also recommend practicing discipline where you *know* you lack it most. Set specific goals for yourself, focus on what you will gain if that goal is met, and reward yourself after meeting the goal has been achieved. I guarantee you, you will notice a change in your step, your confidence level, and your overall view of self once you learn how to stay motivated and reach your goals. Good luck!

I started out as a bagger for this store, then “moved up” to cashier. I was often placed on the Express Check-Out because well, I was a bit speedy in the way I greeted the customers, scanned the items, and checked out each of the patrons. I probably worked regular check-out all of two to three times. While I was there, I did save enough money to prepare for college that Fall and purchase some of the items I would need to jump head first into my higher education. My time spent there was not long-lived by any means. I worked for one summer then handed in my walking papers. One thing that stands out to this day was this one lady who came to my line and asked to change out a twenty dollar bill. Get this, she asked me for 3 five dollar bills and 2 tens. Yes, she was trying to swindle me right there on the sly, made the request swiftly with her words too. But, I was cool, I retorted, “Ma’am, I’m sorry, did you say 3 fives and 2 tens for this twenty dollar bill?” She looked at me all shifty-eyed and responded, “Yeah, that’s what I said.” I giggled to myself, handed her 2 five dollars bills and 1 ten dollar bill and wished her a good afternoon. That was the first and only time someone tried to acquire extra money out of me as direct as she did. I shook my head as she recounted her change, looked at me (like she *was* going to do something, but thought about it twice), then sucked her teeth, and waddled out of the store’s doors never to be seen on my shift again; at least, not by me.

My next experience in retail would find me there for two years. I started out as a cashier for this clothing store and caught on so quickly. I was asked to be a Customer Service Cashier no more than three months later. I actually liked working for this particular store. The people were friendly, my coworkers were pleasant, and management actually cared about their jobs and the employees. The one thing I totally despised about working there was cleaning the fitting rooms. MY GOODNESS! I never knew people could be so nasty. Women, if you must use the bathroom, please find a facility first before entering the fitting rooms! I am sure the employees on deck are not trying to clean up your bodily fluids after you, nor do they want to. And, let us not even delve into bringing a buggy full of clothing into the fitting room with you when the sign on the door near the entrance clearly states, “Please No Shopping Carts Pass This Point.” Every other night, I was retrieving a buggy full of clothes, picking up something that should have been disposed of in a restroom facility, or wiping down the seats|benches inside the fitting rooms thoroughly for reasons better left unmentioned. I transferred from this store to the store in the city in which I was attending college and the customers there were even worse when it came to cleanliness.

I have never seen so many people pick at an article of clothing, then throw it atop the rack like it was not hanging before they slovenly removed it from its appropriate area. Many nights, my coworkers and I found ourselves pretty much rearranging the entire store because nothing was where it was when the store opened. Patrons we were used to seeing on a daily basis would come in to see which “sale” was on for that day, walk around the store, try on several items, put them back in departments that seriously did not link up to the item at all (i.e. throw a bathing suit on a men’s sale’s rack), then walk out without *purchasing* a thing. The fitting rooms in this store were ten times worse than the fitting rooms in my hometown’s store. I cringed every time I had to clean them, and it was always the ladies’ fitting room that would be the nastiest. Men simply tried on their articles of clothing, kept the few they liked, and left the others in the fitting room. No big deal, right? Right. All I had to do was collect the clothes they did not care for, refold or hang them, sweep the fitting room, and make sure each room was cleaned thoroughly. Not hard at all. But the ladies’ fitting rooms? When I type that I would not have let any of my closest friends enter this place unless we just opened, I am telling you the God’s honest. This place was like removing hair from a brush, the disorder was never-ending. It did not matter that we had people working in shifts to keep the fitting rooms clean, the more women that entered those doors, the nastier it became. At the end of the night, I was glad to be punching out for the end to a disgruntling day.

The last clothing store I worked for offered me an Assistant Manager position to start, I accepted. The job delivered more money, but added more stress to my daily life. Working for this place, I dealt with it all. From assisting customers with refunds, lay-a-ways, exchanges, and etc; I also checked them out when I needed to, maintained the sales’ floor, and kept my department in tact. We had a lot of people who tried to steal and after my first few months of working there, I became very familiar with them by face and name. It was my or the Store Manager’s duty to keep watchful eyes on each of them as they walked up and down the aisles. Often, these same customers would be the few who let their children run about in the store unattended. Not only did they forget their children existed while they *shopped* they would hear their children causing a ruckus in the front of the store (in the toy section) and would not utter two words of discipline to them.

