Reality Check: Self Love

The people we encounter that make a positive difference in the way we live our lives imprint something that is a permanent mark on our "life mural." You and I have one. We're born with this beautiful white space. It may be different in shape, or size, and even clarity, but essentially our palette is the same. The more we live, the more shades of color and brush strokes diversify the picture that takes a lifetime to develop. There is no one-hour development option. But, there's that one person that seems to have a very special addition to our works of art. Jake transformed my palette and made it three-dimensional. Up to that point, I wasn't completely sure of what there was to see. Others' strokes were in their appropriate place, as teachers and adult mentors should, but no other youth made an affect on my image like Jake.

It's late. I've wrestled with a topic all week and I keep getting back to the idea of Kofi –me. This probably sounds completely ludicrous, but it's true. I usually write or at least outline ideas that I'm curious about. I have an "interest" file where I put sticky notes, printed articles, book references, and lists of issues that I want to be, not expert, but at the very least, conversational. I had plans to discuss either the importance of the arts in education, the Clinton-Obama campaign, the lack of leadership in non-profits, or the decline of love in western societies. I prepared to write a glowing paper full of my interesting theories, anecdotes and essentially bullshit. We were assigned to discuss some sort of topic that either really affected us in some way or was an introspective look at an issue. These issues and situations, I definitely have my opinions about, but opinions are like infectious diseases; there are lots of them and they don't do any of us any good, or at least not for everyone. Jake would probably roll his eyes, snap his fingers and think, "Well I don't know about you, but I'm for damn sure my opinions matter!"

In an extremely conservative southern town, Jake was ridiculed often for being "out." He and I would walk the halls and were constantly reminded that we were different. Taunts came from the very people that experienced the same classes, the same bathrooms, the same lockers, the same teachers, the same generation, the same cafeteria, the same social development, the same gymnasium, the same locker room, the same supervision, the same pep rallies, the same Prom, the same football games, the same school—but yet no matter how hard I tried, because Jake didn't give a damn, we could never ever be the same. We were the fags, the queers, the gays, the feminine boys, and I was also the white black guy, the nigger, and never black enough. Thank goodness we had friends that thought we were awesome despite these "differences." Jake, for me, was special because he was so visibly happy in his own skin. I wasn't and still continue to live up to the maturity he exhibited so much earlier.

Recently, I've been interested in my own personal emotional development. It's not the cerebral sort of concerns about my degree or career mapping, but instead this type of personal content that I rarely share. Daily my interactions affect people, as theirs do likewise, and at times I wonder if I display the uncertainty that I experience. Do I honestly love my self? "Only when you truly love yourself can you ever be able to love others," says Eric Fromm in The Art of Loving. If Jake was having an especially bad day either everyone knew about it and refrained from too much interaction, or he'd grimace privately and smile despite the odds.

I feel pretty level headed. I work diligently, but I abhor compliments and usually let them to roll off as comment over compensation. If because of competition a friendship is at stake I'd rather avoid it by purposefully doing worst. I'd declare all those competing as the winners because I don't like the idea of ranking people's achievements—or losing friends because they're my lifeline. Besides, how do I know what it took for anyone else to deliver in a given moment? Is it the process or the product? In high school, I purposefully did not want to compete in arenas where I felt the "post-competition" pressure would be too unbearable. I did, however, attend a high school with this sort of underwritten nepotism issue that manifest into isolationism. I had to be careful not the upset the powers that be, sometimes those powers were my own classmates.

Being involved with band was a completely different issue. Competition was great because of the mutual support, or "team" ideology in creating a sort of temporary democratic experience where all people (instrumentalists) were on the same level—artistry. Jake was unabashedly happy for me in every regard if I succeeded at anything. He didn't challenge whether or not I deserved the recognition. Okay, so he was a little jealous that I got to go to the Interlochen Arts Summer Institute, but only because he felt left out if I came back with stories to tell. Thank goodness I was able to share with him the pictures and memories of an unforgettable summer. Jake definitely took his acting career seriously and we both challenged each other in our commitment to our crafts. Jake was determined to succeed no matter what.

