30 Things...

Every Woman Should Have and Should Know by the Time She's 30
By Glamour Magazine

Ok so I've yet to even reach my mid-20s, but I came across this list and found it to be great for self-reflection and evaluation, no matter what age you are. I like to take time to think about what I'm really doing here on earth and I figured I'm not the only one. Sometimes your life, relationships and career and personal goals need some revamping. This might help.
By 30, you should have:
One old boyfriend you can imagine going back to and one who reminds you of how far you’ve come.
A decent piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in your family.
Something perfect to wear if the employer or man of your dreams wants to see you in an hour.
A purse, a suitcase and an umbrella you’re not ashamed to be seen carrying.
A youth you’re content to move beyond.
A past juicy enough that you’re looking forward to retelling it in your old age.
The realization that you are actually going to have an old age—and some money set aside to help fund it.
An e-mail address, a voice mailbox and a bank account—all of which nobody has access to but you.
A résumé that is not even the slightest bit padded.
One friend who always makes you laugh and one who lets you cry.
A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill and a black lace bra.
Something ridiculously expensive that you bought for yourself, just because you
deserve it.
The belief that you deserve it.
A skin-care regimen, an exercise routine and a plan for dealing with those few other facets of life that don’t get better after 30.
A solid start on a satisfying career, a satisfying relationship and all those other facets of life that do get better.

By 30, you should know:
How to fall in love without losing yourself.
How you feel about having kids.
How to quit a job, break up with a man and confront a friend without ruining the friendship.
When to try harder and when to walk away.
How to kiss in a way that communicates perfectly what you would and wouldn’t like to happen next.
The names of: the secretary of state, your great-grandmother and the best tailor in town.
How to live alone, even if you don’t like to.
How to take control of your own birthday.
That you can’t change the length of your calves, the width of your hips or the nature of your parents.
That your childhood may not have been perfect, but it’s over.
What you would and wouldn’t do for money or love.
That nobody gets away with smoking, drinking, doing drugs or not flossing for very long.
Who you can trust, who you can’t and why you shouldn’t take it personally.
Not to apologize for something that isn’t your fault.
Why they say life begins at 30.

Someday when I'm 30, I hope to have and know each of the articles on this list. And I hope that my life will still be what dreams are made of.

Why Not?

A good friend of mine, Isaac, came into town this past weekend for work, so we planned to meet up. After my class, we met at Times Square and asked two policemen where we should go. Isaac said asking policemen is always a safe route because they have to know the city. They told us we should find Restaurant Row, so we did and ended up at a French restaurant called L'Ybane. I ordered the seafood spaghetti and a glass (ok, maybe two) of sparkling Moscato. Mon dieu, c'est trés bon! Had the leftovers the next day for lunch and it was even better the second time. The spaghetti, not the wine. But this is not a review of this restaurant (although I will most certainly go back), so moving on...

As Isaac and I we were talking about how I was adjusting to life in the city, my love life (and lack thereof, in case you're wondering), and being a graduate student, he said something to me that began a conversation and series of thoughts that I will never forget. It began when he told me how proud he was that I decided to venture out of Virginia, that he wished he had the balls to do that when he was 22. He said, "If there's an opportunity to study abroad, GO!" and reminded me that there is a world of opportunities here that are at my fingertips, from networking events to modeling opportunities to community involvement. He then asked me what really made me feel compelled to move to New York City, in the end. Without even thinking, I replied, "Why not?"

Isaac and me at my college graduation

And again I say, "Why not?" It makes me think of the Hilary Duff song lyrics:

Why not take a crazy chance?

Why not do a crazy dance?

If you lose a moment, you might lose a lot.

So, why not?

Why not? There was absolutely nothing holding me back. I didn't win Miss Virginia so promoting my personal platform, as well as the Miss America Organization and its platform, the Children's Miracle Network, as a full-time job for the next year was no longer an option. I didn't have a job or internship or even living arrangements in Northern Virginia, where I went to undergrad and where many of my friends still are. And although I love my little town of Louisa and my parents and brother very much, what on earth would I be doing there right now? Looking terrible, I bet (my signature phrase). The reason I moved here and the reason why I do so many of the things I do (which is the same reason my parents worry so much about me), is because I was born without fear. For as long as I can remember, I have had a healthy disregard for the impossible. I awaken from my big dreams in the morning and begin to prepare for my future full of them. No one can make them a reality but me and God.

So that's what I'm doing here. I have set out, not to change the world, but to make a difference in it. And I believe I have chosen the best profession in the world for that. When done properly, public relations seeks to educate people, to motivate them and change public perception without misleading people. Public relations is centered on ethics, and since ethics play such an immeasurable role in my personal life, it's only right that the consistency spreads across my professional life, as well.