My mid-afternoon mantra usually began with, “Dear Lord, this was not in the fine print of my application, why me?” then I would huff out two sighs and continue on with my day. There were signs all around the toy section that read, “Parents, Please Do Not Leave Children Unattended In The Toy Area. Thank You. -Management.” Do you think these young ladies cared? No, they flaunted about the store in their new outfits picked up from God knows where and paid their children no mind. I acted as Assistant Manager, baby-sitter, thief –spy, and monetary transactions handler. Needless to say, $7.00 an hour was not enough. Thusly, I left this store as well after eight months of cleaning up behind grown folks, monitoring children who did not belong to me, and interning for espionage of thievery.

I typed all of this to say, THANK GOD, I do not have to deal with working in retail anymore. Those jobs are apart of a past that I do not wish to experience again if I can manage to do so. I applaud you who still have to deal with trifling customers around the holidays, noisy and disruptive children, and thieves. If you love your job, I mean truly love working in retail, I applaud you even more. It takes a special kind of person to deal with the daily goings on of a retail store. I have been there and done that, I do not wish to do it anymore.

The one question that always crossed my mind regarding single parenthood is: “What would you say has been the hardest part in being a single parent?” A former co-worker and friend of mine (Tonya G, mother to a 17-year old young man) answered this question to a degree that I believe most single parents can truly attest to, stating, “Trying to keep all financial difficulties and problems away from him so that he doesn’t have to worry about grown up problems. I try my best to shelter those things from him so that he can enjoy being a child as long as he can. I can no longer call him a child let me correct myself, young man.” The power in her words alone describes just how focused she is in not so much sheltering her son from the major monetary issues (if any ever occur), but maintaining a financially stress-free environment for him. She has carried all of the weight on her shoulders just to allow her son the freedoms of the teenage world (after all, being a teenager is stressful enough).

Another question, I have sparred with in my mind is, “Who (if any) was there to help you when you truly needed it?” Heather S (mother to a 13-year old boy) states that, “God, family, and friends” have been there for her. Some of us may find this ordinary; one would think that your family and friends would love to help, would truly be honored to but, sometimes this is not the case. Heather is blessed because she has had a support system to assist her whenever necessary while raising her son, yet this does not take away from her efforts. It merely indicates that although the struggle was hers, she was not truly alone in the process. This particular happening cannot be said for some other single parents. There are men and women among us who have to search for after hour baby sitters because their second (and often part-time) job requires them there at a certain time, and so does each month’s rent. For them, the decision is a lose-lose situation. They lose out on the time that could be spent watching their child or children blossom right before their eyes, but if they do not take this route, several ends may not be met. A Dog-Eat-Dog World? No, more like A Dog-Barely-Getting-Fed World.

The United States Census Bureau (http://tinyurl.com/6hwfxa) exclaims that the average household in the year 2006 was made up of 2.57 people, which is a decrease by 0.57 compared to the year 1970. As each year passes, single parent homes are becoming more prominent in the U.S. than they were in the early to late 1970′s. Although the increase is slight, one would hope these numbers do not sky-rocket as we enter the future. The Bureau also states that in the year 2006, 67 percent of our nation’s children (those under the age of 18) lived in a “married” two-parent home. What does this say about our families? Is the two-parent home destined to be extinguished? I am no mind-reader, but I do not like the direction in which these numbers are heading.

When asked if they ever envisioned being a single parent, Bridgette F (mother to a 10-year-old boy), Tonya G, and Heather S all responded, “No.” I don’t believe I know anyone who would truly want to raise his or her child alone intentionally. I am a single, young, woman with no children and on most days, it is hard keeping my head afloat. I do not want to imagine operating at a speed twice as quick and hustling just as hard to maintain the well-being of myself and a child. I would want HELP, I would NEED help. There is absolutely no getting around this truth.

In an April 17, 2008 article, STL Today (http://tinyurl.com/4t6azd) has shone a spotlight on Kory Alexander who has made himself available to be a foster parent to teenagers in need of a parent. He began this new life at the age of twenty-four when he became a foster parent to a young man he knew. Since then, Alexander has opened up his home to several teenagers, and adopted three who are now adults. Alexander is truly making a change as a single parent, and there are more single men reaching out to those children who need a parent, but not very many. His situation is incredibly different from the women listed above; he sought out the role of single parenthood to offer those who did not have a parent or parents to “look up to,” still he needs to be mentioned. Without his somewhat call to action, those young men would have been parent-less for God knows how long. His efforts should be praised, as they were in the article linked above.

To any of you who are working to make ends meet and parenting your children alone, I salute you. If you are doing this with the mind-set that your child or children will benefit in the long run from what you have to endure, I salute you once more. You are my heroes and heroines. Your passion for a life well-suited for your young is inspiring and I commend you. This world may applaud your efforts here and there, but you certainly deserve your own cemented star. So to the single mothers and single fathers of this nation and all others, you have my total adoration and my utmost respect. Peace.

