All of this "Occupy (location)" business has really given me the opportunity for some thought. The concerns of the self-claimed 99% are valid, but the approach is confusing. Signs and a large sit-in (or sit-on) and large amounts of media attention bring light to their concerns, but I fail to see how it will move them towards being resolved. I have heard accounts where police are arresting people by the hundreds, and the process is streamlined for convenience of the officers.
I think this movement, where people are placing themselves on one end or another, is missing the point. Or rather, The Point. Capitals t and p. The movement is protesting inequality, and yet we divide ourselves across economic lines and point fingers. Those who have worker hard and suffer are on one end, and those who have easier economic burdens are on another.
I like to think that I'm part of the 100%. I live as a human being within our agreed society. I pay taxes. I have a job. I have dreams.
So where do you want to be? The one, ninety-nine, or one-hundred percent?
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Instantly Adult
I feel old.
This summer I turned twenty while doing an internship with a government organization. I know, twenty isn't that old. However, the number itself isn't what is making the impact.
Firstly, I drove myself back to school this semester. For the last two years I have never had my own car on campus, and I honestly believed I would not be able to make the nine hour drive from home to school. It's boring, but apparently more than doable.
After spending the summer doing a 9-5 (or longer, depending on the day), working a very limited number of hours a week (15) at school seems like a bit of a joke. In order to feel a bit more normal, I accepted a paid tutoring position with the math department. Working as a group tutor and an individual tutor, that adds at least another 5 hours a week to my workload. Slightly more normal.
One thing that constantly amazes me now is the amount of complaining I hear. I had heard it before, but now I actually listened. For a lot of very privileged people, we sure managed to complain about a lot of insignificant things. And an awful lot of them turned out to be very first-world problems. Huh. On a typical day, I tend to hear at least one complaint about all of the following:
I get asked for advice a lot. People seem to think I know what I'm doing - trust me, I really don't. I am just really good at faking competence. I get asked about things in which I truly have no competency - I think it's a family curse, actually. I hope I can live up to the challenge, and perhaps help some of my cohorts to feel a little older than twelve.
This summer I turned twenty while doing an internship with a government organization. I know, twenty isn't that old. However, the number itself isn't what is making the impact.
Firstly, I drove myself back to school this semester. For the last two years I have never had my own car on campus, and I honestly believed I would not be able to make the nine hour drive from home to school. It's boring, but apparently more than doable.
After spending the summer doing a 9-5 (or longer, depending on the day), working a very limited number of hours a week (15) at school seems like a bit of a joke. In order to feel a bit more normal, I accepted a paid tutoring position with the math department. Working as a group tutor and an individual tutor, that adds at least another 5 hours a week to my workload. Slightly more normal.
One thing that constantly amazes me now is the amount of complaining I hear. I had heard it before, but now I actually listened. For a lot of very privileged people, we sure managed to complain about a lot of insignificant things. And an awful lot of them turned out to be very first-world problems. Huh. On a typical day, I tend to hear at least one complaint about all of the following:
- Homework
- Exams
- Professor's teaching style
- That green thing in the pasta
- Lack of free time (see first two complaints)
- The significant other (there are too many variations on this theme to list)
- Lack of _________________ (Eg. sleep, food, money, etc...)
I get asked for advice a lot. People seem to think I know what I'm doing - trust me, I really don't. I am just really good at faking competence. I get asked about things in which I truly have no competency - I think it's a family curse, actually. I hope I can live up to the challenge, and perhaps help some of my cohorts to feel a little older than twelve.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
A Complex Summer
I have had the most advantageous summer. And - conveniently - it was fun.
I have spent the last three months at a research center with the Smithsonian. Already sounds great, right? I have thought for the longest time that I wanted to be a scientist, but now I know that I want to endorse science, not do the nitty-gritty lab work.
I got to work on some of the most beautiful coastline in the state, spending time in the sun and water and laughing to my hearts content.
I spent time working with meaningful projects, and had the opportunity to do my own research that will also double as my senior research for college, allowing me to graduate early.
I made some great friends, and enjoyed a great companionship with my colleagues and supervisors.
I had the chance to respond like an adult to difficult situations, and was given a lot of responsibilities and independent power.
I enjoyed a "trial run" of independent living, cooking all of my own meals and managing a small budget.
Best of all, I finally honed in on what I want to work on when I graduate, and the areas of my life that need to be changed. I know how I want to become a better person, a better worker, and a better student. I want to thank everyone I worked with and lived with on the campus of the research center.
Right now I'm not sure how I'm going to be able to go back to being a student - responsibilities downplayed, meals mostly in a cafeteria, only working for maybe two hours a day, instead of a 9-5. I just hope I never choose a job in which I ever utter the words "I don't really like my job"
Happy Summer!