I was so jealous that he could flounce his gold locks (he had great hair, everyone told him so, he knew it) and let people's comments clog the drains. He openly debated in class, and sometimes expected my cooperation. I didn't back him up. Jake would look in my direction for mutual support, but I'd always become mute. I remember one specific incident where I actually decided to adjust my walking pace in a crowded hallway just so I wouldn't be lumped in the same category as Jake as being flamboyant or "out and proud" by association. I was insecure, and not very proud. I was ashamed.

Jake didn't wear homosexuality on his sleeve. Yes, he was obviously undoubtedly gay, but it didn't necessarily define him. It was a facet, or a different hue to his mural, if you will. But don't be fooled, he could "strut it" with the best of them. We did a few fundraising fashion shows together for our local mall's Gap and people were convinced Jake was a natural. He owned the runway stage and the actor's stage. Three times we shared this musical theater environment: Footloose, Pippin, and our community theater's production of George M! He definitely had what it took. My roles were usually minimal. It was Jake that encouraged me to put down the clarinet for a second and experience what he loved so much. I found so many similarities. It's true that all the world's a stage and everyone plays a part.

Jake made his exit too soon. We were entering out sophomore year in college; he at Arkansas State University and I at the Rudi E. Scheidt School of Music at the University of Memphis. We were definitely committed artists. I was working at the Stax Museum SNAP! Summer Camp and he was acting in ASU's Summer Children's Theater program. We talked about seeing Wicked in Memphis in the same theater where he took me to see RENT two years before. I had said it was my turn to take him out! We spoke on the phone infrequently as our collegiate years brought new experiences, different friends, and busy schedules. I vowed that I'd try my best to stay in contact with the people who were responsible for molding my characteristics and, well, me—my friends. Our plan to hang out for his birthday was our last conversation.

Jake would say some of the best one-liners and make an entire room collapse in laughter. Don't make the mistake of crossing him because he would no doubt put you in place. He quoted Hamlet and Beyonce in the same breath. He loved Karen from Will and Grace and was especially authentic in Jack's "Cher" voice. He introduced me to the Baz Luhrmann Love Trilogy: Strictly Ballroom, Romeo & Juliet and Moulin Rouge. He also took me to see Jonathan Larson's RENT for my birthday. I had never seen RENT before and Jake scoffed and we laughed and he took me to see it on my birthday.

I went to visit the hospital and it was too late. He was declared brain dead. I learned later that he was actually going to a dress rehearsal for The Elves and the Shoemaker, but he was in a car accident. He would have graduated this May (2008). His funeral was my first. The entire time I felt numb. These liquid parcels that fell on my clothes weren't enough of a response to the situation. What could I do? Jake's funeral was at least a confirmation that indeed I did at least feel the love response emotion of mourning. In music, I feel pretty emotionally sound. My performance comments from music professors usually come back with, "Wow we really understood the emotional intent," etc. It's rare that I tap into this sort of deep touch in an open display of raw emotion. Why was I crying? Jake had other friends who maybe he was closer to and I didn't want it to seem that because I cried that we were on the same level that he was with them. How dare I?

Now I know better. His example of empathy for others, the characters he created, and the friendship we shared is one of the primary sources that I try to tap into when I need to be conscious of an indefinable element of my own emotional environment. I guess maybe I review somehow my experiences with Jake as lessons in love for myself, others and craft. At Jake's funeral, actors and actresses from the Arkansas State University theater department joined and performed "Seasons of Love," from the musical RENT. The song asks,

"Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes, Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred moments so dear. Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred (525,600) minutes – how, do you measure, measure a year? In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee. In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife. In five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes – how, do you measure a year in the life? How about love? How about love? How about love? Measure in love. Seasons of love. 525,600 minutes! 525,000 journeys to plan. 525,600 minutes - how can you measure the life of a woman or man? In truths that she learned, or in times that he cried. In bridges he burned, or the way that she died. It's time now to sing out, tho' the story never ends let's celebrate remember a year in the life of friends.
Remember the love! Remember the love! Remember the love! Measure in love.
Seasons of love! Seasons of love."

There, I've written this assignment and I hope that this serves a purpose not only for you, but for me. It has been three years. The two of us would normally be looking for opportunities now that we finished our first degree. One idea was to move to New York. Clearly they have been waiting for such a long time. We've been in the twilight zone of our surroundings and stuck out—"out." Ha, Jake, if nothing else, taught me that it's okay to love myself. Now, even since his passing, I'm still learning to do just that.
Thanks Jake. I miss you.

