“I am not circling
anymore,”
she realizes
with a gasp.
The joy flows freely.
“I will move ahead,”
she vows.
The path is clear,
not yet overgrown.
Her heels spring
against the moss
with each step.
“Today, I choose
the forward line,”
she lives,
without a glance back.
Posted in Future Aspirations, Good Days, The Meaning of it All, Writing/Language
Tagged moving forward, poetry
he said, folding his arms across his chest and nodding his head in affirmation a couple of times.
His eyes were unyielding and he quirked his brow, as though to challenge me.
“Like a butterfly? Know me that well?” I responded.
“Yes. Analyzed you years ago. You, ma’am, are aiming for the American dream. I can see it all now,” he said with confidence, his tone matter-of-fact. For effect, his left hand swiped across the open air, as though creating a cinematic screen in the distance to play scenes of my life to come, motioning me to stop and take a look.
“You, married to your long-term boyfriend. Working your asses off to scrimp and save to move out to somewhere still in civilization, but a bit more spacious. Then, you each get a decent car – you don’t strike me as a luxury car owner. You put a down payment on a decent-sized house – see it? Three bedrooms, a drive-in garage, a fenced in backyard. You get a dog. Have some kids, maybe two or three. You bake cookies and stuff. Continue working at something that doesn’t pay a lot, but makes you happy.You enjoy it and your life without needing too much, wanting too much.”
He finally stops talking and laughs heartily at my stricken expression. I say nothing. I can’t and won’t contradict him, but something tugs at a corner of my brain. Yes, I envision myself with that kind of future, but a hope for a bit more pulls at me, like a crying child at my feet, reaching for my knees with desperate, chubby fingers.
I clear my throat, “Look – that squirrel’s pretty fattened up for winter.” He looks and nods.
Another squirrel joins the first. They chase each other and the newcomer hops up the roof of a wooden booth we’re standing by. The other follows, but stops on a dangling electric line as he nears us.
My colleague turns his attention to the squirrel, who sits, his tail twitching and his body stiff with fear. The other squirrel climbs slowly up an adjacent tree trunk, watching and waiting.
“Go get your girlfriend, stupid. I’m not going to eat you. I just had lunch. C’mon – go get some,” the gruff, middle-aged man urges, motioning with his hands again.
“You’re talking to a squirrel, not directing traffic,” I point out.
He stops immediately.
“I’m never getting married again,” he announces, scratching his beard, “See this? Getting gray and not a concern about it. I can do without an endless stream of judgmental, female commentary.”
“Bitter much?” I ask rhetorically, staring over his shoulder as a few cars pass.
“Some people,” he rolls his eyes toward me, “find something real and cling to it. I’m glad my wife and I divorced. I definitely don’t need that drama in my age. No, I’m going to set up my retirement home in the Dominican Republic and wilt away in the sun. Happily. Like a raisin.”
“To each their own,” I mock toast him with my empty water bottle. I am no one to view his wishes and dreams as less worthy or meaningful than mine, or anyone else’s. The wind bites into my face. My lips are dry. It’s time to get indoors and raid the water cooler.
“To each their own,” he repeats with a snort and a short salute.
I walk away without another word, down a different path.
Posted in Future Aspirations, Love and Relationships
Tagged assessment, first impressions, future, squirrels
It’s winter in my Harvest Moon (*CRINGE*forgirls*CRINGE*) game, which means it’s mining season. That’s right – there are jewels, gold, and mysterious edible, black, healing plants to collect. No crops can grow, and I already hired enough elves to take care of the animals. Essentially, the mines give you places to dig around. You also get to smash rocks with a big hammer. There are at least 100 levels one could travel down to find more rare, valuable treasures.
I won’t steer off in a diatribe about the symbolism behind this, that a person has to dig themselves a deep grave, losing oneself in the process, to get potential riches, but just note that it’s a background thought as I write this one, folks.
There are rumors around that I’m in the running for a promotion (in title). This title does not carry any greater salary opportunities, but holds increased responsibilities and a few extra, worthwhile benefits. Yet, I’m the type of person that likes to only count hatched, flapping, feathery chicks. A hen poking around in the grass without any sign of laying any egg is not enough to get me excited, or running for a frying pan (my apologies, herbivore friends). I did not let a foundation of false hope to build, despite the reassuring smiles and knowing winks traveling around, because the position is publicly listed and fair game to outside candidates. In fact, interviews are taking place. I’ve already introduced myself to a few unknowing “rivals”.
