I'm half-thinking about creating a new blog entirely and calling it "The Lies of Motherhood," because every day I have to laugh at myself for thinking that this was going to be slightly more predictable and easier than it is.
Here are my thoughts of the day:
Lie #1 of Motherhood: You won't be able to leave your child's side for at least the first six months.
Ok, look it is hard for me to leave Abby for more than an hour or two. But any time I hear a mom say "Oh, I just enjoy being with him/her so much that I don't really need to have any time to myself," I throw up a little in my mouth. Stop. Just stop. You are a human being. And human beings need the occasional five-minute increments of silence (or, in my case, the occasional five-minute increments of listening to the car radio at a higher volume). Start being honest with yourself. Or, if you are a parent that truly feels this way...knock it off. You're making the rest of us look bad.
Furthermore, I get that there may be some insecurities associated with leaving the little peanut. In my case, I leave Abby with either my parents or my hubby's parents. All four people have had years upon years of experience raising kidlets. There's really no reason for me to fret when she's with them. So, am I a little anxious when I walk out the door? Sure. Do I tell myself to shut the !@#$ up and get myself a latte while I can? Absolutely. And do I enjoy every sip of that latte (as well as all of the noises that come along with making a latte)? You bet your gosh darn tookus I do. (Sorry, working on cleaning up the language before my peanut becomes a parrot.)
Lie #2 of Motherhood: Only I know what will calm down my child.
Again, I say "nay nay." Just the other day, while visiting Naomi (a good friend who has been a nanny for more kids than I can say), Crabigail was threatening to make a full-fledged appearance. Naomi scooped her up and started swinging her in a way that I've never tried, and her little eyes just lit up with delight. I logged that one away in the back of my brain for future reference.
Sure, Tim & I know Abby better than anyone else, and we're going to be able to tell by even the slightest cry what she's asking for (most days, that is). But when she's fussy, it's basically just a marathon of "Let's try this" or "Let's try that" moments until we finally find something that soothes the savage beast. I'm not too proud of a person to close the doors to possible soothing techniques for my kid, especially when I'm so new at this.
Lie #3 of Motherhood: Life before your child will seem so meaningless now.
I think about this one all the time. Now, on this one, I'm willing to fully admit that I may be of the minority opinion. But the truth is my life before was not meaningless at all, and I actually think of all the little moments and big accomplishments of the past with a high level of fondness in my heart. And my life now is so incredibly wonderful that I can't imagine it any differently. The point is - it's comparing apples and oranges. All of the joy, sadness, anxiety, and excitement that I felt in life has led me up to this point, and all of those life experiences are going to make me a better mother. I don't feel like I can shrug that off as meaningless. Furthermore, I would be a liar if I said I didn't miss certain parts of my pre-baby life. I miss being able to go out for drinks and hand my hubby the keys at the end of the night. I miss cooking dinner on a regular basis. I miss being able to spontaneously do anything. But that doesn't mean that I don't appreciate and love my life now!
I actually get somewhat frustrated when I hear people say that being a stay at home mom is harder than any other job on the planet for this same reason. Again - apples and oranges in my book. The level of exhaustion that I feel after a sleepless night and a restless day with my munchkin is so starkly different than the exhaustion I felt as a full-time graduate student who worked two jobs and picked up extra hours as a babysitter on the side. The level of stress from one lifestyle is not greater than the other because they aren't even comparable. I will say this, though - the rewards that you feel from the job of stay at home mom are so much greater than any reward I received from a business or non-profit organization.
Annnnnd that's all the time that the little one will allow me to have.
Friday, April 19, 2013
Friday, April 12, 2013
Caribou: A Eulogy
Well, until my daughter chooses to nap on a regular basis, there will be no regular blog postings. Sorry, avid readers!! (Bahaha...avid readers of my blog....)
I received some incredibly sad news the other day: The Caribou Coffee which I worked at and frequented for what felt like a lifetime will be permanently shutting its doors as of this Sunday at noon.
