CareerCampSCV 2014 is happenin’!

12 07 2014

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Another CareerCampSCV is in full swing! The Girl did a Breakout session on ”Blogging Effectively”, then did a regular session on “Social Media and Your Career”!

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Refueling with some lunch and ready for two afternoon sessions: “10 Things to Do While You’re Looking”, and a repeat of the Blogging breakout session.

Always an awesome time of learning, contributing,  and inspiring!





Happy Father’s Day!

15 06 2014

Happy Father’s Day to all those who have taken on the role, whether you are biologically connected to your children, or merely through the heart. Here is an excerpt from my memoir, FRIED CHICKEN AND SYMPATHY, about my biological father, Theodore Roosevelt Oliver, Sr., followed by a link to an Examiner article that I wrote a few years back about my spiritual father, Glenn “Kirk” Kirkpatrick.

Blessings!

My father when he worked at the Naval Base in North Chicago, IL.

My father when he worked at the Naval Base in North Chicago, IL.

Oliver’s Twist: The Father I Barely Knew…

“People can never predict when hard times might come.
Like fish in a net or birds in a snare, people are often caught by sudden tragedy.”
Ecclesiastes 9:12

I only have two memories of my father: The first one was in life, the second in death. The first was of a family trip to Brookfield Zoo in 1969. I consider June the unofficial family historian, and even she is surprised that I remember it so well. After the nine of us had spent our day at the zoo, we ambled single-file through the parking lot, to get into our lovely green four-door Oldsmobile with the chrome bumpers and the white-green interior, and head back to Cabrini-Green.

I was a vision of two-year-old cuteness, in a sky-blue pinafore with little embroidered flowers, blue socks with frilly borders, and braids that were contacting Mars; to this day my hair still has a life of its own. I distinctly remember Oliver (as most people, including us kids, called him) swooped me up with one large hand, and tucked me in his arm, holding me in the crook, while he used his other hand to retrieve the car keys from his pocket and open the door for the rest of the family. Oliver was stylish, in his button-down shirt, suspenders and tweed slacks. He had on one of his classic wide-brimmed hats, and I attempted to grab it off his head—an attempt which amazingly he dodged—seeing that his arms and hands were full.

He whispered something in my ear, but at that age I didn’t understand or care about words. All I cared about was his arm around me, holding me close, and the feeling of contentment it gave me.

My second memory of him is not really about him, but about his funeral. We were at Burr Oak Cemetery in Worth, Illinois on July 12, 1970. By today’s standards it’s a ghetto cemetery, but back then, it was one of the few options for people of color. Grandpa Joe and Grandma Annie had been laid to rest there, so it was in keeping with tradition.

So there we were, all seven of us kids standing around the gravesite in the rain, like strong little soldiers in black. I was holding onto Bay’s black-gloved hand, and something struck me so suddenly that I began to urgently tug on her arm. She looked down at me, her head wrapped in a black scarf, eyes shielded by the dark glasses she wore.

“Is Oliver coming back?” I asked. I didn’t get an answer. Just silence, with all eyes plastered on the hole in the ground. My first lesson in family dynamics. When faced with a hard question, pretend it was never asked.

I still have a knack for asking hard questions that have no answers.

I felt about as confused, and cheated as I sometimes feel now. At the age of three, I was not mature enough to wrap my heart around death’s finality. The little girl now buried within the adult still doesn’t.

It puzzles me how you can ache and long for someone you didn’t really know. I’m still that little girl in the blue dress at the zoo—except now, I long for my daddy’s arms instead of enjoying being in them. It’s a gaping hole—no matter how hard you try to fill it, it remains a bottomless pit. I pinpoint a lot of my emotional problems to the fact that my father was stolen from me. The depression I struggle with, my choosing emotionally-, and physically-unavailable men, and the subsequent lack of trust which has resulted from all those dead-end relationships.

As part of my own therapy to get a handle on the past, I’ve attempted to piece together Oliver’s life, like shards of a shattered plate. A delicate and painful exercise, with the end result being bloodied hands, and a piece that lacks the beauty, function and worth of the original. To some, it might serve little use except as a reminder of what used to be; but, painstakingly, I continue with the task. With each piece that comes together, and every little bit of new knowledge I acquire about him, I get a sense that I’m doing something significant and important—even if it’s for no one else but me.


My spiritual father, Glenn "Kirk" Kirkpatrick. A reflection of the Father Heart of God

My spiritual father, Glenn “Kirk” Kirkpatrick. A reflection of the Father Heart of God

 The Father Heart of God

Father’s Day has often been a foreign holiday to me. My father was murdered when I was three, and it wasn’t until thirty years later that someone came into my life who helped me understand the Father heart of God. Because of that consistent witness, I asked Glenn “Kirk” Kirkpatrick to step into the role of “Father of the Bride”, and walk me down the aisle.

This father role was not a place he sought, nor I pursued. But Kirk’s heart’s desire was to be the man God wanted Him to be, and as he sought the Father’s heart, he could not help but emulate it. And God’s divine purpose for us is to know his heart; it does not matter if it is demonstrated through human or spiritual genetics. He used Kirk to grant me this gift, and I make it a point to honor him as a father. I wish him a Happy Father’s Day, whether with a card or a message–now, Father’s Day is more familiar, and less foreign. Read more at Examiner.com: The Father Heart of God.