Hope, no matter how diluted, still exists, bubbles, and waits. I’m perfectly content digging holes, looking for more stairwells to the next level, but imagine my shock when I was playing my video game and found no other stairwells in that stage. Strange – that never happened before. There were no other options but to leave, to ascend and re-enter. The programming sucks? Try again from the last save point. One of my mentors stopped by to visit today. He congratulated me on my accomplishments.
This sounds like polite, encouraging, and even supportive conversation, but his tone started to align itself with an idea that I’m trapped with no means of advancement, like my Harvest Moon character. He said a little too dismissively, too confidently, that I would prefer to spend my time doing something else, utilizing my degree to its fullest ability. He compared where I was professionally to being wrapped in a warm blanket. Loudly (see: in front of those I supervise, and terrifyingly, within earshot of my superiors).
It was out of my comfort zone, but I interrupted him for a change.
I love my work and find inherent meaning in the most menial of tasks, in the largest of projects entrusted to me. Not to sound like I’m on an interview, but I thoroughly thrive on uncovering any fissures, collaborating, thinking up ways to improve services to our clients. I strive for an efficient, ethical, and genuine staff that wholeheartedly believes in our grounding philosophy. I use my degrees in Psychology to build rapport, soothe fears and concerns, and generally go above the calling of my job description to meet a moral standard, not merely earn a paycheck. This is not the post of a bitter employee, upset that she’s been deceived or led on in any way. This is the rant of a disappointed person who lost respect for someone who tried to insinuate that I was not where I should be at this stage in life.
I believe my supervisors have the utmost faith in my abilities, and being the relative newbie, dues are owed. Time must pass. Blankets are nice, especially in this economic frost. I love warm blankets, but I also love the cold, the sense you get when dashing across a chilled room in the morning, the rush in your lungs as you make a beeline to use the bathroom as quickly as possible – you don’t have a choice, you just gotta go. However, I don’t view myself as wrapped up in blankets. I am running about in the cold while wearing a sensible amount of layered clothes for the season.
Stability does not negate the prospect of venturing out in the future, or pursuing creative dreams on the side. Paying monthly bills, helping out a few struggling relatives and friends, and a few leftover dollars to save toward better housing, eventual marriage, and the like never shamed anyone. It certainly doesn’t shame me. I put myself through college. I graduated early. I put myself through graduate school. I graduated early. I am self-sufficient financially and blessed with overwhelming love and respect from those around me. Looking forward to working every day is a good sign that I’m doing something right, not wrong. It rocked, no, disturbed me more deeply than I first believe when this person suggested I was limiting myself, and masked their disapproval of my career choices with the claim of looking out for my best interests – at my place of employment, no less.
Plus, I am not sitting stagnant and dissatisfied. I find meaning in my work. I’m here to do the greatest amount of good for the greatest amount of people possible, and it is my interest, curiosity, and initiative in this aim serving me well, not misplaced motivations to climb a corporate ladder. I do not mean this in a utilitarian sense as Kant did, though many policies are established with this idea in mind. Mother Teresa’s words resound strong and true: “It is not the magnitude of our actions, but the amount of love that is put into them that matters.” The details are just as important as the overall picture.
I stated my case. I said that I better myself in multiple ways every day without yearning for something more. Satisfaction is not settling. Happiness can build a resume as easily as misery. I will never refuse a freely given scarf when there are miles to travel outside on a snowy day, especially when it was hand-knit, just for me.
Posted in Finances, Future Aspirations, Practical Advice, The Meaning of it All
Tagged Advice, career, Harvest Moon, life transitions
What do you do for a living?
It’s a common question, but deceiving all the same. People do a lot of things, may carry several job titles at once or over the course of a lifetime, but this question carries a bit of judgment with it – there are conclusions from how someone responds, certain societal definitions of self-worth that mingle in with one’s reaction to an answer. In short, there exists a concern of being pigeonholed, categorized, boxed in a label simply based on one’s current profession. It’s somewhat ridiculous.