I know so many people take pride in my accomplishments because they feel they have helped me succeed in some way. They are correct. No man (or woman) succeeds on his own. I learned that from Malcolm Gladwell in Outliers. I know that some people are counting on me to fail and run home crying to my parents. Tell them not to bet their bottom dollar. I know that there are still others who would like to do and be more than they currently are. They can. They just need to ask themselves, "Why not?" If that question goes unanswered, they'll know it's time. I hope I can inspire them in some way, even if I never know. That's what dreams are made of.

My (New) New York

They say you aren't truly a New Yorker until you've lived here consecutively for ten years. Bump them. I've been here a little over a week and I'd like to think I'm already a New Yorker. I have yet to master the subway, I forget to close my curtains sometimes and I still walk around in awe as a tourist would, but who cares? I'm an explorer.

And my apartment--OUR apartment--is the best thing since sliced bread. My roommate and I lucked out in getting a newly renovated place with all new furnishings. Unfortunately, that also meant we were without a kitchen sink and cabinets for almost a week. It was tragic. All those meals I had imagined myself cooking had to be put on hold. The horror. Yet, somehow, I managed.

For making this move alone to a brand new city, I have been called brave. I have been called crazy. I have been called amazing. In reality, I am probably a bit of all three, with an emphasis on the crazy. Let’s face it: I’m a southern country gal. There are farms and llamas and dirt roads in Louisa, Va., where I’m from. We just got a Wal-Mart. Our biggest attractions are Lake Anna and our Friday night football games in The Jungle. This is a big change for me. My parents are worried sick and in constant prayer. And so am I. 

On my first full day as a New York resident, my father texted to ask if I was yet homesick. I told him I wasn’t, which was and is true. But as the week progressed, I learned that the city can be quite lonely. At times, I felt so small in this immensely populated and big place. New York City is my ocean, and I believe I will always feel small standing beside it. I have certainly found my comfort zone and vow to stay out of it in exploration of something more. 

In my first week, I noticed quite a few things. For starters, New Yorkers stare. And not just the creeps you see hanging out in dark alleys (not that I've ever been in any other than in my nightmares), but even the fairly normal-looking people. It may be because I have a smiling problem and they don't. New Yorkers don’t smile enough, so naturally they’re surprised when I smile at them. They probably think I’m crazy. Ask me if I care. The world needs a lot more love.

I also found that everyone here is always in a hurry, even when they don't have to be. It seems they have become so accustomed to the rat race that even when they have time, they don't stop to enjoy life. I hope that doesn't become me. I want to always make time to soak in life's sweet moments. The other night on the train, I was thinking about my freshman year of undergrad and the good times I had with the friends who became family. I will never get those moments back, but I so wish I could sometimes. Someday, I may say the same about the time I spent here in New York. So my days here will not be wasted.

Now, about grad school: it's a lot like undergrad. You have the slackers and the overachievers, the invigorating and mind-stimulating professors and the ones who drone on and on. (If you're reading this, Prof. Breakenridge, you are most certainly the former.) And we can't forget the group projects and presentations and seemingly endless reading assignments. What's different is, of course, the content and discussion thereof. We examine many more case studies than I did in undergrad, which I find extremely useful for practical application. Everyone knows you can't learn everything you need to in a classroom or from a book. But you can learn from the past and from your professors and peers. I can honestly say I am impressed with my fellow classmates and their accomplishments, as well as with my professors and their teaching styles.

Right now, I have a lot of free time on my hands, but in a couple weeks I will begin an internship with Simon & Schuster, a top publishing company. When I tell you this opportunity of a lifetime fell into my lap, I mean it. And that’s why I think it was sent from above. I believe in signs like that. What's meant to be always will be. And I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be now.

I feel blessed to be who and where I am. This is what dreams are made of.

A Place to Call Home

If you are a real adult reading this post, you have probably hunted for your first apartment. You feel my pain. In my first experience finding a place to call home (apart from the one I have with my parents), I was scammed. When someone tells you they are out of the country for business and can't meet you to view the apartment, KNOW that something is up. When they then proceed to request that you wire them funds for the first month and security, CALL THE COPS. Ok, maybe there is no need for you to call the cops, but in no way should you communicate with them further. DO NOT wire them money but DO share your experience online via the hundreds of forums set up just for that. You'd think people would have some decency and not scam innocent movers just looking for a place to rest their heads at night. Wrong!

After I conducted my own research and realized I had almost made a very bad decision, I began my search again for the apartment of my dreams. In New York City. Yes, I know I'm a tad optimistic, but I warned you. I contacted friends I knew who had gone through an apartment hunt in NYC and they suggested sites for me. I then received a text from a friend from undergrad who was also planning to move to New York. We figured it could only save us money, so we decided to be roommates. And this is where it began to get crazy again.

