Let’s Talk About Heat, Baby.

I’ve always been told that one is not supposed to work where one sleeps but in this instance it couldn’t be helped.  I had a poor night’s sleep last night and woke up early today for a meeting so when I returned home this afternoon, tired and dreading working on the job search, I decided to cut myself some slack and climbed into bed for a short nap.  However, before I actually shut my eyes, I turned on the space heater Jordan and I had brought up from the basement a couple of days ago.  Now, I love this thing for so many reasons.  My number one reason: it is turning on the heat without turning on the heat.  It heats up our little bedroom so efficiently that when Jordan returned from dorm duty late the other night and came in to let me know he made it home- I was drenched in sweat.  Like chest dripping, I may have H1-N1 sweaty.  “You’re covered in sweat!” he exclaimed (I suspect just the teeniest bit disgusted).  “Well, yeah,” was my reply.  I mean, what do you say to a comment like that when you clearly are drenched in sweat?  I told him to turn on the fan.

But what’s really so great about the space heater is that for some reason (warning: there is no logic behind this feeling at all) I feel that the longer I can postpone turning on our actual heat- the longer I will stay financially viable as an unemployed Bostonian in this economic climate.  It’s a game.  Actually, in the mornings (and no one knows this- this is top secret insight into my private life) I always do yoga and during the summer I would turn on the ceiling fan while doing my down-ward dogs because I would get hot.  The past two mornings however, I have gone into our frigid living room wearing a spandex bodysuit and in an attempt to stay warm have (gasp!) turned on the heat.  Both mornings as I have done so I tell myself “I’m just checking to see if it works because if it doesn’t we need to get it fixed now before it gets much colder.”  Let me tell you, it works.  And as I’m sitting doing my warm-up breath exercises, I hear the radiators clinking and the steam hissing and it’s all too much for me.  I pause the DVD after maybe three minutes of having the heat on to shut it off quickly, pretending the whole incident didn’t happen.  Really, it’s bizarre.

Sometimes I wonder what makes me so nervous about turning on the heat.  When I lived off-campus at Bates, the heat was included in our rent, which I always emphatically declared as good because “There is no way I will tolerate being cold in my own house!”  What happened to this mindset?  I guess it dissolved when my share of the rent doubled and heat was no longer included and I noticed a few holes in the floor that let me peek into the basement.  For some reason I feel like turning on the heat will eat a hole in my pockets- pockets that are shallow already to say the least.  So my trusty little space heater keeps my bedroom warm at night and right now that’s what matters.  Until I find myself surfing the internet and writing this blog post in bed in a winter scarf with a Snuggie wrapped around my shoulders.  Yes, I own a Snuggie- I received it from Jordan as a present.  He said the commercials indicated that white people and old people love it.  It’s true, watch any Snuggie commercial and you see a wonderful, white, nuclear family gathered around playing cards or a granny knitting on the couch.  “I saw the old lady knitting and thought of you,” he said.  I mean, I knit, and I’m white, and I’ll be an old lady some day, but really?  He saw an old lady knitting on a commercial for a “Made For TV Product” and he thought of me?  Oh well, I can’t complain as the Snuggie is warm.  And it makes me look like a wizard when I wear it because mine is royal blue and has wide, flowing arms.  Great for knitting as a granny, not so great for making a peanut butter sandwich at midnight.  I had to have Jordan hold my sleeves.

I’ve come to realize that I cannot live out the entire winter like this- I either need to get a job so I don’t have to be home all the time or win the lottery so I can pay for a heated life of luxury.  But as sit on my bed in my grossly overheated bedroom where I just woke up from a nap and I’m complaining, I think about what I see every time I venture outside my house and into Boston.  I see tons of people without homes.  Forget heat, these are people that don’t have any shelter at all, they don’t have any rooms to be cold.

Homelessness is a huge issue internationally and locally here in Boston where I find it a very visible issue.  So visible in fact, that one can become numb to the problem.  I hurry from meeting to meeting, place to place, and I notice that people are asking me for spare change or are gathered under an awning somewhere in the city but the thing is- I don’t really see.  I rarely stop and think about these people’s situations and what being without a home must mean to them/for them.  Here is an article written in 2008 about homelessness in the Boston area that highlights some of what the state has been trying to do to address the issue.