Starbucks at Eastern Market 7th and G

Shaken Iced-Tea, and Banana Nut Bread Loaf

Midterm Assignment: "Who are you? Who do you want to become and how are you going to get there?

"Peaceful Solutions," a TWC course taught by Colman McCarthy, challenges my honesty and integrity about myself! That's a pretty serious observation. I enrolled in the class after doing a closer look at all the TWC course offerings. I was looking for a set of classes that would, well, first maximize my full credit status, but also reinforce one another (e.g., reading and research, etc.). After briefly flipping through the entire catalog, I narrowed it down to my preferred courses, but needed more information. All of the bios of the professors sounded really great; impressive tenure track and actual career field experience. I searched LexisNexus to seek any articles they'd published and Google'd (yes, now a proper noun-verb?) them for their current activities. Colman McCarthy had written for the Washington Post for thirty plus years and I found out he directs the Center for Teaching Peace. This class definitely made it to the top of my course requests—thankfully, I got a spot. I began reading his material and I felt completely reassured that this "Peaceful Solutions" would match well with "Non-profit Management," a Master's-level course I'm taking through TWC at Johns Hopkins University.

I was in for rude awakening because I took the class on the guise that it sounded good. For me, I was hoping for some sort enlightenment just by sitting in his midst. I thought that maybe through osmosis I'd become a great writer because I thought he'd read our writings with fury as did editors for him for thirty years. I wanted him to challenge me to read as much material as possible because I need to be "learned." You know, I think I was a little jaded in what I believed to be a good professor. It's almost embarrassing to admit this, but I thought good professors were the ones who challenged you with a lot of busy work. I definitely am familiar with the ones who don't and also feed you Powerpoint chapter summaries; aren't we all. McCarthy doesn't teach this way.

The midterm paper assignment's topic is left for us to determine. We decide the project type, the tenets, the medium—everything. I chose myself. I think it's the hardest topic to write about. I've been burdened with not wanting to sound preachy, stuck up, and self-righteous. I still am. It's due on Thursday, March 18 and I still haven't started yet. It's not easy being brutally honest with your self. It would be so easy for me to write a typical "impersonal" personal essay, but my gut says no one will care, it's way too deep and won't he just take without care, a nonchalant glance, and not consider it as serious as I? How many does he have to grade? Will he grade mine last?

You laugh, but these are the things that have been keeping me from digging deep. I'm scared to. I've never really been completely open about my views concerning my past, present and future. My responses have been somewhat programmed for those probing questions from people that probably would probably care less about you. You know, the people who walk near you, ask how you're doing and before you actually respond, they're not even in hearing distance. If you don't care, why'd you ask? JK. I don't expect McCarthy to teach me to better understand myself—I expect that from me. You see, this is an example of a great teacher (no, I'm not sucking up, he probably won't read this blog); the one who makes you think for yourself so that you self-learn.

However, I do know that my cup is empty

Reality Check: Arts Education and Technology

I broke my computer and lost my iPod.

That sentence alone could be the makings of a novel. Despite this deplorable chain of unfortunate events, I have been able to remain steadfast in being without Facebook and my music collection at my fingertips. You know this "absence" of resources is new territory for me and has made me think of my previous stance on the argument of our generation's dependency on the essentials: cell phone, laptop, some sort of portable music player, and accounts with MySpace and/or Facebook, which are now almost like political parties.

I'll admit I have been apart of two major factions about the issue. I have been on the side where people scoff of the idea of Facebooking and have said things like, "Why would people walk around with their brains in a music closet." This was most likely referring to people who go to restaurants with their iPod buds in their ears. Mind you, there is music playing in the establishment—loudly. Maybe their earphones were noise-canceling, etc., but even so wouldn't that have been a hazard?

The other side of the argument is that Facebook, and other networking sites, actually have merit because there are many positive uses: contact information, event planning, and now with the new developments on Facebook, people can do everything from buying/selling textbooks to planning student rallies. I'm serious! I advertised my Junior Clarinet Recital with Facebook. As for the iPod, it works as a major mood enhancer while completing brainless activities from jogging to even riding the Metro. Both sides of the argument have their strengths, but a bigger question is--why can't the arts deal with the use of technology if it's such a major component of the human experience?