Recent graduates are encountering this question nearly weekly, daily. It is a constant rumination for some, while others who found employment may struggle with climbing the ladder; they strive toward using their degree or vocational education to its fullest. Starting an entry-level job can emit feelings of gratefulness (especially in this economic downturn), but sometimes, it doesn’t calm the feeling of defeat churning in one’s gut. Still, some peers have achieved this goal (or threw out the instruction manual to the major-laden expectations of pursuing a certain field), and have followed their interests, carving out a career path that has nothing to do with their educational background.
Whatever a person does, others usually want to know. People want to know if someone feels satisfied in their field – content, yearnful, disappointed. People look at benefits, salary vs. hourly wage, lifestyle fit, and personality vs. employer match. One of my relatives is considering a job offer at this moment. She is still a college student, but offered a relatively lucrative part-time position; it would not only offer the largest hourly rate that she has been given so far, but excellent experience and networking opportunities. In taking that offer, she would scale back on her enrollment for the semester and leave another part-time job with a great, considerate boss. There are more factors that go into play when considering job contentment – sometimes, the pay cut is worth the payoffs, but I have a feeling that philosophy is somewhat more rare to find than simply performing a job to make ends meet, to support oneself or one’s family, and if possible, to pay for some leisure and luxury on the side too.
Am I known for more than my title – for my passion, integrity, and decency as a human being, maybe even my (usually corny) sense of humor? When I tend to jump in the water, I dive right in, submerging myself in its depths. I feel like I am allowing myself to drown at times – I give too much, realize a few seconds too late that I put too much into my tasks, take things seriously, and believe in my employment’s mission – I am an advocate for change, for utilizing company time to its utmost potential, and to strive further. Although I am not necessarily seeing this current situation as being an end-all or stepping stone for greener pastures, I would like to use my graduate degree more relevantly, whatever that means. I did not study human behavior for the paycheck, and I surely get personal satisfaction out of what I do now. There is enough fight and energy pumping to settle yet – this is only the beginning of my earning years, of my adventure.
Plus, there comes a bit of freedom in not having a business card – I am still young in my current field, any field. It’s time to push aside any feelings of doubt or insecurity and enjoy the river. The current is smooth enough with mild, manageable rapids for an amateur, and I have to stop exerting so much energy into analyzing the gentle curves of the riverbed. There are only two nagging, metaphorical fears – 1) The river will drop off into an irresponsibly foreseeable waterfall at the last moment that will have me scrambling for dry land or 2) The river will empty out into a vast ocean that will leave me begging for shore. The river can only last so long and I am unsure of where I am on the map at the moment.
So, what do you do for a living?
Kind of a morbid title for a blog post, but a friend and I discussed The Bucket List recently. I liked her view, in that the contents of such a list really seems like one’s hopes, dreams, and aspirations – not necessarily what he or she would actually do if given a fatal diagnosis with limited time left to live. Everything pulled in very sharply and became focused, when I was critically ill years ago. In that sense, her point held true for me – I wanted more time to see people I love, and all thoughts of what I wished I had done seemed almost a moot point. It was not something I regretted or even considered. I know that rough patch is something I occasionally mention on here; I have passed that time in my life. Some people may think that I tend to dwell on it too much, but really, I revisit those scary months because it reasserts how grateful I feel for being alive in the present, it spurs on motivation for my tomorrows. When you reach the end of the line and are given more rope, your life perspective changes, alters irrevocably.
So, while I won’t give you a bucket list, here are a few things I hope to do before my days of consciousness are over:
What do you want to do? How are you taking action to crossing off some items on your list?
Posted in Drums & Music, Future Aspirations, The Meaning of it All
Tagged before i die, bucket list
The thesis-beast has finally been slayed. How many other graduate students are celebrating across the nation, the world, right now because their academic research has come to a victorious end?
It is a falsehood. Sure, this project is done, but so many more loom in the hazy future. There are many who will have to continue typing search words into expansive databases, painstakingly referencing scholarly studies into particular formats, and explaining informed consent to their willing participants – all to just continue in an earned, employed position. Give me application, give me meaning. I don’t want to be a contributor to a body of research; I want to be the wielding instrument, the intermediary.