I guess what this issue makes me think about is what I can do as someone who has the privilege of a living space.  Though I don’t have a lot of money, I have a lot of time (which some might argue is money) and I believe time is precious.  I urge you all to do what I’m going to do- get off your warm behind and make one move that not only acknowledges that homelessness is an issue but that takes a step towards bettering the experience of someone who finds themselves in this situation.  I will let you decide the best action to take- some don’t feel comfortable with, or aren’t able to, give money to everyone who asks them each day.  And really this isn’t addressing the core issues of homelessness at all.  What makes the situation more digestible for me is thinking about how you can institutionally affect change.

First off, we cannot let these people become invisible.  Poverty has a way of swallowing people and families whole and can engender feelings of being less-than-human.  It’s like being on a New York subway at rush hour and you just want to scream because you feel nobody sees you, sees your delicate feet, or sees your personal space.  I try to think about this as I go about my daily routine.  A good friend of mine did a lot of work with homeless populations in high school and she always used to tell me that she discovered after speaking with them that “the worst part for many of them is that they’re not acknowledged.”  For many people without homes (though not all) their situation is not ideal and can cause a lot of shame.  A general acknowledgement of their presence can go a long way- though I warn you, I have experienced people asking me for money and when I reply “No I’m sorry sir/mam” and give a timid smile I get a snarky comment in reply about how they want money and not a smile.  But this doesn’t happen all the time, and I’d rather acknowledge them and be shot down than not acknowledge at all.

Secondly, get involved.  When I was practicing and working in the kitchen at a zen center, we bagged all of our viable leftover food and brought it to homeless shelters.  Think about dropping off the clothes you want to get rid of at a homeless shelter rather than Goodwill or keeping them in your basement for years.  Think about getting rid of your hotel soap collection by donating it to a homeless shelter.  Think about volunteering one night a week at a soup kitchen to help prepare and serve the nightly meal.  Now these months coming up are important times to get involved and consider the issue of homelessness because the weather is not forgiving.  It really isn’t that difficult to loose your home.  I hear about it on the radio every day.  Think about it- I certainly am.  Considering the issue of homelessness has not only changed the way I view the city landscape but has changed the way I view my own existence.  Yes, I’m cold doing yoga in my living room in the morning but that’s just it- I’m cold doing yoga in my living room.  That means I have a living room, that means I have the leisure time to do an exercise activity like yoga, that means I have the yoga mat and the electronics to play my yoga DVD on.  Being cold is not so bad.

Shhhh,

Steph

My First Temping Gig

I had my first temping experience this week.  This is how it happened:

I was slinking around the house, I had just gotten dressed (I try to get dressed every morning so I don’t stay in my PJs all day) and was at the kitchen table filling out some job applications when my cell phone rang.  I didn’t recognize the number but I knew it was Massachusetts so I picked up quickly.  “Stephanie Howson” I said (that’s how I answer my phone when I want to sound professional).  It was my temping agent, a really nice dude, who asked if I was willing to pick up a two-day gig at a consulting firm in Waltham (one town over).  I said yes of course.  At this point any money is good money.  So I put my work on the back burner and got into some “business casual” wear.  I hopped in my car and headed toward Waltham having no idea what to expect.

Mind you, I had never temped before this point.  The only knowledge I had of temping was from that movie Obsessed I had watched in which the female temp goes wacko and stocks her temporary boss.  Other than utilizing crazy people, the movie didn’t really tell me anything else about temping.

I must have been lucky because the office I was sent to was really nice.  The office building was all new-agey looking on the outside and had a parking garage that was free (a huge plus in the Boston area).  I entered the office and was met by the receptionist who knew who I was and immediately led me to Heather- a woman who was in charge of giving me the task I would be working on for the next two day.  Heather was super nice- she showed me how to navigate a program called ArcGIS and I spent 9 hours over the span of two days physically matching delivery addresses in Argentina to the actual geographical points.  Let me just tell you that I now know the entire geographical shape of Argentina and can navigate it based on various shapes made by lakes and rivers and highways.  Not a skill that will really be helpful in pursuing a career in nonprofit development but a skill none-the-less.

But back to the office- there was a fully stocked kitchen- I mean fully stocked.  It was like a mini Bates Commons.  They had yogurts and string cheese and veggies with dip and hummus and sodas and sparkling water that you could take at any time.  Fruit, toast, an espresso machine- it was really something.  I drank a can of Coke when I needed an extra booth to keep staring at Google Earth.  I drank a cup of green tea after I had the can of Coke because I still felt I needed caffeine but I was afraid I would combust if I had a second soda.  So I sat in an abandoned office and did this data entry.  And then I went home.  And returned the next day.  And when I finished at 1:30, I was free to leave.

