I want to move, but I don’t want to leave my family.

I feel like I’m living a mediocre life, but I don’t know what else to do.

I want to dream, but I’m kinda scared of dreaming. Every time I do that, I fail.

Ironically, this has seemed to be the story of this overachiever’s life as of late.

Afraid…always freaking afraid.

Afraid to take steps ahead. Not exactly sure where I want to go. (Well, I have an idea now, but that’s only of very recently.)

I’ve always had dreams of being larger than life, or at least larger than what I can currently see. I still have that dream. It hasn’t really gone anywhere. I want my name in the limelight. I want to be the best at something. I just want…something; something greater than what I have right now and something greater than anyone around me has ever done.

Well, that’s kinda hard since my cousin is the great Floyd Mayweather, Jr., but though our families are close, I’m not that close to that side of my family beyond my first cousins, aunts and uncles. So, in my world, his fame doesn’t dictate my decisions. But, as usual, I digressed.

Let’s get back on track. Journey with me as I try to unfold this state of – well lack of – progression. Frankly, most of the journey has been documented here.

1) Work disappointment. Two years ago, I was very abruptly laid off from my job during the middle of great forward movement.

2) I was in the middle of an emotionally abusive relationship at the same time.

3) I feel like I failed miserably at RRP Marketing. Between not feeling like I was “doing it right,” stressing over clients, and fighting for money from clients made me call it quits. I was no longer feeling it. Lots of compliments. Not a lot of income. I felt like a bafoon in front of my friends and a fake to those I was working with to be honest.

4) I felt very discouraged at my current employer to the point where I asked my boss to go part-time. I was just not fulfilled and felt I had so much more to offer to the world. (I don’t do well when I don’t feel like I’m being challenged…and the paycheck was good.)

5) In the relationship realm, the struggle is real. The stuff I go through with guys has been ridiculous. I’ve had one person disappear and another call me the week after a breakup for sex. If you know me, you’ll know…I can have my moments, but to think you’re going to use me…I’m not about that life. I am too good for that. (Ladies and gents, there are times when it’s okay to remind yourself you are too good for some things.) And for the one who just disappeared, now that just caught me off guard. Talk about being embarrassed.

So the desire to keep pressing has been a bit disconcerting. Frankly, after some of the things I went through, I just needed a break. And the break was good.

But now I think it’s time to get back on the bike and start riding. Start dreaming and pressing toward those goals. That’s what makes my world goes ’round. It’s what makes me excited. Being an overachiever is what makes me tick.

Being laid back was cool for a while, but it’s time for Gina P. to come back and take this world by storm. (That’s the sassy, don’t give two craps in the most positive way you can think, hilariously fun-loving, Gina). And I’m gonna do it.

I’m about to have fun on this journey again.

Watch out friends. Goal-setting, anyone?

Stay true,

Mission: Bring hope to the hopeless.
Vision: Eliminate “I can’t”

I am Regina…Regina Patterson. I have a vision. A goal. A yearning in my soul to find a bit of solace – and even more empowerment – on this fictional, yet so real topic of race.

Fictional because the idea of race is 100% made up. Yet, realistic because it’s the very means that divides what could be a beautiful people.

It’s not just a story of the African-American plight. Or the overtaking of the aborigines of our region. It’s more than the struggle of the hispanic and latino culture. It’s more than coming to terms with multiculturalism. And it’s not even all about “the man.”

It’s a story of the human race – a fallen human race. It’s happened since biblical days. Moses and the Egyptians ring a bell?

It’s a story that we’ve tried to wrap our  brains around. One that others have cried over. And one that others have acted and reacted in and out of an insane amount of anger, hurt and vengeance.

It’s a story of lies reinstated to make one group feel powerful, while stepping on the backs of other…or even worse, berating others

It’s a story that comes up in conversation – oh too often – in my circles, because, my circles are indeed less European influenced and highly African-American indulged outside of work. Outside of the real or virtual four walls of work,I can put down my political correctness and pick up my emotions and logic and address the issue with heart and any ounce of reason I can fathom. I can be unapologetically Regina.

I can voice my woes, while simultaneously holding others accountable for hurtful comments; comments that hurt others as well as themselves.

I’m not only in it for the venting. I’m in it for the “solutioning.” If all you want to do is vent or spew venom, please miss me with that. That hurts my soul – and personally speaking – only causes confusion. And frankly, I respect you a less than I did a day before because you’re no longer helping the problem in totality. Instead, you, my friend are part of the problem.