In My Orbit: Communities Digital News Hour

7 06 2014
Digital Image courtesy of Danilo Rizzuti / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Digital Image courtesy of Danilo Rizzuti / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

The Girl’s writing as part of Communities Digital News is reaping dividends. My latest column, White House Prevaricator Jay Carney calls it quits, has gotten tremendous response. So tremendous that I was asked to be a guest columnist on the Communities Digital News Hour yesterday to talk about White House Press Secretary Jay Carney’s resignation, the role of the White House Press Secretary, his or her relationship to the Washington correspondents, and how technology has altered that role and potentially may bring it to obsolescence.

I am about 15 minutes in, after the discussion on Bowe Bergdahl—which is also well worth your listening:

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/communitiesdigitalnewshour/2014/06/06/commdiginews-hour-talking-bowe-berghdale-jay-carney-normandy-and-fathers-day

News Podcasts with Communities Digital News Hours on BlogTalkRadio.

Hope you enjoy your listen, and enjoy your weekend!




In My Orbit: No heavy lifting today–others do it so much better!

15 05 2014

 

Who Cares Meme

So what is capturing the public’s attention this week? Solange Knowles trying to kick the stuffing out of Jay-Z in an elevator, and Michael Sam’s Gay Kiss. I care about both these subjects as much as I care about dyeing my hair blonde (Nil, Nada, Zip). But the media and the publicity whores are going to try to make me care… or else

What I do care about are people constantly trying to shove something down my throat, and media bias; but I’m repeating myself. Thank you, Matt Walsh, for caring enough to articulate this. Read on…

This is my homophobic rant against Michael Sam | The Matt Walsh Blog.





In My Orbit: Yoga Life

5 05 2014

“Yoga teaches us to cure what need not be endured and endure what cannot be cured.” — BKS Iyengar

Jennifer-2790

This week, my Yoga class theme will be on endurance. I had a lovely weekend, but also had some really ugly things occur that I had to endure. I am so grateful for my Yoga practice, which allows me to not only put it all into perspective (God is in control), but gives space for cure to occur or endurance to be strengthened.

Feet

In the cure category, I have plantar fasciitis, which is inflammation of the thick tissue on the bottom of my foot that connects the heel bone to the toes and creates the arch. I have no arch–I was born with flat feet, so I’m sure that contributed to development of this common malady. Yoga has not only helped me endure this condition, but it has been a curative aid, alleviating the inflammation and eliminating the pain.

So, what are you enduring that could be cured? Or where do you need more endurance for an incurable situation? If you are in the Los Angeles area, I teach six times this week, and CorePower Yoga–my studio–offers a free week to new students.

Cure or endurance? Perhaps time on the mat could lead you to answers.

Here’s my schedule. CorePower’s global schedule for all studios can be found at the corepoweryoga.com website:

Every Tuesday, 7:30 a.m.: C-2 at CorePower Yoga Sherman Oaks, 13920 Ventura Boulevard, Sherman Oaks, CA 91423
This Tuesday, May 6 at 4:30 p.m. C-2 at CorePower Yoga Studio City, 3575 Cahuenga Boulevard West, Universal City, CA 90068

Every Wednesday, 7:30 a.m. and 9:00 a.m. C-2; and 3:00 p.m. C-1.5. CorePower Yoga Sherman Oaks.

This Friday, May 9 at 4:30 p.m. C-2 at CorePower Yoga Studio City.

I would love to see you on the mat! You can keep abreast of more of my Yoga goings-on at my Soul Flow Yoga Meetup Page.





In My Orbit: It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood…

2 05 2014

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This Girl and her mister, along with the Bubbas and Bubbette, took off to San Luis Obispo, California,  the gorgeous Central Coast.

My husband Lynn collects military radios, and the first weekend in May there is a Collector’s retreat held at Camp San Luis Obispo. It’s become a tradition of our marriage, and also allows us to see Lynn’s family, who live close by.

We also get to see friends that we’ve made over the years we’ve attended, like Ms. Laura and her husband Mike.  They travel here all the way from the Salton Sea (Indio), and Laura loves our puppies.

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While Lynn enjoyed the talks and items for swap, I was able to get some work done under beautiful, blue skies and 82-degree temperatures.

My next column, on the new email revelations regarding the 2012 Benghazi terrorist attack appears on Communities Digital News this evening. Hop on over and give it a read, along with my other articles.

The lovely part of being an online writer is the ability to take your work wherever you might be. Have device and internet connection, will travel!

I hope you have an awesome weekend, with whatever is in your orbit!





Here’s the post where I’m accused of defending Donald Sterling

28 04 2014

asthegirlturns:

I have little desire to write about this ridiculous knee-jerk reaction to Donald Sterling’s comments. Very grateful that Matt Walsh has done the dirty work. Read on….

Originally posted on The Matt Walsh Blog:

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It’s really a fascinating thing, when you think about it.

Even a culture like ours — a culture dedicated to hedonism and relativism — has to put on a show every once in a while and pretend it has some semblance of a moral standard. It shows you that those philosophers and theologians were actually onto something when they wrote about Natural Law.

Deep down, in the pit of our being, there exists a need to be good and virtuous; but if being good and virtuous is too hard, then at least we need to find a halfway convincing substitute. Only demons and psychotics would stand and openly proclaim their own evil — the rest of us can act the part, but we still feel the urge to get up and play Morality Charades on occasion.

That’s what comes to mind when I see the reaction to the story about…

View original 1,920 more words








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