The arts cannot compete with something that is now so imbedded in how we experience life. Instead of wasting our time being upset and persuading people not to use their equipment, maybe we should think of ways to participate. Now, I certainly don't mean to be preachy at all. I also hate that young generations are usually the root of all select problems when clearly the development of these issues has something to do with those who are responsible for us. Who might that be? Yeah, our parents and teachers! Oh, and we're totally not the only people who are a little unhealthy with our contact and protection of our cell phones. In fact, there was a Blackberry outage that ruffled the feathers of many, many business folk who even threatened with a legal action against their service providers. (http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/02/11/AR2008021101947.html).

Wow, if I could file a lawsuit for all the things that irk me. I'd always be in the court room. "Ugh! You stepped on my toe on this overcrowded Metro; I'm suing you!" "Wait, what, you don't have this in a 28? You're going down; I'm calling my pro-bono!" Folks, give me a break.

Mind you, most influence comes from our media intake. How many commercials, if you admit to watching television, are geared towards us? Disclaimer: The rest of this is hopefully not to seem coming from a self-righteous technology junkie all-genre music loving musician. My craft aside, this is just my opinion laid out for you. Technology Rocks!

1. Technology offers dissemination and immersion.

There are a plethora of iTunes albums that I've purchased because I just happened to check out an iTunes only band, a friend recommended them, or I read a blurb about a group. I've also prepared for auditions from the materials that I find online; YouTube, Facebook, and other music downloading/ sampling programs have their merits for much more than stifling the record label industry. Thank you record companies for publishing CDs with little royalties to the artists, but most especially for allowing an influx of self-starters who have proved that their opinion of their own art is sufficient to share with others. With self-publishing capabilities from our desktops, now, we rule.

2. Technology expands performance opportunities.

Multi-genre performing artists and major symphony orchestras are beginning to utilize technology to enhance their work. Projects, broadcasts (podcasts), and other streaming services allows there to be substantiation to an ensemble not performing in Carnegie Hall. I could set up shop in my basement and stream anywhere making it accessible to people across the globe. This year, Michael Jackson's "Thriller" was re-released by Sony BMG. It's totally guerilla marketing, but now more people involved in this project have jobs. It's an interesting look at how arts and advertising can collaborate. Check out this story about dancers who literally perform on a Metro.

3. Technology aids in Arts Education.

I know that as a clarinetist, many musical concepts can feel very esoteric and confusing and I'm even more certain it would be mind-boggling to a non-musician. Electronic keyboards, aural and music theory can be foreign if there is no way to display examples and reiterate their definitions without hearing and experiencing the terms. Technology allows this to happen. Interactive components to encyclopedias, websites, dictionaries, and other research materials can create lifelong learners and deliver information more efficiently.

So, no, all technology isn't all bad. However, the time we spend keeps us from enjoying other enriching activities. Obviously people should find pastimes other than checking Facebook for two hours and then spending the afternoon playing Guitar Hero, but if they choose to, that's their own prerogative. Heck, I'm guilty as charged; Facebook research is a craft. Nonetheless, they (we) aren't the reason arts suffer. Should they decide to go to a symphony, and never go again, that's okay. If they never have a single arts experience, it's apparent that we've failed to make them interested. If people feel welcome and don't feel they're treading on exclusive snobby arenas, then they'll become frequent patrons. Doesn't that make sense?

I could only suggest one change. Arts education in schools is the biggest opportunity to instill in children an appreciation (not obsession, mind you) for the arts before it's too late. And, it's not just important to include the arts in the schools so that as adults the children will buy season tickets to a symphony. The aim should be to actually mold them into more sensitive beings that are competent to at least enjoy art on some level. New artists are a by-product of this process, not the primary purpose.