What I have found to be the most tedious task is bringing this list of things mentioned above into fruition. I have accomplished both small and big goals set for myself in the past (graduating from high school, graduating from college, publishing a book, and being a role model) and I have set goals to accomplish in the future. The key to goal-setting (in my opinion) is to feel out things that matter most to you in which you know you will definitely succeed because you are going to pour your all and ten times more into getting them accomplished. Once I have set a list of goals for myself, I begin to take subtle action. Sometimes, I need a little boost. Other times, all I actually require is the thought, memory and recollection of things past.

I am not one who is afraid to take chances in life. I have picked up my belongings and moved from one state to another in hopes of making more money, seeing more people, and introducing myself to other cultures and art forms. This has proven to be one of the best decisions I have made in life (to date). I am also focused on making another change in my life soon that will actually aid in helping me save more, remain happy with my job, and later move out of this great state of North Carolina. I like to think of life as a learning tool. It is given to us so that we can make mistakes, document those same mistakes, and then learn from them. If we are stuck in the line of continuously circling about those same mistakes like a revolving door, then what are we learning? I have been thinking about my purpose. Why am I here? To whom must I satisfy (other than myself of course)? How big does my voice need to get to show the world I exist? I do not dote on a lot of attention or a spotlight (if you will), nor do I require my very own soapbox; so…what must be done for my theories, concepts, words, and thoughts to be felt, absorbed, and taken seriously? This, my dear people is what I am working on now. I want to be known not for the things I have done, but for the person I am. I want to live on even after I am dead. I want to be legendary. But, if this isn’t a part of my purpose, will it bloom?

Who gives us purpose? When do we find it? How do we obtain it? Is purposeful living greater than non-purposeful living? Who sets these standards? I do not have the answers to any of the questions above, I just know that I have a deep, intimate connection with thinking I am *here* for a reason. You may or may not agree with me. You may or may not feel the same. But, I live every second of my life knowing that tomorrow could not arrive. With this line of thinking, in essence, every day I am dying. So, I do not want to say I rush myself into achieving all of my goals, but I push myself with the constant reminder that there has to be a greater ending (or beginning) ahead. The journey that I will probably take to complete some of the things that are wedged deep into my soul will be a long and dreadful one. But, the outcome, the outcome will live on forever. When I have passed on and no longer connect or exist with the living, I want my tombstone to read, “Here lies a woman who lived, learned, and knew her purpose in life. May she rest in peace.” I have a purpose, I just haven’t found it yet.

It could be described as if she were receiving this letter for the first time. “Okay Maine, at the top you have the date, July 5, 1989 then you have the time, and you start off with, “Hey Mama, I miss you…” Now, it would be false to say that I remember this letter, because I do not. It was far too long ago, but I do recall writing my mother while I was away and the fact that she wanted to share that moment in which she was reliving with me, made me smile. We moved on from that letter to a love letter written to me by a sweet, “little boy.” My mother read each sentence and I sat with my head leaning to the right, phone pressed firmly to my ear, engulfed in the reading as an advanced pupil in class. She began reading the lyrics to New Kids on the Block’s “Please Don’t Go Girl,” and I reminisced joyfully because this was my favorite song during that time. The writer was begging me not to break his heart (ala biting some lyrics) and asking for another chance. I shook my head in disbelief as my mother continued and I thought, *what in the world happened for him to write this?* She finished reading the letter and said to me, “Maine, now who wrote this to you? Was it that sweet little boy who sat with you on the porch swing after school and always asked if he could hold your hand?” I could only reply, “Yes Mom, yes it was.”

I do not remember a time in my life in which I was not writing. Anything that involved writing, I was definitely prepared to showcase what little skills I had. To this day, I send letters to a few of my friends and family. I purchase stationery, pens, notepads, and colorful envelopes to carry on this tradition. There is a humbling quality to writing, something so indescribable. You’d really have to share the same love for words as I do and enjoy using them, sharing them, and learning them to truly understand. We live in an age where text messages equal quick hellos, emails are ways to “catch-up,” and instant messenger services allow us to carry on full e-conversations. We have forgotten the art that is letter writing. We have pushed it to the back burner, placed it on simmer, and walked away from it never to return.

I have three friends who write me regularly in response to the letters I have written them. Each time I open my mailbox and see a letter from one of the three, the same feeling of delight emerges. I am shown that my mailbox can house documents other than bills, junk mail, and penny savers (after all, who likes getting any of these?). I am reminded that simplicity still exists and although dying, letter writing is not yet dead. Write someone you love, trust me, you will brighten up their day.