This has been yearning in my soul for quite a bit now – to the point that I’ve considered going back to school to study my culture and how can I make a difference. I think, “what difference could I make if I were, Dr. Regina Patterson. What if I committed myself to a scholarly focus to African-American studies. How, then would I feel about the issue at hand. How then could I change the world?

How could I make my brothers of African heritage feel empowered? How can I help my sisters know yes, the struggle is indeed real, but it’s so much deeper, and it’s not an option to leave our brothers hanging or give our babies wings to fly well before they’re ready to go out and take this cruel world by storm?

How can I let you know that being black is not equivalent to under-education and ignorance, but it’s a place of not only power, but also intelligence? How can I let you know that the streets are not your only option and that you don’t have to bump your head on the before deciding you need to make a change?

How can I let my brothers know how much we love them? And that’s why we don’t leave them, despite…? Despite what society tells us about them. Despite what they believe about themselves. Even despite their literal and figurative outcries of helplessness and hopelessness.

I have a yearning. A yearning of empowerment without intimidation. A yearning of equality with the right to be totally who we are and who we were called and purposed to be. We will never be the same – whether we’re descendents of the same ethnic background or from totally different diasporas. And that’s the beauty of it all – yet where so much pain lies across so many lines.

Will you join me in this journey? A journey to learn the truth. To understand not only the plight of the current day, but also from whence it came. And finally, who you really are as a person – black, white, hispanic, latino, asian or a native of this land.

I beg of you. Please join me and let’s make a difference together.

(Really…if the ASPCA can have this much passion about dogs. I’m going to go on a limb and say the plight of humanity and the value of each individual’s life is even more important. So please, join me.)

With love,


“Am I good at something other than being smart?” That’s the gist of the question I asked my mom this weekend after I mulled over one thing I wanted to be really good; you know that one thing that people fawn over that you

Proud alum
Proud alum

wished you had the amazing ability to do. For me, that one thing is singing. I’m better than average but not as good as great.

It doesn’t matter that I’m a great dancer, a great writer or even a great leader. And it doesn’t matter that I’m dependable, curious, outspoken, opinionated, a bit crafty…or the MULTITUDE of other talents and gifts I possess. I, in pure Gina fashion, went and found the one thing that I’m not good at (or at least the one thing I really care about.)


To begin, I love attention. And it’s not that I don’t get enough of it. Let’s just blame the overt and conspicuous attention-seeking behaviors to an extreme amount of positive reinforcement, oldest child, youngest grandchild, only girl, syndrome. – Okay…I’m neither an only child nor the youngest grandchild anymore, but going 6 years as an only child and the next grandchild being my brother, there was a fair share of brat molding going on. But I digress.

I have to be the best. I don’t like to be in the middle or only mediocre. If I like something and feel it’s worth my time investment, I feel like I have to be the best at it. I was the same way about basketball. And I’m not sure there’s any good to this; not just because you become a haughty little brat, but also because you’re consistently setting yourself up for disappointment. It’s great to reach for the stars, but when its unhealthy, the mirror is telling me there’s room for

I want to be seen as glamorous or sexy or something like that. And when is smart ever any of those things?

Smart individuals are portrayed as societal outcasts who only become acceptable once they have been given an external makeover… [insert sarcasm]And even if they are smart without the makeover, they already have to be sexy…or some other fantasy Hollywood puts into our mind.

But the number one reason boils down to the age-old chiché, the grass is always greener…well, you fill in the blank. It’s because we possess a ton of amazing qualities, but we tend to hone in on those things that we are not. Like I said above…who cares about the multitude of talents and gifts I have? And who cares about the brain that I’ve been given? I had to go and focus on the things I wasn’t.

I was happy to hear my mom reinforce the fact that I was a good dancer without prompting. She even said I was a better writer than dancer…though it took a little nudging to help her see that my type of writing wasn’t just book smart (smile).

Even if she didn’t reinforce those two things – especially dance – it may have been a blow to my ego, but it wouldn’t have changed my reality. And in reality, I’d never give up my brain for the ability to sing. I love the gifts and talents I’ve been given, and there’s no reason to be greedy, right?

Moral of the story: You probably don’t want that other thing as bad as you think you do.