Let's be honest, Caribou was never exactly a stellar work environment when you viewed it from the "Does corporate take care of their underlings?" viewpoint. For starters, there were no breaks. Ever. How they wiggled around that whole legal issue was the whole "flexible employer" bit that they wrote into their handbook - "Hey, you can take your break whenever you want! We won't schedule you a break 'cause we don't want to hold you down like that. Aren't we awesome?!" Well, not quite, 'cause in what retail or food service position can you possibly find time to sit down and get some food in your system? No, avid readers, the only time you got a break was if you were a smoker - or when you worked with someone who you could trust behind the counter alone for more than five minutes. Secondly, Caribou always was looking for a way to dock your pay. Whether you decided to move up the corporate ladder (and therefore not receive tips), or stay a shift supervisor (and get cut in wages if you worked with another shift supervisor), corporate got really creative at unnecessarily pinching your pennies out of your pocket.
Now, I - unlike my friends and former coworkers - did not lose my job. I left my shift supervisor position at Caribou a while back when I got a position at Trader Joe's. I made the switch for the main motivator of any work-related decision: TJ's paid me a whole lot more, both in actual dolla dolla bills and in benefits. But I found myself constantly coming back to Caribou to visit and work on my homework for my graduate degree, and it wasn't just 'cause you got unlimited refills on coffee when you stuck around for hours at a time. It was all about the people. The Caribou that I worked at was very good at one thing in particular, and that was picking the best of the best people to work there. I truly enjoyed working there because I knew that I would always leave with a smile on my face. The employees were quirky, hilarious, hard-working, and (usually) highly intelligent.
And the customers? Well, there's always a couple that will get under your skin. I always joked with people that I would one day write a book called The Barista Chronicles, simply because 1.) You couldn't make the !@#$ up that I've seen and heard from people, and 2.) It's not like I worked at a bar - you couldn't blame the crazy on one too many shots.
Here's a fun example that, I swear to you, I will never forget as long as I live. It was a snowy day during the holiday season, so shopping was in full-force and there were a bunch of non-regulars in our store that wanted their large, white chocolate, peppermint mochas fifteen minutes ago. I was working with two newer employees, and we had a full lobby and a line halfway to the door. I'm working on register and the other two employees were doing a pretty good job at working a double person bar. Up walks a woman in her late-fifties. She was pretty put-together - long, white hair, make-up was on flawlessly, wearing a dress coat with a nicer purse. She put her purse on the counter and angrily spat her order at me, then huffed as I gave her the price of her drink with a big ol' smile on my face (sorry, I refuse to let grumpy customers make me grumpy...and besides, my happiness usually just peeved them off more, and I enjoyed that). She paid (and didn't tip), then moved to the pick-up counter. While I was taking the next customer's order, I heard her snap at my coworkers - "Could you hurry up please?! I have a baby in the car."
Now, it was snowing outside. Heavily. And this woman had four drinks in front of hers that had to be made. My two coworkers looked at me absolutely horrified. I told them to both get on register and I would take care of it - simply because I wouldn't take her crap. I KNEW she didn't have a baby with her - she just knew the magic words to get her froo-froo drink without having to wait. So, I quickly served up her beverage, and she said "Oh, I didn't want you to put me before anyone else." I responded curtly with "Well, I sure wouldn't want to potentially endanger a life because your drink took too long." She scooped her drink up and went to sit a high-top table with her husband. At no point did a baby come into the picture. What a shocker.
So, while I was out in the lobby, wiping down tables and refilling sugar canisters, the woman comes back up to me and barks -
"I just want to let you know that we are leaving, because I don't like sitting at a table that's so high that it makes me feel like I'm sitting on a perch."
"...Um, alright. Well, enjoy the rest of your day!"
"You know, you really should do something about all of these college students. Taking up tables all day with their books..."
*suppressed snort of laughter*
"I'm serious! You should ban them from your shop."
At this point, I just couldn't deal with it anymore. "Right. 'Cause that will work out great in a college town."
Like I said, you can't make this up.
