Ah, cap and gown, we meet again. Third time is the charm, right? ...Right? *cricket chirps*
...You hear all of these guarantees about going just a little further in school. "You'll land a job easier." "The whole 'five years or more experience' on job postings will be null and void once you have your master's." "You may as well go back to school, because no one is hiring now anyways. Don't worry about taking on more unpaid internships."
Here's the truth: There's no longer a secret-ish recipe for employment success. There's no set amount of degrees, internships, or quantities of ramen noodles consumed that will instantly land you the job that you envisioned when you walked across that stage to finally (finally) receive your diploma. You're going to get out into the real world and look (and look...and look...) for that just-right-opportunity, and you're going to have to put in your networking and door-knocking time, just like every other person.
Don't get me wrong - working towards my master's degree has been one of the most challenging and rewarding experiences for me. It went beyond the classroom, though. For starters, there were some courses that were more rewarding than others (which you'll find in any program at any university), but each class had its own unique opportunity for me to broaden my horizons. Whether it was re-learning how to work in a group setting (regardless of your level of expertise, you will always be stuck in groups where someone is not fully pulling their weight)how to network properly and maintain relationships with professionals (*tip* Four words: fancy clothes and beer), or how to pull yourself through a project that doesn't interest you in the slightest - I learned a lot of valuable lessons on how to proceed forward in the working world.
Aside from the various educational moments, a whole lot of "life" happened in the two and a half years that I was in the program. A moment of self-pride here: I learned how to pull myself through just about anything. I had an unbelievable amount of support from family and friends, but when it came down to it, my master's degree was the moment where I had to decide what level of success I demanded of myself.
So what is the terrifying truth of graduating again? The economy is still daunting, and most people don't want to give my resume even an initial glance. I'm an intelligent and hard working young woman, but I'm still young, the cardinal sin in the professional world. The piece of paper with "Master of Public Administration" written across the top and the honor cords around my neck will not determine anything for me. Only I can decide where everything will go from here.
Terrifying. Empowering, but terrifying.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Sunday, March 18, 2012
A Year of Change
My life has always moved at a stunningly fast pace, which is a cause for concern for both friends and families. There are days (weeks, months, years) where I disappear off of the map entirely, only to reappear out of the blue, gasping for a breath of fresh air and a cold drink. I'll stay for a few minutes, just long enough to remind myself of how much I love and miss the important people in my life, and then I'll force myself to jump back into the chaos of life and to keep my focus on the light at the end of the tunnel.
This year's pace hasn't altered one bit from the standard. The main difference is I'm at the finish line for so many different aspects of my life that I have to concentrate with all of my might to not lose momentum - all while kick-starting the next phase, which includes a whole lot of work and worries.
My marriage to Tim has started a whole new chapter of my life on so many levels that I couldn't even begin to explain all of the joy (and complexities) that comes along with it. The newest development has been house hunting, which is tremendously exciting. The start of a new life in a new home...it's hard to really wrap my head around it.
Grad school is finally coming to a close. Two long years of continuous studying, presentations, group work, and essays - all coming to a sudden conclusion, complete with a peacock blue tassel and hood, honor cords, and fancy piece of paper. I look back on all of the people that have influenced me and pushed me in the right direction over the course of both my undergrad and grad degree, and I'm overwhelmed with gratitude. I don't even know how to fully say "thank you" to these people.
Work opportunities aren't exactly presenting themselves like I had anticipated, but I've made the switch from the Bou to Trader Joe's, only because of the increase in pay and potential "plan B" management opportunities. It's been a bittersweet transition. I'm looking forward to meeting new people and experiencing something different, but over the past four years, the Bou surpassed a "workplace" and became a little oasis for me when things got rough.
Moral of the story: transitions are terrifyingly beautiful.
This year's pace hasn't altered one bit from the standard. The main difference is I'm at the finish line for so many different aspects of my life that I have to concentrate with all of my might to not lose momentum - all while kick-starting the next phase, which includes a whole lot of work and worries.
My marriage to Tim has started a whole new chapter of my life on so many levels that I couldn't even begin to explain all of the joy (and complexities) that comes along with it. The newest development has been house hunting, which is tremendously exciting. The start of a new life in a new home...it's hard to really wrap my head around it.
Grad school is finally coming to a close. Two long years of continuous studying, presentations, group work, and essays - all coming to a sudden conclusion, complete with a peacock blue tassel and hood, honor cords, and fancy piece of paper. I look back on all of the people that have influenced me and pushed me in the right direction over the course of both my undergrad and grad degree, and I'm overwhelmed with gratitude. I don't even know how to fully say "thank you" to these people.