The world of academia can seem almost irrelevant. Look up words. Read. Compile. Sift. Acquire various permissions. Gather data. Analyze it. Write it up in a way that sounds professional, yet makes sense. Rationalize that it somehow changes the world, makes a difference. Scoff at night time news reporters who exclaim that recent studies prove this or that and know that correlation does not equal causation. Repeat.
Yet, words empower. Data compels the critics to stop, take a look, implement changes, develop programs, fund projects. In short, research helps to catalog and fuel human curiosity and progress.
This one chapter is closed. There are still challenges to conquer, treatment plans to cook, carve, and serve, hot and ready. Underlying all of the work is a hope for an improved future, an enthusiasm for there being a continued present, a guided tomorrow.
Posted in Future Aspirations, Introspection
Tagged academia, academic research, graduate school, Master's thesis
As posted on PostSecret on January 10, 2010
Mother always assaulted my childhood with an earnest, ongoing plea, not only in words, but actions. Her ultimate lesson was akin to, “Complete your education. Follow your dreams. Pursue a solid career. Never, ever depend on a man to provide for your needs – I won’t have you dependent on anyone else but yourself.”
So, always being quite studious, that particular lecture was not left unheard. I listened and learned it well. Education? Nearly done. A wall of honors. Whispers of such potential swarming around me by respected professionals, urging me to go even further than my intended aspirations. Check. Solid career? Well, not off to a shabby start. Currently climbing the ladder and determined to keep on rising. Excellent evaluations, thus far, though feeling rather personal insecurity in my age. Check. Self-sufficient in financial matters? Oh, a definite check.
Isn’t this what all of the Rosie Riveters worked toward? Isn’t this what all of the Susan B. Anthony’s yearned for, fought for? Women Rights. The right to divorce and to choose a spouse without being treated like chattel. The right to work. The right to ownership of property and voting. An equal say and still battling a slightly imbalanced pay rate. The ability to take maternity leave without risk of peril to one’s job position. The ability to be valued for one’s mind and obtain a first-class education and actively put such degrees to use.
Still, the notion of choosing to halt all of those options and stay at home is tempting. Exhilarating, but seemingly against societal norms. The thought of my children, offspring who do not even exist, who may never be born even, being sent off to the care of others while I work, is worse than any dull, rusty blade digging into my belly.Yet, so is the disdain or disbelief others would express at me giving up my aforementioned potential for future success. A dual-income is almost a necessity, with the standard of living expected these days, with achieving a lifestyle I would wish and hope for any kids I might bear and raise. With college costs on the rise. A mortgage. Car payments. Groceries. Basic necessities for minimal comforts. Personal toiletries and such. It’s impossible.
I will not give up who I love in pursuance of money. And we will never be rich. Our career plans do not foresee much fortune. But, they do promise a boon of contentment and satisfaction.
Maybe it can be done.
Posted in Future Aspirations
Tagged career woman, domestic woman, feminism, gender role
“Two weeks together!” we had screamed in unison, gleefully. If I wasn’t so darn attached to gravity or weighed down by the mountains of holiday food coming our way lately, he would have swung me around. Today our woeful expressions held a different message entirely. “Two more days?” I grimaced disbelievingly, staring at the shiny 2010 calendar featuring the work of our latest favorite artist. He nodded grimly, “Two more days.” We had plans for the day. Really. Truly. Those plans ranged from the mundane (buying shampoo and a new vacuum cleaner) to the exciting (watching a movie featuring Brad Pitt AND George Clooney). We ended up down the exciting path, but could not really drag ourselves into the plotline. I won’t reveal the title, in case you want to go through a track record of their careers and make a guess at it. Watch it for yourself. Hint: It’s a comedy that was rather humorless. After awhile, he broke me from my Sims 2 Apartment Life reverie with a pleading, “Watch tv with me!!! You’ve been playing for hours.” Hours? Oh wow, when did the light filtering in through the window curtains get that dark? I scampered off to the kitchen and threw the remainder of our 100 count frozen hors d’oeuvres into the oven. We ate and exchanged an isolating technology for a shared one. We worshiped the glowing box for an hour or so and just sat in comfortable silence, our arms entwined into a rather cozy pretzel. New Year’s resolutions seem insincere. The changing of a year should not ignite some fervor to better oneself. It is a continuous struggle and effort. However, I want to cut back on social networking. You may have noticed the changes around here a bit. Like my lack of updates. Writing still holds interest for me. This blog does for me as well. Yet, I want to pay attention to some things that have been neglected lately. Learning how to write calligraphy and sending snail mail, showing friends that my scratchy penmanship can actually produce something aesthetically pleasing and legible. Decreasing the amount of books currently neglected on the bookshelf. Dammit, I want to learn how to cook an amazing quiche. Exercise a bit more often, because rather than a concern with appearance, I am more concerned about health (and dazzling him, of course). Upgrading my drumset in a significant way and being able to play it with equal finesse, so as not to embarrass incredible equipment with a lack of talent. Lowering my electricity bill. So many things.