I have spent the last three months at a research center with the Smithsonian. Already sounds great, right? I have thought for the longest time that I wanted to be a scientist, but now I know that I want to endorse science, not do the nitty-gritty lab work.
I got to work on some of the most beautiful coastline in the state, spending time in the sun and water and laughing to my hearts content.
I spent time working with meaningful projects, and had the opportunity to do my own research that will also double as my senior research for college, allowing me to graduate early.
I made some great friends, and enjoyed a great companionship with my colleagues and supervisors.
I had the chance to respond like an adult to difficult situations, and was given a lot of responsibilities and independent power.
I enjoyed a "trial run" of independent living, cooking all of my own meals and managing a small budget.
Best of all, I finally honed in on what I want to work on when I graduate, and the areas of my life that need to be changed. I know how I want to become a better person, a better worker, and a better student. I want to thank everyone I worked with and lived with on the campus of the research center.
Right now I'm not sure how I'm going to be able to go back to being a student - responsibilities downplayed, meals mostly in a cafeteria, only working for maybe two hours a day, instead of a 9-5. I just hope I never choose a job in which I ever utter the words "I don't really like my job"
Happy Summer!
 |
| On my very last day of field work, we caught four Cownose stingrays. It was a great day. |
Monday, July 4, 2011
How to: Spot a Miracle.
Sometimes you just have to make your own luck.
My boyfriend of three years and I have been attempting to see each other (and failing miserably) for the last six months. He is in the military and stationed nowhere near me or his family. Being in school, it's been difficult to find time to see him. A few weeks ago we realized something amazing - the fourth of July was on a Monday, and it being a federal holiday we both would have the day off of work.
Following this epiphany came a sudden frenzy of planning. Did I want to drive down or fly? definitely fly, it would take half the time overall, including time spent waiting in airports. When was I leaving? I would have to leave in the middle of the workday to avoid the holiday rush, but a few talks with my supervisor and a few late nights to make up helped it happen.
We were determined to plan and pay for the weekend without any assistance from outside forces (i.e. parental units), but the short-notice nature of the military base meant that by the time we were certain about when we could meet, it was almost too late to buy tickets. Some poor luck with a travel agency on base meant that I had to beg my family for assistance. It was humiliating, and not an experience I plan to repeat.
However, one call of shame later I had tickets in hand! Or rather, on laptop. Save paper and all that jazz. I could hardly believe any of this was actually happening until I stepped off of the last flight and saw my boyfriend for the first time in six months. We got to spend the quality time together that we desperately needed to hold the remnants of our sanity together - to laugh, to cry, to cuddle, and to watch silly movies.
So, how to spot a miracle? Things don't always come easily. There will be brick walls thrown up, but somehow you will get past them if you want it badly enough. Things will be wonderful. Things will be sad. And - as the song goes - although you may not get exactly what you wanted, you'll get what you need.
My boyfriend of three years and I have been attempting to see each other (and failing miserably) for the last six months. He is in the military and stationed nowhere near me or his family. Being in school, it's been difficult to find time to see him. A few weeks ago we realized something amazing - the fourth of July was on a Monday, and it being a federal holiday we both would have the day off of work.
Following this epiphany came a sudden frenzy of planning. Did I want to drive down or fly? definitely fly, it would take half the time overall, including time spent waiting in airports. When was I leaving? I would have to leave in the middle of the workday to avoid the holiday rush, but a few talks with my supervisor and a few late nights to make up helped it happen.
We were determined to plan and pay for the weekend without any assistance from outside forces (i.e. parental units), but the short-notice nature of the military base meant that by the time we were certain about when we could meet, it was almost too late to buy tickets. Some poor luck with a travel agency on base meant that I had to beg my family for assistance. It was humiliating, and not an experience I plan to repeat.
However, one call of shame later I had tickets in hand! Or rather, on laptop. Save paper and all that jazz. I could hardly believe any of this was actually happening until I stepped off of the last flight and saw my boyfriend for the first time in six months. We got to spend the quality time together that we desperately needed to hold the remnants of our sanity together - to laugh, to cry, to cuddle, and to watch silly movies.
So, how to spot a miracle? Things don't always come easily. There will be brick walls thrown up, but somehow you will get past them if you want it badly enough. Things will be wonderful. Things will be sad. And - as the song goes - although you may not get exactly what you wanted, you'll get what you need.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Stuff My Dad Taught Me
I give a lot of props to moms on my blog, but sometimes the credit just has to go to dads. This is specifically on Father's Day, but that's not why I'm writing this; I think it's important to give credit where credit is due.