But, there will also be the customers that I will never, ever forget because of how they touched my life. Like Hank - the highly intelligent, highly sarcastic, and all around amazing guy who ordered a small cup of coffee in his handmade mug (and the older the "sludge" at the bottom of the pot, the better). Hank is the kind of guy that you truly look forward to seeing at work, because you could choose the level of conversation you wanted to have. If you wanted a mindless chat about how much you couldn't stand your hours being slashed, you've got it. If you wanted an intellectual conversation about the polarization of the House and the Senate, you could pick his brain for hours. Or Tony - the regular who owned the Hallmark across the plaza. He would go out of his way to bring us balloons, flowers, or even chocolate, just because he appreciated our smiles at the start of his day.
All in all, the closing of Caribou is a forced closing of a wonderful chapter in my life:
When I look back on my life and I reflect on all of the nonsense I had to go thru while I sifted through my twenties, I will always, always remember the coffee shop and the Bou crew with nothing but the most profound fondness in my heart. I'm going to miss that place and people there terribly.
I received some incredibly sad news the other day: The Caribou Coffee which I worked at and frequented for what felt like a lifetime will be permanently shutting its doors as of this Sunday at noon.
Let's be honest, Caribou was never exactly a stellar work environment when you viewed it from the "Does corporate take care of their underlings?" viewpoint. For starters, there were no breaks. Ever. How they wiggled around that whole legal issue was the whole "flexible employer" bit that they wrote into their handbook - "Hey, you can take your break whenever you want! We won't schedule you a break 'cause we don't want to hold you down like that. Aren't we awesome?!" Well, not quite, 'cause in what retail or food service position can you possibly find time to sit down and get some food in your system? No, avid readers, the only time you got a break was if you were a smoker - or when you worked with someone who you could trust behind the counter alone for more than five minutes. Secondly, Caribou always was looking for a way to dock your pay. Whether you decided to move up the corporate ladder (and therefore not receive tips), or stay a shift supervisor (and get cut in wages if you worked with another shift supervisor), corporate got really creative at unnecessarily pinching your pennies out of your pocket.
Now, I - unlike my friends and former coworkers - did not lose my job. I left my shift supervisor position at Caribou a while back when I got a position at Trader Joe's. I made the switch for the main motivator of any work-related decision: TJ's paid me a whole lot more, both in actual dolla dolla bills and in benefits. But I found myself constantly coming back to Caribou to visit and work on my homework for my graduate degree, and it wasn't just 'cause you got unlimited refills on coffee when you stuck around for hours at a time. It was all about the people. The Caribou that I worked at was very good at one thing in particular, and that was picking the best of the best people to work there. I truly enjoyed working there because I knew that I would always leave with a smile on my face. The employees were quirky, hilarious, hard-working, and (usually) highly intelligent.
And the customers? Well, there's always a couple that will get under your skin. I always joked with people that I would one day write a book called The Barista Chronicles, simply because 1.) You couldn't make the !@#$ up that I've seen and heard from people, and 2.) It's not like I worked at a bar - you couldn't blame the crazy on one too many shots.
Here's a fun example that, I swear to you, I will never forget as long as I live. It was a snowy day during the holiday season, so shopping was in full-force and there were a bunch of non-regulars in our store that wanted their large, white chocolate, peppermint mochas fifteen minutes ago. I was working with two newer employees, and we had a full lobby and a line halfway to the door. I'm working on register and the other two employees were doing a pretty good job at working a double person bar. Up walks a woman in her late-fifties. She was pretty put-together - long, white hair, make-up was on flawlessly, wearing a dress coat with a nicer purse. She put her purse on the counter and angrily spat her order at me, then huffed as I gave her the price of her drink with a big ol' smile on my face (sorry, I refuse to let grumpy customers make me grumpy...and besides, my happiness usually just peeved them off more, and I enjoyed that). She paid (and didn't tip), then moved to the pick-up counter. While I was taking the next customer's order, I heard her snap at my coworkers - "Could you hurry up please?! I have a baby in the car."