Temping wasn’t so bad.  Now Im sure all experiences aren’t so great but the people I worked with were really nice and like I said- free soda?  Awesome.  I wonder what the next job will be- I hope it’s just a good.  It’s a great way for me to get a little extra cash with a minimum commitment.  I sincerely pray the jobs keep coming- I’ve heard some stories about people beginning as temps and then becoming permanent employees.

I get the feeling that temp work can be a bit judged just like other types of work like food industry positions etc.  But I must say, there are numerous and qualified candidates in these positions- you cannot judge a book by it’s employment status at this point- lots of great books are unemployed at the time and just trying to pay their rent.  And that’s me.  And hey, temping offers you some skills and experience working in an office setting.  And did I mention that the office I was temping at had a room with a massage chair?  Oh no?  Well it did.  And now I can put ArcGIS system management skills on my resume… or knowledge of geography of Argentina… though I don’t think I will.

Shhhh,

Steph

Rainy Saturdays, Chinatown, and a Mini Bates Reunion

This Saturday was the first day Jordan and I have had to spend together in a long time.  I was away from the apartment last weekend and the weekend before, who knows.  Basically, we both felt as if we hadn’t been in each others’ presence, or at least paying attention to each other for a long time.  So we had decided to make this weekend great.

I have gotten a bee in my bonnet about going hiking.  See, I love autumn, everything about it.  I love the colors, the smells, and the feeling I get when I go outside and feel energized rather than wanting to instantly collapse from the heat.  So it makes sense that I would want to hike in this weather, it’s my power weather.  (Note: My parents may not understand what I’m saying here as historically I have hated hiking.  This is because my father would take us on obscenely long hikes when the weather would not always be perfect.  In fact sometimes it would rain.  Hard.  Like a storm.  Furthermore, he would rarely plan the route ahead of time- something I do without fail and it is a trait I picked up from my mother who’s the same way- so we would be following him, cursing life and our achy knees, praying that he wouldn’t want to take another “detour” to check out a ledge that was always “only another ten minutes” off our charted route.  It never was.  But my hikes aren’t like dad’s hikes.  My hikes are planned, and I make a nice little picnic.  My hikes are me leading in tube socks and shorts with Jordan trailing behind in his Nikes.)

Anyway, so I was all excited to hike and after a Friday evening of watching half of Waterworld and half of Obsessed.  Now, both of these movies are ridiculous.  Waterworld because it makes no logical sense.  I tried to keep my indignant exclamations to a minimum but I just couldn’t help it.  Where in God’s name were the villains getting the gas to fuel their metal ski-doos if the whole world is covered in water?  I’m sure, knowing the current world, that all reserves of gas would be used up in say oh… a year tops?  Also, dirt is a precious commodity in the movie because land is a thing of the past.  However, what can you do with dirt?!  I can understand water being a precious commodity, a domestic cat even, but certainly not dirt.  What are you going to do with it?  Plant some seeds that you don’t have?  But anyway, Kevin Costner’s hair is in a half ponytail for the entire movie, which is quite a treat to see.  I guess we know that in a future where all the polar ice caps have melted- half-ponytails are back in style.  Now Obsessed was quite a different movie- instead of a Western/ Indiana Jones type flick on water, Obsessed was a crazy white girl movie.  And let me tell you, as a white woman myself, I find crazy white women movies terrifying.  The characters are always so crazy.  Fatal Attraction, The Swimmer- all terrifying.  The difference between those flicks and this one is that the man who is being terrorized is black and so is his family.  This leads to some interesting analysis of the scenes where the crazy white woman (Ali Larter) is claiming certain things, which the black man (Idris Elba) vehemently denies- a white woman’s word against a black man’s.  Who usually comes out on top in these situations?  Historically (and usually right now), it’s the white woman.  But anyway, though the movie provides an interesting race and gender analysis, it has a terrible soundtrack and an even more awful script.  But, hey, you can’t always have it all.

So after our awesome cinematic night, I was all ready to hike the day away.  Until we awoke to torrential downpour.  After pouting a bit, I decided to go pick up a pass from our local library to get discounted admission to the Museum of Fine Arts.  We drove there, commenting upon how obscene parking prices are in the city and how the MBTA is a poor excuse for public transportation.  No wonder American’s sit at home.  Really.  It’s so damn hard to get anywhere.  And then once you do, you have to pay $10-20 per person to gain access to where you just travelled.  The situation just astounds me.