So Deena (that's my friend's name) had a classmate from grad school who was apartment hunting, too. She became Our Third Roommate. After deciding on our musts--three TRUE bedrooms, two baths (yes we were ambitious), reasonable closet space and pets being allowed (for Our Third Roommate), we searched every site we could, called every Realtor in New York (or so it seemed) and made appointments. After getting to New York, we realized how much of spoiled brats we were coming from Virginia. If it had two baths, one of the rooms was the size of a highschooler's locker. If it had a huge kitchen, there was only one bathroom. If it had three bedrooms AND two baths, we heard shooting outside (KIDDING!). Needless to say, we weren't very impressed with what we saw. This was much to each Realtor's surprise after having worked with New Yorkers for so long. And this was only Day 1.

I was pooped. I had never done that much walking in my life! All I could think of was how I wouldn't really need to work out all that much (not that I ever did haha) if I decided to compete again. Right before I went to bed, I received a Facebook message from Hilary, one of my MVO sisters, saying she, too, was apartment hunting in the city. I figured since we hadn't accomplished all that much the first day, we might as well let her join our troupe for the second day. Our Third Roommate had to get back to work in Virginia the next day, so we promised we'd find a four-bedroom apartment that was absolutely perfect for our many needs.

And we did! Hilary, Deena and I fell in love with the first apartment we viewed the next day and knew it was The One. We then learned Our Third Roommate and her dog would actually no longer be moving to New York and we needed to find our second fourth roommate. You might not believe this, but before the day was over, we did. And the next day, we lost her. And we gained another, lost her, gained another, lost him, and finally decided maybe it would be best if there were only three of us. And so there are.

Or so there were. After what seemed like eons of searching (it was only about a month), in the end, Deena decided to room with another friend of hers and Hilary and I settled on a 2bed/1bath on the Upper West Side that we couldn't be happier with. Having one bathroom will be a challenge, but we're not complaining. We're actually relieved. This stuff sure can be stressful. We've been through who-knows-how-many applications, ridiculous brokers fees and upfront costs that we're all just glad it's over. Deena isn't too far from us so there will be plenty of opportunities for her to visit and vice versa.

We are happy. After all, it is OUR FIRST APARTMENT. We love saying that. We sign our leases soon. Here's to our New York minute!

Stay tuned for more updates.

Chick-fil-A dustup shows there's no escaping the way you were raised

By Terry Dickson on jacksonville.com

BRUNSWICK, GA. | You would think that only PETA would have a bone to pick with Chick-fil-A. Or a broccoli stem to examine, depending on your viewpoint.

Not anymore. Chick-fil-A President Dan Cathy stepped in the political equivalent of chicken droppings when he said that marriage should be like it says in the Bible, between a man and a woman.

He wouldn’t have raised a bigger stink if he had said he likes to relax on weekend by stomping a few puppies.

If you eat at Chick-fil-A, someone is hoping you choke on your waffle fries. Rosanne Barr went farther, saying anyone who eats at Chick-fil-A deserves to get cancer. She backed off later, saying she wouldn’t wish cancer on anyone.
Celebrity blogger Perez Hilton said, “I heard Chick-fil-A gives you diarrhea.”

That had to hurt coming from someone like Hilton. He thinks it’s hilarious to draw mustaches and blackened teeth on celebrities’ photos and then and post them on his blog with some catty remarks.

The man’s a true artist.

Some mayors and councilmen around the country are vowing to block Chick-fil-A’s plans to open restaurants in their cities, including Chicago Mayor Rahm Emanuel, who said “Chick-fil-A values are not Chicago values.”

I’m afraid that’s just going to make people eat more chicken.

But look, it’s not really Dan Cathy’s fault. He was raised that way.

His father, company founder S. Truett Cathy, has made no secret that he runs his Chick-fil-A on biblical principals. They’re even closed on Sunday when Baptists love to eat chicken.

Truett and Jeanette Cathy founded the Win Shape Foundation in 1984. It provides college scholarships, has a marriage program and operates camps for kids. In politics, we seem to be hung up on “choice.” Well, there are some people in the world who don’t have a choice. They are kids who have no parents, at least none who care for them.

The Cathys established 12 foster homes on the campus at Berry College where 24 full-time house parents care for children.

The Cathys visit the children often to show them that someone loves them deeply. There are 150 people who call him grandpa.

Locally, Chick-fil-A restaurants have spirit night in which they give part of their profits for causes. Thursday night on St. Simons Island, a group raised money at Chick-fil-A for a young girl who needs heart surgery.

Shortly after Dan Cathy’s remarks, Melissa Browning blogged on Huffington Post that she would bypass her beloved Chick-fil-A meals “I won’t eat at Chick-fil-A on any day of the week because I can no longer be part of these contributions that fund hate,’’ she wrote.

Hate? I don’t think so. Dan Cathy wasn’t raised that way.