Work opportunities aren't exactly presenting themselves like I had anticipated, but I've made the switch from the Bou to Trader Joe's, only because of the increase in pay and potential "plan B" management opportunities. It's been a bittersweet transition. I'm looking forward to meeting new people and experiencing something different, but over the past four years, the Bou surpassed a "workplace" and became a little oasis for me when things got rough.
Moral of the story: transitions are terrifyingly beautiful.
Friday, March 16, 2012
Signs that I'm turning into the crazy cat lady
1. I have two of them. And I still refer to my mom & dad's cat as "my cat." So three cats. I feel like somewhere, off in the distance, there's some prophet looking into a glass ball, saying ominously "It begins..."
2. When describing my two cats, rather than explaining them as "an all black cat" and a "calico," I talk about them as if they have distinct characteristics and personality traits, like a person. "My one cat's name is Goblin, and he's morbidly obese. My other cat's name is Gypsy, and she's the bane of my existence."
3. I talk to my cats in two ways. The first way is a simple you-meow-I-meow conversation. The second is more of a reprimanding...I have to continuously remind both of my cats that they're not human beings. "Stop sitting at the table. And don't sit on the table either." "Potato chips aren't for cats." "STOP TRYING TO DRINK OUT OF MY GLASS. YOU'RE NOT A PERSON." Either way, they're used to me acknowledging them constantly, because Moses forbid I'm on the phone with someone, they'll follow me around and cry to the heavens until I turn around and shout at them (which, in their cat brains, is the equivalent of me basking in their feline glory).
4. The cats did something ridiculous? Break something? Run head-first into a piece of furniture that has always, always been in the same spot? Don't worry - I'll be sure to start the conversation with my husband by saying "You will not believe what your cats did today."
5. My inhumane schedule prevents me from having a real social life, so sometimes my cat stories are the only ones that have any level of humor to them. People don't really appreciate them. "Goblin was drinking water the other day, looked up at me, and being the idiot he is, wanted to meow and drink at the same time. So he meowed, and all of the water that he forgot to swallow fell out of his mouth and went all over the ground. Then he looked at it, as if he didn't know where it came from." *cricket chirps*
6. I wrote a blog post about my cats. Case in point.
2. When describing my two cats, rather than explaining them as "an all black cat" and a "calico," I talk about them as if they have distinct characteristics and personality traits, like a person. "My one cat's name is Goblin, and he's morbidly obese. My other cat's name is Gypsy, and she's the bane of my existence."
3. I talk to my cats in two ways. The first way is a simple you-meow-I-meow conversation. The second is more of a reprimanding...I have to continuously remind both of my cats that they're not human beings. "Stop sitting at the table. And don't sit on the table either." "Potato chips aren't for cats." "STOP TRYING TO DRINK OUT OF MY GLASS. YOU'RE NOT A PERSON." Either way, they're used to me acknowledging them constantly, because Moses forbid I'm on the phone with someone, they'll follow me around and cry to the heavens until I turn around and shout at them (which, in their cat brains, is the equivalent of me basking in their feline glory).
4. The cats did something ridiculous? Break something? Run head-first into a piece of furniture that has always, always been in the same spot? Don't worry - I'll be sure to start the conversation with my husband by saying "You will not believe what your cats did today."
5. My inhumane schedule prevents me from having a real social life, so sometimes my cat stories are the only ones that have any level of humor to them. People don't really appreciate them. "Goblin was drinking water the other day, looked up at me, and being the idiot he is, wanted to meow and drink at the same time. So he meowed, and all of the water that he forgot to swallow fell out of his mouth and went all over the ground. Then he looked at it, as if he didn't know where it came from." *cricket chirps*
6. I wrote a blog post about my cats. Case in point.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Wedding Planning: The Ultimate Lenten Challenge
Background note: I'm already a married woman. Tim and I decided in October of 2011 that we wanted to commit to each other marriage before he had to deploy to Afghanistan. We quickly planned the whole thing (6 days, to be specific), met at the Justice of Peace with two friends and our parents, and said our vows. Thirteen days later, he was on a plane heading across the world. He's home, safe and sound (thank You, God), and we decided to plan a day to celebrate the Sacrament of Marriage at my home parish, along with a proper celebration with our friends and family.
Ladies and gents, take my advice - just get married at the JOP and leave it at that. Or go to your home parish and wed secretly with only God, the Priest, and your folks present. Plan an after-party barbeque, and leave it at that. Because this whole wedding planning thing will drive you to drink.