We spent about two hours in the museum, philosophizing about life and commenting on how we were surrounded with pillaged and stolen goods.  Oh colonialism- how you’ve filled our museums.  Upon leaving the museum, we headed to Chinatown where we had a fight involving Jordan’s I phone on the streets of Chinatown (he was hungry and began to lose touch with reality, I was channeling my father and wanted to find the best restaurant possible and Jordan just wanted to eat, and so we clashed and the battle ended with me yelling “Well YOU have the I phone so YOU lead the way!) and then we met two good Bates pals for dinner.  One lives and works in the Boston area and the other in Portland, ME.  We caught up on some Bates news and discussed alumni networking for some time.  We agreed that it was super important for alumni/ae to help graduates out and that too often people forget that they owe their institution beyond sending them a check each year.  The Bates people that I’ve spoken to have been extremely warm and helpful, and that I appreciate.  In fact, I appreciate it so much that I will return the favor and make sure to put myself out there as a resource for the younger Bates generation.  Because I might not be cruising around Boston in a Bates sweatsuit but I always put that I am a graduate of Bates College on any job application I send out because who knows?  Someone might see that I’m a Batesie and may be a Batesie themselves.  Or in Jordan’s case, someone might be married to a Batesie and they might perk up at the mention of our glorious institution.

Hey, maybe someone might have read the articles that mention Bates blogging in the New York Times, will check out Stealthy Secrets, and then will offer me the job of my dreams.  It’s all about wearing the proverbial Bates sweatsuit.  You paid for it, wear it out.

Shhhh,

Steph

Existence Overhaul Part 3- Get off the couch: What I wish I had known in college that I am trying to do now to make-up for lost time.

So I had coffee with a dear friend the other day who (gasp) is still in college.  As she was talking with me about how she felt concerning her studies and that she really likes to put 100% of herself into each task that she tackles I found myself actually interrupting her and saying, “You’ve got to remember that!  That’s GREAT fodder for interviews!”  Sad, yes.  Not exciting, yes.  But man I’ll tell you, I wish I had a chance to have coffee with my post-graduate self while I was still in college.  I’d be unstoppable right now.  I’d be the employment Terminator 2.

But alas, this isn’t Back to the Future and I’m stuck where I am, watching Romanian movies on Netflix’s “Watch Instantly” option (which is what I’m doing as I’m writing this blog post).  In fact, I’m more of an employment bodhisattva rather than the Terminator: someone who sticks around after employment enlightenment to help others see the light.  This is because I’ve got no place to go, what they don’t tell you is nirvana can be quite boring.  Yes, you may understand everything and see everything in its’ thus-ness, but you don’t have access to Romanian movies on Netflix.  So here is the wisdom I have to offer those younger than myself:

1)   Yes, you need to think about what you want to do now.  Like right now.  I can’t tell you how many times I said to people that there was no rush to think about what I wanted to do with my life.  I had plenty of time.  Yeah plenty of time until I graduated and found that not only did I have to choose an industry and a type of work that I wanted to do but that I would have to explain why I was interested in said industry and work.  And I also found that volunteer work and internships would have been extremely helpful and would have set me apart from the incredibly large applicant pool.  So yes, now I know what I want to pursue, I have goals and I can explain these to you on the drop of a dime.  However, there were so many summers and so many free college evenings that I could have interned or volunteered in my interest areas if only I had ascertained what industry/job I wanted to focus on earlier.  I’m telling you, once you have an idea of what you want to do, you’re golden.  Explore that.  Which leads me to…

2)   Informational interviews are awesome.  Once you know where you want to focus, you can contact people in that field.  People who have the position you want.  And you ask them lots of questions about how they knew they wanted to do the work they are doing, how they prepared for it both academically and outside academia, what skills they deem integral to their position, and any resources or contacts you can refer to which may give you a better idea of your field on interest.  Or you shadow them for a week or two, great to put on your resume/ talk about in your cover letter.  I’m doing informational interviews now and I can’t tell you how they’ve helped.  I’ve learned what I need to highlight on my resume, some language pertinent to the field (like collegial and post-secondary and development), and activities in which I can engage that will make me a more competitive candidate for my field of interest.  You also get to make some friends and have people on your side.  It’s a great deal!