Dana Gioia, the chairman of the National Endowment for the Arts, mentioned something in a discussion with the University of Wisconsin-Madison Bolz Center for Business graduate students yesterday (3/12/03) that solidified my pursuit to teach music in a school. He gave us an anecdote as to why it is important to have arts courses in schools with a description of a student using art as a means of coming of age and being accepted. I've captured the essentials in the following narrative:

Imagine that Juan is a student who is smart, but not exactly completely dedicated to his studies for competitive reasons. He may even be smarter than those that received accolades for their abilities. In fact, he may underperform to purposefully not be in the limelight. He feels as if maybe people would be jealous and say negative things. He just wants acceptance. You know, this Juan could go to an extremely culturally monolithic type of school and be "odd" looking to both his peers and his teachers. Then, he finds out about the school production. He auditions, gets a part, and feels more comfortable with his surroundings. He joins a supportive community. He performs and the audience who gives him a standing ovation includes his sometimes unfair teachers and his bully classmates. For Juan, this is gaining acceptance and for once he feels like everyone else. He is a better person, a respected person, a talented person, a smarter person, a more loving person, and most of all, an artist.

Without arts in schools these opportunities are lost. Believe me, I should know. I am Juan.

Java House: Dupont Circle, 17th & P Streets

House White Mocha & Jumbo Choco-Cookie

Java House is a great pit stop near 17th and P which is very close to The Washington Center headquarters.

Doing homework at the Java House Café in the Dupont Circle business district.

Nonprofit Leadership=Self-sacrifice?

If world business leaders were on a "fierce" reality TV show and challenged in effective staff development, the panel, which would undoubtedly include a celebrity guest (me), would first say, "Nonprofit leaders, please go back to your apartment, pack your bags, and go home." It's a sad day for the nonprofit world, or so they say. The Eugene and Agnes E. Meyer Foundation, Idealist.org, CompassPointNonprofit Services, and The Annie E. Casey Foundation projected a poor future for the nonprofit sector by asking 6,000 next generation leaders about their experiences in the nonprofit world.

I've considered my future in the nonprofit sector, but the results are sobering. Should I promote a cause and potentially suffer sacrifice myself by submitting wholeheartedly? When do I begin to consider my own life development? Which comes first? Reva Price said lifestyle considerations always come first. Price, minority Advisor to Speaker of the House, Nancy Pelosi, spoke to my Johns Hopkins Nonprofit Management course (through TWC) at the Capitol this Monday (3/3/2008) about the state of the nonprofit industry the day the Washington Post published news of this report. Price has twenty-five years of experience in the nonprofit sector. She also switched to working for the government, and stressed the importance of considering ourselves and our need for change. Price mentioned that people enter the sector with the wrong image in mind and quickly change into different careers. This is a statistical malady, I think, because it covers the hard workers enjoying their work at the grass roots level. Regardless, the study warns that the sector has long hours, little pay, poor advancement opportunities, and little diversity in leadership. I also considered the issue of women and diversity in the sector. Like government, it is a white male-dominated arena. She told us about her issues with this problem which didn't stop her despite the obvious injustices in this system. This is very true. Leadership is a problem. I'm sure it's even more of a problem considering the nonprofit sector's few resources. The report does highlight positives. The workforce behind the nonprofit industry is extremely motivated. In fact, it may be the most motivated network of people dedicated to their causes. One in three respondents, despite the harrowing economic realities aspires to become an executive director. Higher percentages of these individuals are people of color. All the above feel prepared to lead within five years.

Fellow TWC interns at the Johns Hopkins Nonprofit Management course meeting at the Capitol.

Office of the Speaker of the House balcony view overlooking the National Mall.

I'm so concerned about the state of the Arts community in terms of education and minority audience development. Now, I'm really considering the ramifications of such a career choice. "What type of lifestyle do you want?" The question feels a bit too foreign. Price summarily told us that she just wanted something different and so she found that something in her work for the government. The idea that I should focus my energies on attaining the type of lifestyle that I want just doesn't sit well with me. It's funny how we use societal influence on the choices that should involve our own personal reflection. Honestly, I feel a little defiant right now while writing. "RING THE ALARM!" (Obviously I had to throw a little Beyonce in there.) Nonetheless, if I decide to enter the nonprofit sector, I've really got to consider my role as a leader. Peter F. Drucker gives beautiful examples on the essence of good leadership in his text, Managing the Non-Profit Sector, required reading for the Johns Hopkins class. He asks us to consider a different question, "What do you want to be remembered for?"

…before I continue, my cup is empty.