My job is very challenging, both physically and mentally. My dad spent a good deal of time in my childhood grooming me to be a good daughter, a hard worker, and just overall a good person. I like to think I'm a good person, anyway.
A hard lesson for a kid to learn is silence. The importance of silence in the social world is vastly underrated. Not only this, but also attentiveness. When I was young my parents brought me to a lot of social events where I was the only person in the room under thirty. I was told to basically not speak unless spoken to, and generally answer questions succinctly. This wasn't because my parents didn't want to listen to me talk (they already listened a lot as it was), but they were teaching me that the best way to be remembered as a good listener was to let other people do most of the talking. Keep your stories short, your smiles large, and your fidgety tendencies under control and you will go far.
My dad did this weird thing with my brother and I when we were both very small. He brought us outdoors into the summer heat (several summers' worth of heat, actually) and built a playhouse with us. We didn't just sit in the shade and watch him - oh no - we participated! We got our own tiny sets of steel-toed boots (complete with demonstration of the power of a nail-gun) and work gloves. We hammered, sawed, and constructed with the best of them. At the time it was such a pain to go outside - too hot, too much work, all the other kids got to stay inside, why not us? - but most of my memories of those summers is of working with my dad, and working so hard to earn his respect.
At my job I do a lot of strange things. The other day I was helping someone construct a ballast-water sampler, bolting a fiber-glass bathtub to some weird wooden frame, and putting big bolts through tiny holes. I thanked my dad in my head for all the times he summoned me outside to watch him work. I also now find it hysterically awful if people won't "lower themselves to constructing something by hand. Pff.
During my rebellious teen years my Dad was amazingly supportive. I was the angsty teenager, he was the silent giant. My dad was a rock; he made time to talk to me when I couldn't articulate my feelings, he talked with me until the right words came. My dad was there.
Dear dads: drag your children outside. Yank the cords on the television while they still have some imagination left. Drag them to the kitchen and show them how to cook. Listen when they cry, especially girls. Girls look up to their fathers. You don't have to talk much, just enough to show them you mean business. Take your kids outside into the sunshine and show them how to work with their hands; how to create and grow and build higher. Anything is better than nothing. They may roll their eyes now, but in five or ten years they will thank you. Really.
Thanks, Dad.
Happy Father's Day.
My job is very challenging, both physically and mentally. My dad spent a good deal of time in my childhood grooming me to be a good daughter, a hard worker, and just overall a good person. I like to think I'm a good person, anyway.
A hard lesson for a kid to learn is silence. The importance of silence in the social world is vastly underrated. Not only this, but also attentiveness. When I was young my parents brought me to a lot of social events where I was the only person in the room under thirty. I was told to basically not speak unless spoken to, and generally answer questions succinctly. This wasn't because my parents didn't want to listen to me talk (they already listened a lot as it was), but they were teaching me that the best way to be remembered as a good listener was to let other people do most of the talking. Keep your stories short, your smiles large, and your fidgety tendencies under control and you will go far.
My dad did this weird thing with my brother and I when we were both very small. He brought us outdoors into the summer heat (several summers' worth of heat, actually) and built a playhouse with us. We didn't just sit in the shade and watch him - oh no - we participated! We got our own tiny sets of steel-toed boots (complete with demonstration of the power of a nail-gun) and work gloves. We hammered, sawed, and constructed with the best of them. At the time it was such a pain to go outside - too hot, too much work, all the other kids got to stay inside, why not us? - but most of my memories of those summers is of working with my dad, and working so hard to earn his respect.
At my job I do a lot of strange things. The other day I was helping someone construct a ballast-water sampler, bolting a fiber-glass bathtub to some weird wooden frame, and putting big bolts through tiny holes. I thanked my dad in my head for all the times he summoned me outside to watch him work. I also now find it hysterically awful if people won't "lower themselves to constructing something by hand. Pff.
During my rebellious teen years my Dad was amazingly supportive. I was the angsty teenager, he was the silent giant. My dad was a rock; he made time to talk to me when I couldn't articulate my feelings, he talked with me until the right words came. My dad was there.
Dear dads: drag your children outside. Yank the cords on the television while they still have some imagination left. Drag them to the kitchen and show them how to cook. Listen when they cry, especially girls. Girls look up to their fathers. You don't have to talk much, just enough to show them you mean business. Take your kids outside into the sunshine and show them how to work with their hands; how to create and grow and build higher. Anything is better than nothing. They may roll their eyes now, but in five or ten years they will thank you. Really.
Thanks, Dad.
Happy Father's Day.