3)   Start analyzing your experiences now.  Make a resume, run it by friends, family, your network, and career services.  It’s amazing to leave college with a solid resume instead of scrambling once you realize you cant just walk to Career Services in your workout clothes anymore.  Having your resume ready means less work that you need to do upon graduation and it provides you with something you can show the people you contact and can help you discuss your experiences more thoroughly.  So you were a waitress one summer.  What does this have to do with your dream of being an Admissions Counselor you wonder?  Well, you gained valuable customer service skills for one.  An attention to detail, the ability to interact with diverse groups of people, and the ability to work in a fast paced environment.  I mean for God’s sake, you could be a guerilla warrior and argue how this makes you an ideal candidate for that marketing job- you can work well under pressure.  If you can find out some skills integral to the position you’re interested in and then find those skills within your own experiences, your cover letter is nearly written.

4)   Start looking early.  If you know where you want to be, fabulous.  If you’re like me and trying to coordinate with another person who is way more on top on their job search than you, or you just have no idea where you want to be, it’s a bit more difficult.  But look anyway.  Look wherever you have to and recognize that while you’re in school it’s not too early to apply to positions.  Now, while you’re writing thesis you barely have time to bathe more-or-less search for jobs and write cover letters but during short term, man I wish I had gotten on that.  Whatever time you have, use it wisely.  I can’t even imagine how good I would have felt leaving college with a job.  I left college with Jordan having a job, which meant I at least would have internet access wherever we lived and I wouldn’t starve, but it wasn’t the same feeling of elation.  And frankly, with him at work all day I’m turning into the cat lady I always knew I’d be, I just thought I would be 80 years old and at least own a cat instead of being 22 and incapable of even keeping a plant alive.

So that’s my advice right now.  My lonely cat-less lady advice.  And you should take heed of it, I guarantee you any graduate who reads these tips would agree.  Start now, one more year of classes won’t completely change your values and what you potentially want to make out of your career.  And if it does, then at least you know and you can start applying for volunteer/internship gigs, writing your resume, researching your career field of interest, creating your network, and searching for job postings.  It’s a lot of work and it’s daunting and not something you always trust yourself to know when you’re still in school.  But chances are you do know, you just have to probe a little.  And you’ll be glad you did.  In fact you may like it so much that you find your personal analyses start leaking their way into your day-to-day life.  And then you’ll be like me- your friend will be trying to pick a slice of apple out of her sangria glass with her fingers but the slice will keep slipping out of her grasp and you’ll hand her your fork to stab it with and smile, thinking about what a fabulous problem solver you are.

Shhhh,

Steph

RIP Coffee Maker- I hardly knew thee

So the coffee pot that carried me through my senior year at college has died.  My mother bequeathed the already heavily used machine to me as I left for Bates in August 2008.  I stared at it sitting on our kitchen counter in September 2009 and decided it was time for it to go.  It would periodically let out bursts of steam and they were beginning to scare me.  So we brought out the new coffee maker- a big Gevalia fancy thing.  But it will never hold the same place in my heart, I don’t care if it does have steel on the front of it.  I haven’t shared with it what I shared with my dear old coffee maker.  Brewing pots in the morning, in the afternoon, after dinner, at midnight, and at three in the morning- it treated me and all of my roommates well.  We owe it a lot.  RIP coffee maker.  You will be missed.

Shhhh,

Steph

I have PCVOAD: Post-College Visit Over-Analysis Disorder

Now you won’t find this disorder in the DSM but I’m suffering from it, I’m sure of it.  Like a great first date, I’ve been thinking about my Bates trip constantly since it finished.  I don’t even know how best to express “how it was”.  I guess what I would say is it was totally predictable and totally surprising at the same time.  Not very descriptive, I know.

I think back to one of my first blog posts ever about the Naughty By Nature concert at Bowdoin.  Now this was over a year ago (yikes) but I remember commenting on how friendly Batesies are.  And it’s true, look in any Barron’s-type book and you’ll see some Bates student talking about how nice everyone is.  Now, I tend to get cynical, and I tend to think that people sometimes aren’t very nice (because when you go to Ikea on a Sunday afternoon frankly people aren’t that nice and you leave the gigantic building with primary colors burning in your eyes, a bunch of useless little gadgets, perhaps a big ticket item like a bed frame or bookshelf, and a feeling of absolute disgust for humanity, especially that old lady who elbowed you out of the way in the “Marketplace.”  I know Sally Field and the medical community say old ladies have brittle bones but maybe “brittle” is their description for sharp and deadly.