--

I posted this because I believe there is absolutely nothing wrong with saying that marriage should be like it says in the Bible, between a man and a woman. If it were open, I'd eat at Chick-fil-A tomorrow. (I love that it's not, though.) It's a shame people can't even voice their calm opinion without others feeling targeted. Just because you don't support same-sex marriage doesn't mean you hate that group of people.

Life Lessons

"When someone believes in you, it moves your heart." As a result, you can then literally (ok, maybe not literally but you sure feel like it!) move mountains. Without a doubt, that is how I have felt in the year 2012. I am so fortunate to be surrounded by family and friends who truly believe in and support me. And it comes in handy.

Since my last entry, I have accepted plenty of losses and experienced some disappointments; made some decisions that I didn't think through and some that I am most proud of; and I have held firm to my belief that everything happens for a reason.

To give you an example, on my third attempt at the Miss Virginia crown, I failed to make the Top 12 after making it last year. Was I disappointed? Sure. Did I accept my loss at the hands of twelve very deserving young women? I sure did. Was I defeated? Absolutely not. You can't keep a good woman down and I'd like to think I'm a good woman. With a different panel of judges on a different day, the results could have been completely different. I realize that. So I moved on. I know who I am, where I stand and for what I will take a stand. If I had to define confidence (which I'm skeptical to fully believe in anyway), that's how I'd define it. Plus, I know several people who believe I could have (and maybe someday could still be) Miss Virginia.

They also believed, like I did, that I could be accepted into New York University for graduate school. And I was. I also received a partial scholarship to help cut the cost of tuition. I couldn't be happier. The market for public relations in New York is huge and I knew that moving there would definitely benefit me professionally in the long run. For that reason, a large part of me wanted to go to New York this fall, no matter how badly I wanted the job of Miss Virginia. Now, all of me is going! God sure knows what He is doing, that I am sure.

Back in April, I went to New Orleans for an alternative break. At night, each team member shared a "high" and "low" moment of that day. I now write down my highs and lows each night (that I remember), and I've found it increasingly hard to choose just one high. My lows are quite often as silly as missing the first five minutes of Wheel of Fortune or my ice cream cone melting. This has shown me that there is truly so much to be grateful for, so little to cry over and a whole world that is waiting to be explored. My exploration of this world will continue in New York City this fall. Where will yours?

Even the Undertaker will be Sorry

Midway through this semester, as part of my special occasion speaking course, I was required to present a eulogy to my class. Oddly enough, it was my own eulogy. Talk about an eerie presentation. I did find, however, that such a presentation is good for the soul. It takes quite a bit of evaluation and projection to give such a speech, but more than that, it makes you think of the impact you are making and the lasting impression you are leaving on the world around you.

One of the best indications I ever got of the impact I was making was a couple summers ago when I volunteered as a Patriot Leader for freshman and transfer orientation. We were finishing our week-long summer training and it was tradition to take part in an activity called "Touch Someone." How it works is everyone sits around a circle with the chairs facing outward and their eyes closed. You can only open your eyes if you are chosen to enter the circle, and if you are (everyone had a chance), you touch someone on the shoulder if something the announcer said applied to that person. "Touch someone who always smells nice" or "Touch someone who has been a good friend" were options called out, among others, as inspirational songs played in the background. Yes, it may sound a little cheesy, but it's a brilliant way to demonstrate that people really are good at heart. I'm a firm believer in that.

Anyway, when I heard, "Touch someone who said the right thing to you at a time when you needed it most," I thought I've never done that. Surely no one will touch my shoulder. But much to my surprise, someone did. I'm not a big crier, but I must admit that touch opened the floodgate of my tears. To think that my words of encouragement, or maybe just words of endearment, meant that much to someone was heartwarming, to say the least. What's even more beautiful is that I will never know who that person was. It could have been any number of my fellow Patriot Leaders and that still gives me chills to this day. Just imagine the number of people you encounter who never mention that you have impacted their life in such a way that is unforgettable. That's what makes me tick. If I consciously make an effort to be a beacon of hope, to leave this world better than when I entered it, I figure my impact will be eternal. That's really the honest-to-God reason I want to be Miss Virginia and Miss America.

What I love about the Miss America Organization is that we are all young women seeking to make this world a better place. We set aside our pride and ulterior motives for the greater good of our communities. One of my favorite quotes is, "Let us endeavor so to live that when we come to die, even the undertaker will be sorry." That is what we seek to do, and I am so proud to be a member of the Miss Virginia Class of 2012. This past weekend we all gathered together in Roanoke for Workshop and I can say that I am impressed by and see Miss Virginia in each of my lovely sisters. I wouldn't trade these experiences for the world.

Someday when my eulogy is given for real, I hope the contributions I have made to society don't stray much from the ones I intend to make. If they do, I hope they far exceed my wildest dreams.

Miss Virginia Class of 2012