I've found that it's really easy to let the materialistic culture of a wedding consume and cloud my mind, when really this is an intensely personal, yet public moment of love, trust, and faith between two individuals. It has been such a struggle wrenching my mind from the stress of what the hall will look like and what decorations I should purchase or rent, which is really shocking for me because I am by no means a materialistic. I'm not the type of person to sit online for hours and look at the different things that I want to buy, what will make me look "unique," and how many hours I'll need to work to afford these things that, on any other day, I would care nothing about.
But, to be frank, this is the most pressure I've ever been under in my life. The wedding is, in theory, a direct reflection of the couple's love, the parents' support of the couple, and the overall creativity of the bride.
I can hear family members and friends now - "It's your day - we just want you to be happy!" I have a whole plethora of issues with this statement. For starters, it's not my day. It's a day to celebrate the friendship, love, and commitment that my husband and I share. I refuse to give into the temptation of "This is what I've dreamed about since I was a little girl, and therefore, we're going to do it this way." Don't get me wrong - compromise on some issues really hasn't been my forte. The wedding shower in particular has been the biggest battle. Meshing what I have in my brain as the ideal day with what my in-laws are expecting has been so difficult and frustrating. It's only through the power of proper breathing and prayer that I've been able to take a step back and remind myself that, in the grand scheme of things, the wedding shower is a small dot on the spectrum of life that Tim and I will be spending together.
Furthermore, the wedding is celebrating the fact that our families have all shown us what it means to love, how to cherish one another, how to stay committed 'til death do us part. At the end of the day, it's not about the centerpieces, the chair covers, the food, the DJ, or the dress. The thought process, in my opinion, should be "My family taught me how to love. My belief in a loving God has expanded my capacity to love. I love you that much and then some. I'm with you for life, no matter what it brings." So, because my family and his family play such a huge role in this equation, they deserve a certain level of participation and say in how the day will progress.
...I just have to continually remind myself of that as I pour over menu after menu for restaurants that are potential wedding shower sites. Two more hours, and I'll have reached the socially-acceptable time to pour myself a rum and coke.
Ladies and gents, take my advice - just get married at the JOP and leave it at that. Or go to your home parish and wed secretly with only God, the Priest, and your folks present. Plan an after-party barbeque, and leave it at that. Because this whole wedding planning thing will drive you to drink.
I've found that it's really easy to let the materialistic culture of a wedding consume and cloud my mind, when really this is an intensely personal, yet public moment of love, trust, and faith between two individuals. It has been such a struggle wrenching my mind from the stress of what the hall will look like and what decorations I should purchase or rent, which is really shocking for me because I am by no means a materialistic. I'm not the type of person to sit online for hours and look at the different things that I want to buy, what will make me look "unique," and how many hours I'll need to work to afford these things that, on any other day, I would care nothing about.
But, to be frank, this is the most pressure I've ever been under in my life. The wedding is, in theory, a direct reflection of the couple's love, the parents' support of the couple, and the overall creativity of the bride.
I can hear family members and friends now - "It's your day - we just want you to be happy!" I have a whole plethora of issues with this statement. For starters, it's not my day. It's a day to celebrate the friendship, love, and commitment that my husband and I share. I refuse to give into the temptation of "This is what I've dreamed about since I was a little girl, and therefore, we're going to do it this way." Don't get me wrong - compromise on some issues really hasn't been my forte. The wedding shower in particular has been the biggest battle. Meshing what I have in my brain as the ideal day with what my in-laws are expecting has been so difficult and frustrating. It's only through the power of proper breathing and prayer that I've been able to take a step back and remind myself that, in the grand scheme of things, the wedding shower is a small dot on the spectrum of life that Tim and I will be spending together.
Furthermore, the wedding is celebrating the fact that our families have all shown us what it means to love, how to cherish one another, how to stay committed 'til death do us part. At the end of the day, it's not about the centerpieces, the chair covers, the food, the DJ, or the dress. The thought process, in my opinion, should be "My family taught me how to love. My belief in a loving God has expanded my capacity to love. I love you that much and then some. I'm with you for life, no matter what it brings." So, because my family and his family play such a huge role in this equation, they deserve a certain level of participation and say in how the day will progress.
...I just have to continually remind myself of that as I pour over menu after menu for restaurants that are potential wedding shower sites. Two more hours, and I'll have reached the socially-acceptable time to pour myself a rum and coke.
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