But anyway, this trip solidified it for me, Batesies are nice.  I mean like really nice.  Jordan and I arrived at Bates around four hours after leaving our home.  Now, this should sound weird- it only takes about 2 ½ hours to get to Bates from Boston.  Unfortunately, not on a Friday afternoon when you’re following the directions of Jordan’s degenerate GPS.  The lady (Her name is Winona after the famous Ms. Ryder. I didn’t name her, Jordan’s the one crushing.  I would have named her something robotic like Adventura.  Maybe Crappy Adventura because she takes you on the most deluded routes known to (wo)man.  I don’t know what Satillite Winona’s getting her signals from, maybe it’s the satillite that signaled the actual Winona to shoplift all that stuff from Saks when SHE’S A MOVIE STAR.)  But I digress.  The point is, it took us forever to get to Bates.  And I packed my dinner because I don’t trust Winona and I knew we wouldn’t get there in time for a delicious dinner at Thai Jarean or Pats Pizza.  So after snapping at each other in traffic and then stopping at a rest stop so Jordan could get an Angus beef burger and I could get a water (I had drank a liter of Coke Zero earlier that day so I could stay awake at my archives gig and by that time my cells were shriveled and screaming out for water), we finally arrived at our Econolodge digs.  There we marveled at how tiny the room was and Jordan took one bite of his then-cold burger and threw it out in disgust.  Burger King can’t be eaten cold apparently.

So, what to do next?  I called a friend, Jordan called a friend, and everyone was at an off-campus house that was notorious for holding gigantic, out of control parties the last two years in a row.  As we drove over we peppered each other with questions:  Would it be incredibly packed?  Would people be sweating massively even though it was a cool fall night?  Would we want to run for the hills upon arriving?  But as we approached we saw… nothing.  No one was anywhere, no girls in the street with one high heel on yelling into their cell phones.  No billowing clouds of cigarette smoke.  No music blaring.  Nothing.  What?  This didn’t make sense.  I was convinced someone was going to pop out and get us like they do when it’s quiet in horror movies and CSI episodess.  But we made it to the door without getting accosted.

And when we entered, it was clean.  You could see the walls and furniture and architecture of the house.  In all my four years at Bates I had never seen these parts of this house and I’m not exaggerating.  And not only was it clean but it wasn’t crowded and they had just had a potluck there.  It reminded me of the old days.  It reminded me of a real house.

And another thing was that everyone seemed really happy.  I can’t remember if I was that happy or not at the beginning of my senior year but from what I can remember, I was.  I was so glad to be living off campus and to be the oldest at the school.  Seniority means a lot.  I knew Bates like the back of my hand, I knew the professors, I had a solid group of friends- I wanted for nothing socially.  It was the culmination of three years of social awkwardness and being unsure about going to certain parties.  As a senior I found I could go most anywhere and be welcomed.  It was nice to see the feeling of senior euphoria from the outside.

After turning down copious offers to have a cigarette , followed by bewildered exclamations of “YOU quit!?  Oh my god!  I’m going to quite after this year.  I stopped smoking for four days this summer you know…” Jordan and I headed to the show.  It was a great performance and Bates kids were dancing all over the place as usual.  I had three random people approach me and say things along the lines of “Comon, you gotta dance!”  I did what one does when one is accosted by someone who you know won’t remember approaching you in the morning- you placate them.  You go “Oh yeah, yeah okay.  I just need to get into it.  I’ll dance in three songs.”  And then they’ll tell you that they’re going to come back in three songs to make sure you’re dancing but they never do, they never do.

So heading home the next day after a late-night dinner of Papa John’s and beer and a restful Econolodge slumber Jordan and I debriefed.  We were really happy for our friends still there.  They seem to have made really fabulous lives for themselves and they’ve decorated their homes way better than anyone in my class.  My old apartment looks even better than ours did and let me tell you, ours was way better than it was the year before us when they had blow up pool toys on top on the dining room table.  We also enjoyed looking at Bates events from the outside, aka. Completely sober and members of the real world.  We never really realized that Bates students were so apt to approach strangers and command them to dance and we both hoped we had never done that to anyone.  Well we know it was never us because we’re both way too introverted for that type of behavior but still, it was like we were two anthropologists attending some tribal ceremony that was familiar and completely ridiculous to us at the same time.  It was an “Ohhh, this makes so much sense” kind of moment.