Now, it was snowing outside. Heavily. And this woman had four drinks in front of hers that had to be made. My two coworkers looked at me absolutely horrified. I told them to both get on register and I would take care of it - simply because I wouldn't take her crap. I KNEW she didn't have a baby with her - she just knew the magic words to get her froo-froo drink without having to wait. So, I quickly served up her beverage, and she said "Oh, I didn't want you to put me before anyone else." I responded curtly with "Well, I sure wouldn't want to potentially endanger a life because your drink took too long." She scooped her drink up and went to sit a high-top table with her husband. At no point did a baby come into the picture. What a shocker.
So, while I was out in the lobby, wiping down tables and refilling sugar canisters, the woman comes back up to me and barks -
"I just want to let you know that we are leaving, because I don't like sitting at a table that's so high that it makes me feel like I'm sitting on a perch."
"...Um, alright. Well, enjoy the rest of your day!"
"You know, you really should do something about all of these college students. Taking up tables all day with their books..."
*suppressed snort of laughter*
"I'm serious! You should ban them from your shop."
At this point, I just couldn't deal with it anymore. "Right. 'Cause that will work out great in a college town."
Like I said, you can't make this up.
But, there will also be the customers that I will never, ever forget because of how they touched my life. Like Hank - the highly intelligent, highly sarcastic, and all around amazing guy who ordered a small cup of coffee in his handmade mug (and the older the "sludge" at the bottom of the pot, the better). Hank is the kind of guy that you truly look forward to seeing at work, because you could choose the level of conversation you wanted to have. If you wanted a mindless chat about how much you couldn't stand your hours being slashed, you've got it. If you wanted an intellectual conversation about the polarization of the House and the Senate, you could pick his brain for hours. Or Tony - the regular who owned the Hallmark across the plaza. He would go out of his way to bring us balloons, flowers, or even chocolate, just because he appreciated our smiles at the start of his day.
All in all, the closing of Caribou is a forced closing of a wonderful chapter in my life:
- Caribou was the first place I went to when my husband deployed to Afghanistan, because I knew Joe and Alex would be there to give me a hug, let me awkwardly cry, and make me a kick-ass, super-fatty cup of hot chocolate.
- Lauren and I shared many beers at the BWW's across the street after long closes, 'cause we knew we could trust each other enough to bitch about work just long enough so it would feel good, but then move on to new topics quick enough where we could leave the night on a fantastic note.
- Kevin and I shared way, way too many awkward laughs behind the counter while discussing the most horrific B-movies we had ever seen (followed by in-depth conversations about religion and history).
- Greg...well, it always amazed me that Greg never got fired. Work was just way too damn fun when he was around. Between hiding timers for the next shift to have to find, freezing peoples' tips (I think our buddy Ryan even put some in jello at one point)...there was no end to the madness.
- Jan had a way of reminding me that you could be polite to people without taking any of their crap, and I loved every minute I worked with her.
When I look back on my life and I reflect on all of the nonsense I had to go thru while I sifted through my twenties, I will always, always remember the coffee shop and the Bou crew with nothing but the most profound fondness in my heart. I'm going to miss that place and people there terribly.
Friday, March 15, 2013
I miss blogging terribly
Realistically, I think at this point I just kind of miss "me time." SO MUCH has changed since the last time I even looked at my blog, and so much of it is absolutely wonderful, but it doesn't change the fact that I greet the setting of the sun with nothing but exhaustion and thoughts of my head hitting the pillow, nothing more.
On a side note, does anyone have any idea how to change my primary email account to log into blogspot? I haven't used the email that's associated with this blog in a ridiculously long time.
Well, rather than getting into a personal blog about what's different and how, I thought I'd start off with something fun. A friend, Rakhi, tagged me in one of these fun lil' "answer 11 questions" blog. I thought it'd be a good introduction back into the swing of things while my little peanut is napping. So - here we go!