Monday, June 13, 2011
The Evolution of a Bad Deal
As women, when we grow up we start to realize what a bad deal we get in life. It goes something like this.
As a young kid we are basically androgynous, and can do anything boys can do (the more politically correct among us will say that this doesn't change. I disagree). As we approach puberty, these strange fleshy things start growing out of our chest, and it hurts a lot when a soccer ball or something slams into them.
What?? Are you kidding me? This is a bad deal! Is it too late to switch to the other gender?
Just when you think "okay, I think I can live with these strange things", your mom tells you at some point in the next few years you will start to bleed out of a very personal area for a week out of every month. No kidding.
What?? Are you kidding me? This is a horrible deal! Is it too late to switch??
So you learn to deal with the bleeding thing (no choice, actually), but then in high school you learn that the strange bleeding occurrence means you can get pregnant. Yup, you get stuck with carrying this huge parasite around, and after nine months it will messily and painfully squirm out of your birth canal. What a fabulous deal, I'm so glad I'm a woman.
You must be pulling my leg. No deal is as bad as this one. Is it too late to switch?
Finally, after the boobs, the bleeding, the birth, doctors tell you about menopause. Just when you've learned to deal with all of this nonsense, someone tells you it is all going to go in reverse.
I give up. Someone pass the hormones and botox.
As a young kid we are basically androgynous, and can do anything boys can do (the more politically correct among us will say that this doesn't change. I disagree). As we approach puberty, these strange fleshy things start growing out of our chest, and it hurts a lot when a soccer ball or something slams into them.
What?? Are you kidding me? This is a bad deal! Is it too late to switch to the other gender?
Just when you think "okay, I think I can live with these strange things", your mom tells you at some point in the next few years you will start to bleed out of a very personal area for a week out of every month. No kidding.
What?? Are you kidding me? This is a horrible deal! Is it too late to switch??
So you learn to deal with the bleeding thing (no choice, actually), but then in high school you learn that the strange bleeding occurrence means you can get pregnant. Yup, you get stuck with carrying this huge parasite around, and after nine months it will messily and painfully squirm out of your birth canal. What a fabulous deal, I'm so glad I'm a woman.
You must be pulling my leg. No deal is as bad as this one. Is it too late to switch?
Finally, after the boobs, the bleeding, the birth, doctors tell you about menopause. Just when you've learned to deal with all of this nonsense, someone tells you it is all going to go in reverse.
I give up. Someone pass the hormones and botox.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
The "S" is for "Spa"
Somehow I have managed to land a job that pays me to play around in paradise.
For my internship there are field days and lab days. On lab days we transfer samples from one solution to another, take measurements, and all other sorts of cool sciency things. During field days (especially in June, I’m learning) we go out into the field (our sampling sites) and wade walk around in warm, ankle-to-waist-deep warm water while the sun is shining, a breeze tousles our hair, and the green trees above us sway exotically.
I kid you not.
I felt like I was on the set of Swiss Family Robinson. Although I’m fairly certain they didn’t come out of the water with nets and proceed to measure and count grass shrimp, trying to avoid being stabbed (they’re pointy and vicious!) Several times I stopped what I was doing, and tried to wrap my head around the glorious scenery. I asked my supervisor how it was possible we were paid to do this!
Because we also have to do it in mid-August, she replied.
I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. For now, I’ll just enjoy the complimentary tanning (under bright sun), hair coloration (salt water + sunlight), mud masks (from when you trip in a transect), and skin exfoliation (sand that gets in your shoes and clothes).
Enjoy your cubicle, and I'll enjoy my tropical vacation- I mean ... Internship.
For my internship there are field days and lab days. On lab days we transfer samples from one solution to another, take measurements, and all other sorts of cool sciency things. During field days (especially in June, I’m learning) we go out into the field (our sampling sites) and wade walk around in warm, ankle-to-waist-deep warm water while the sun is shining, a breeze tousles our hair, and the green trees above us sway exotically.
I kid you not.
I felt like I was on the set of Swiss Family Robinson. Although I’m fairly certain they didn’t come out of the water with nets and proceed to measure and count grass shrimp, trying to avoid being stabbed (they’re pointy and vicious!) Several times I stopped what I was doing, and tried to wrap my head around the glorious scenery. I asked my supervisor how it was possible we were paid to do this!
Because we also have to do it in mid-August, she replied.
I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. For now, I’ll just enjoy the complimentary tanning (under bright sun), hair coloration (salt water + sunlight), mud masks (from when you trip in a transect), and skin exfoliation (sand that gets in your shoes and clothes).
Enjoy your cubicle, and I'll enjoy my tropical vacation- I mean ... Internship.
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