So, will we go back?  I will if Jordan promises that we won’t listen to the whiny directions of Winona the GPS.  What did I learn from this trip?  That Bates is still a  great place to be, that the Econolodge curtains are so thick that they block all traces of morning light, that the small size of Papa John’s pizza is really small but it’s okay because each individual piece is a really cute, tiny triangle, and that you can’t eat an Burger King steak burger cold.  I’d say, all-in-all, it was definitely a learning experience.

Here are a few photos from the journey for your viewing enjoyment:

Boston traffic. Me being photographer out of sheer boredom.

A pretty rainbow we saw on the way.

Standoff between Jordan and cold steak burger in the Econolodge.

The quad. I just had to take a photo.

I wanted another Bates picture and Admissions in near the quad. I’m a lazy photographer.

We found a car tinier than the mini. Oh, the cuteness of inanimate objects.

Shhhh,

Steph

When “Work” No Longer Means Paper Writing

I had an interview at BU earlier this week for a position in their Educational Resource Center.  The interview took place in their student union (something that is a mystery to me for there is no office “student union” at Bates).  A few things I noted about the space: 1) there were Bank of America ATMs instead of TD Banknorth ATMS, 2) the building was HUGE (there are over 30,000 BU students), and 3) they had a food court on the first floor.  Now the food court was the most fascinating for me- it was exactly like the food courts one visits at the mall.  There was a burger place, a sandwich place, a wrap place, a dessert place, a Chinese food place, and yes, a candy store.  I almost expected to see a Forever 21 every time I rounded a corner.  The shear magnitude of the building blew my mind.  And don’t even get me started on the little 7-11 type store they had as well.  Every kind of gum you could ever possibly want, every type of granola bar, shampoo, deodorant, and soda.  No slurpees or big gulps however with a hologram of The Hulk on the side.  That would have really taken the cake.  I do have to say though, it was grand and flashy but on further reflection I’m glad Bates didn’t have any place like this or I would have had no money because I would have spent it all on jaw breakers, diet root beer, and mediocre general tso’s chicken.

Yes, the student union was a mall but what really got me was that this place was teeming with students.  I mean teeming!  All different types of people all clamoring around, buying orange chicken and BU key chains that will never be used.  (I know because I bought a Bates one when I first got to Bates but they are so impractical that unless you’re a lifeguard and have a light little whistle dangling from it, they are silly.  I say this because what, do you wear your keys like the charm on a necklace?  I don’t know about you but my key bunch is massive and heavy.  I would never wear it around my neck, especially not facing backwards with the keys cascading down my back like the cool lifeguards do.  Then the weight of all my grocery store discount cards would choke me.)

But anyway, seeing these students bustling about was a trip because I realized I wasn’t there for the same purpose as most of the people I saw, I was there to get a job.  Yikes.  I wanted the school to pay ME rather than ME (or to their credit, my mom and dad) pay them.  I really felt the difference though if I hadn’t been wearing a black blazer and carrying a shoulder briefcase-type bag I probably would have blended right now.  I wasn’t sad that I am no longer a student, I realize I had more of a paternalistic feeling of nostalgia.  An “Awwww, look at all these cute college kids with their Ray-bans and gladiator sandals, I bet they all just bought binders” type feeling.  Which is good because I’ve graduated.  And who wants to be that person that can’t let go of college right?

Well, speaking of people who can’t let go of college, this would be a good time to mention that a week before this BU trip I had purchased tickets for Jordan and I to see Matt and Kim play at Bates in our old dining hall.  Now Matt and Kim are what I would deem a “hipster band”, a band that was relatively unknown and then one day one of their more famous songs appears in a Bacardi commercial and the masses yell with glee and groove to their TV sets while the “real fans” sit back and sulk, discussing how they can’t believe Matt and Kim sold out.  But regardless of whether their song was played at a dive bar frequented by a number of ironically tattooed men wearing thick rimmed glasses and plaid or played on the TV to visuals of stick thin women in sequined dresses shimmying is besides the point- their songs are catchy and Kim is my hero.  She is a badass drummer and always smiling.