I'm taking creative liberty here and using a fictional character from a TV show. I'm currently all about the character of Maggie in "The Walking Dead." I'll do my absolute best to break down her layers of awesome so you can truly understand why I wouldn't want to be anyone but Maggie:
Funny enough, my mom and I were just talking about this today. Currently, my biggest pet peeve is people who I refer to as "one-uppers." I dealt with one-uppers a lot when I was pregnant. I didn't have the worst pregnancy on the planet, but I certainly didn't have the easiest pregnancy, either. And my delivery was so. freaking. awful. Now, women in general always ask how you're feeling when you're pregnant or immediately after your delivery - it's a beautiful community of compassion and commiseration. However, it's littered with women who always have to say how they were better/worse off than you.
"How are you feeling, Pam?"
"Not too bad. The sciatica thing is for the birds, but I'm getting through it."
"You have no idea what it's like to have a rough pregnancy. Why, when I was pregnant...etc etc"
"You're getting close to the big day, Pam! Are you ready for it?"
"Oh my gosh, yes. I'm so uncomfortable."
"You know, you should just be happy that you're pregnant. When I was trying to get pregnant...etc etc"
So, in conclusion, people who ask you how you're doing, and you give them either a positive or negative response, and they immediately turn the subject to how they are SOOOO much more positive or negative than you - those people drive me absolutely batshit crazy.
Oh, and people who text while driving. Effing hate that.
On a side note, does anyone have any idea how to change my primary email account to log into blogspot? I haven't used the email that's associated with this blog in a ridiculously long time.
Well, rather than getting into a personal blog about what's different and how, I thought I'd start off with something fun. A friend, Rakhi, tagged me in one of these fun lil' "answer 11 questions" blog. I thought it'd be a good introduction back into the swing of things while my little peanut is napping. So - here we go!
1) What is your greatest gift?
This is a no brainer to me. My family. Hands down. I find myself thanking God for my husband and my daughter throughout the course of the entire day. His ability to make me laugh and his overwhelming support and love on a 24/7 basis, and her ability to melt my heart and transform my whole perspective on life within the blink of an eye...it's truly overwhelming. Plus, just to add to the "gift" factor, we were told over a year ago that we probably wouldn't be able to have kids when I was diagnosed with PCOS. What a wonderful shock when we found out we were pregnant!!
2) What makes you joyful?
Oh there are so, so many good answers to this question. True joy for me, though, comes from honest to goodness laughter. I'm talking hand on the belly, tears in the eyes laughter. I have a few friends that have a direct line to my funny bone, and a few trusted TV shows that I can usually turn to...but honestly, the awkward moments in life are the ones that just bring so much unexpected laughter into my everyday meanderings.
Example: Yesterday, hubby, baby and I were sitting patiently in our car, waiting for our pizza at the best local joint to finish cookin'. Out of nowhere, a woman in her mid-to-late 50's (and thoroughly spaced out, might I add) came up to the driver's side of the car and proceeded to try to open it and get in. We didn't want to make her feel like an idiot, but, well, it was our car, and we had been sitting in it for quite some time. So we chose the path of awkward silence while we stared at her, hoping that the moment would pass quickly if we stood absolutely still (because, apparently, women in their mid-to-late 50's are like T-Rexes, and their vision is based on movement). She finally noticed us, and continued to stare into the car with this look of pure, utter confusion on her face, as if to say "This is supposed to be my car, and it's not, and you're in it, and I don't know why." After a few more moments of what can only be described as "tension," she finally wandered off and got into her vehicle (at least I hope it was her vehicle). Good point to add in: her vehicle was a grey SUV. We drive a black Ford Focus. Just sayin'.
3) What is one blog you faithfully read?
Um, well, I don't really faithfully read any blogs. There are a few blogs that friends write that I'll read through when I think of it, and pinterest has me hooked on various cooking blogs...but that's truly about it. I lead a non-exciting blog life.
4) What is your favorite book and why?
Throw me on a desert island with enough prep time to grab food, water, a journal, and only one book, and without hesitation, I will grab my beaten up copy of To Kill A Mockingbird. I have read this book more times than I can count, and the reason that I love the book more than any other is because as I grow and change in a variety of ways, so, too, does my perspective on the characters of the book. It was incredible to me how I related to each character more or less depending on what stage of life I was in...Scout, Jem, Atticus, even obnoxious Dill to a certain extent.