I have an assignment due that requires me to interview two counseling professionals. However, these professionals work during the time period that I do, and being a new employee, I have no personal or sick days. My compensatory time is also allotted for the Spring semester.
It’s a conundrum. I could theoretically walk into the field earlier and head off to work on time, but no professional in their right mind would ever oblige to meet me at 7 am, when they are either not expected for a couple more hours, or are arriving and getting settled into their daily tasks.
A conundrum is worth thinking about and moping around for awhile, but it needs action to solve. Strict deadlines must be adhered to – my research still needs to be solidified, conducted, and analyzed as well. I am interviewing someone who is willing to meet me today. I hope to hedge out what his greatest material needs as a professional are, and purchase something for him in gratitude. I will not feel comfortable until I have the second interview guaranteed and an appointment arranged; perhaps I am an organizational freak.
Sleeping does not even provide me with any relief. I think about work, school, or fall asleep so late these days that I do not manage deep REM levels to hold any memorable dreams. Something has to change. I have to adapt. There is no option allowing for failure. Well, there is, and it would not necessarily be failure, but I am too determined and I have worked too hard to give up now. Perseverance requires resiliency. As long as I stay self-aware and on task, things will be fine. Academia does not bother me. Time constraints do.
I took the Myer-Briggs type indicator test, a personality sorting tool used since World War II and based off of Jungian personality theory. It studies human personality across four paradigms and elicits a total of 16 personality varieties.
There aren’t any readily available copier machines to post my exact chart for you to see. Basically, I scored as slightly more extraverted than introverted, moderately more intuitive than sensing, moderately more thinking than feeling, and slightly more judging than perceiving. Simply put, my personality type tends to be seen more in management and leadership roles, the business or corporate world. This amused and slightly concerned me, because while I tend to be more abstract and at times logical, I hold a deep set feeling of empathy toward others and altruism that I wished revealed itself through the results.
There are several types of personalities stereotyped into counseling-related career paths. ENTJs are excluded from that grouping. However, my exact results did not denote me as a very strong ENTJ. The person who helped me to analyze the results said that because my individual results were slight to moderate that I am actually pretty flexible between each paradigm and more than likely oscillate between both ends of the spectrum. Hopefully, this will only help me bridge any gaps in communication and won’t serve as a barrier or obstacle, a portal that encourages an increase in client-related misunderstandings or alienation in comparison with other personality types. Even with reassurance that different types of counselors are needed in the world for the many individuals inhabiting it, I can’t help but feel slightly nervous.
I guess I can’t read too much into this type of inventory, although a lot of what these sites say are pretty relative to who I am – I can definitely attest that I am in alignment with how they describe typical ENTJs – I am usually “mystified” at being placed in leadership roles. I do like efficiency and viewing an overall picture, but also account for detail. I can be a bit of a perfectionist and rationalist (see: my love for Kantian ethics). Yet, it’s how one utilizes his or her strengths and accounts for any weaknesses that determines future success or competence. I won’t place myself in a cage. Personality types are not restrictive, but malleable, developmental, and yes, dependent on many extraneous variables or environmental factors. If I stay reflective, self-aware, and focused on the client’s needs, then I am sure I will be fine. It’s interesting, if a bit categorizing.
Posted in Future Aspirations, The Meaning of it All
Tagged ENTJ, Myer-Briggs, personality test
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