When baby girl is old enough for her first honest to goodness chapter book with some meat to it, I will give her a copy of To Kill A Mockingbird, and I can only hope that she'll love it as much as I have throughout the years.
5) If you had to play a fictional character in a movie, who would it be and why?
- Her ability to swallow her pride (after a while) and recognize when she's wrong. She still allows herself a decent amount of time for standing her ground in stubborn, sassy fashion.
- Her simplicity. She's a farm girl that still has a sense of style that I really like.
- Her ability to speak her mind to her family and boyfriend without reservation.
- Last, but certainly not least, she is a BAD ASS. Takin' out zombies and standing her own personal ground with the living - that's what I'm talkin' about!!
6) If you had to eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?
I love Mexican food, particularly nachos with either ground beef, pulled chicken, or pulled pork. And lots of cheese. With extra jalapenos. And sour cream. Oh my gosh, I'm so hungry.
7) If you could hire help for one thing in your life, what would it be?
Cleaning out my car. And I'm not talking about just picking up my trash. I want White Lightning (my beloved white Ford Focus) detailed on a bi-weekly basis. And I want an air freshener that smells like someone just cracked a bag of gummy bears.
8) How are you Christ's hands and feet in the world today?
I actively seek to be open-minded and compassionate to each individual that I meet. I choose to listen and comfort even those who I strongly disagree with. This doesn't just apply to strangers. There's a very short list of people that I truly don't care for, but even when it comes to those "select" few, I pray for patience and acknowledge their feelings and opinions. It may not seem like the biggest way to bring the Kingdom of Heaven to the Earth, but I feel like it's the first step that we could all take to try and make life a bit more peaceful and humane.
9) What is your biggest pet peeve?
Funny enough, my mom and I were just talking about this today. Currently, my biggest pet peeve is people who I refer to as "one-uppers." I dealt with one-uppers a lot when I was pregnant. I didn't have the worst pregnancy on the planet, but I certainly didn't have the easiest pregnancy, either. And my delivery was so. freaking. awful. Now, women in general always ask how you're feeling when you're pregnant or immediately after your delivery - it's a beautiful community of compassion and commiseration. However, it's littered with women who always have to say how they were better/worse off than you.
"How are you feeling, Pam?"
"Not too bad. The sciatica thing is for the birds, but I'm getting through it."
"You have no idea what it's like to have a rough pregnancy. Why, when I was pregnant...etc etc"
"You're getting close to the big day, Pam! Are you ready for it?"
"Oh my gosh, yes. I'm so uncomfortable."
"You know, you should just be happy that you're pregnant. When I was trying to get pregnant...etc etc"
So, in conclusion, people who ask you how you're doing, and you give them either a positive or negative response, and they immediately turn the subject to how they are SOOOO much more positive or negative than you - those people drive me absolutely batshit crazy.
Oh, and people who text while driving. Effing hate that.
10) What is your greatest fear?
After losing my Papa last September, I've discovered that the loss of my closest loved ones is something that absolutely terrifies me. Specifically - every time there's talk of another potential deployment for my hubby, my heart drops into the pit of my stomach. Take every material possession that I own. My house, my car, my clothes, even my beloved copy of To Kill A Mockingbird that I mentioned earlier...none of that would phase me as much as the loss of another loved one in my life, particularly the loss of my husband.
11) When you are having a bad day, what is one thing that is sure to turn it around?
Any level of sweetness from the hubby is always wonderful, and I've quickly discovered that my baby girl's smiles will melt away any and all frustration and anxiety that I've been feeling during recent sleepless nights and crying spells. That's an obvious answer, though. The least obvious answers would be: a super hot bubble bath with a glass of wine and a good book, a nice long car ride with a hot beverage of some kind, a rum & coke while watching South Park reruns, or playing board games with friends.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
The Terrifying Truth About Graduating (Again)
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.
...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.
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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