So, I bought tickets to go.  And Jordan and I had to face our next dilemma: Where would we stay?  We had a number of options- we could stay with our professors/ employers from Bates who had been/are becoming friends since graduation or we could stay with our pals who are now seniors and live off campus- a good number of them in the house I lived in last year.  The thought of that creeped me out.  You know the popular saying about not eating where you poop (to put it kindly)?  Well for me this was an issue of not sleeping where I chain smoked cigarettes and worked like an intellectual orphan child in “Annie”.  Because now as a non-smoker and a human being not consumed by issues of Buddhism and feminism, I was different.  So we opted for the Econolodge, a place where my parents frequented.  The Econolodge is cheap and is a MacDonald’s establishment.  It’s not nice but it’s safe, I know what I’m going to get and though I might not feel on top of the world after frequenting it, I know I won’t be ill either.

So Jordan and I had it booked: one night, one concert, one alma mater, and one room at the Econolodge.  Neither of us knew how we would feel upon arriving.  We decided we would have a debriefing on the 2 ½ hour drive home.  I will notify you of what we discussed on our return.  That is IF we return.

Shhhh,

Steph

Existence Overhaul Part 2: Hitting the Books

If you’re anything like me, thinking about the career path you want to pursue as a post-grad is an intensely difficult question.  I left Bates with quite a few passions and a lot of knowledge on a lot of different subjects (bless the liberal arts education) however, I did not leave with any specific dream to be a brain surgeon or a banker (bless the liberal arts education?).  In fact, I left having no idea what I wanted to pursue job-wise because the career of philosopher hasn’t been particularly lucrative for anyone except white men.

So, as a few of my past posts have pointed out, I floundered for a bit in the first few months post-graduation, using my shoddy college resume and silly cover letters to apply for nonprofit positions and positions in post-secondary education institutions in the Boston area.  All without direction.  And looking back on that time, thank goodness I never got called in to interview for any of those positions for I knew absolutely nothing.   Most frustrating of all, I knew nothing about what I wanted out of a position.  So if I had been confronted with the classic interview questions back then: “So tell me about yourself” and “Why are you interested in this position?” I would have unloaded a bunch of nervous BS upon whoever was unfortunate enough to be interviewing me.  Not good.

Finally, I decided that enough was enough and that I was at my wits end.  So I turned to the books.  That’s what this post is about- the hitting the books portion of my Existence Overhaul journey.  I went to Barnes and Noble and buried myself in the Job Search aisle.  I ended up buying five books, four of which I have used religiously, and one that was a dud buy because it only provides me with resumes for biology research positions and advertising.  And I am neither Bill Nye nor Don Draper so this book was utterly useless.

But anyway, what was so fabulous about reading these books is not only did they provide me with tips for writing effective resumes and cover letters but they also discussed job search etiquette and the tasks that any effective job searcher needs to perform beyond simply sending out applications.  These books highlighted the importance of writing thank you notes after an interview and also discussed tips for successful networking.  Now, as Jordan aptly pointed out one day, we pay $200,000 (or some ridiculous equivalent amount) for a number of years spent studying, writing papers, and becoming addicted to certain substances.  But beyond that, we spend this money for the college name and the connections that come with it.  My connection with Bates is not dissolved now that I’ve graduated.  In fact, in some ways it’s becoming stronger than ever, for not only did I make some of the best friends I’ve ever had and snagged a post-college live-in boyfriend who likes the same trashy MTV shows as I do out of the experience, but I’ve been cruising the Bates alumni scene and Batesies are all over.  I mean all over.  Especially in Boston.  And what’s so great is that the majority of them are more than willing to help Bates post-grads out, whether that means helping you get a job in the company they work for or just meeting with you to discuss their career path.  I’ve had numerous really fruitful meetings with Bates alums discussing both the nonprofit and post-secondary education fields and these conversations have always proved helpful.  It’s also just nice to meet up with someone new with whom you share such a specific tie.  One piece of advice I would give any graduate of any school: utilize your alumni/ae network.  It’s a great way to get more out of your education post-grad.

Along with offering helpful tips on etiquette, networking, and creating your job search paperwork, many career books also offer helpful exercises that help you think about your skills, values, and passions and then help you take this information and see what jobs/careers would be appropriate for someone with your commitments.  This is a really enjoyable part of the job search (or it was for me as I lovelovelove analyzing myself.  Though it’s not always the best trait, I believe being introspective and brutally honest with yourself is integral in your job search process if you want to be happy).

But anyway, here’s an example of something I learned about myself in the past few months that will influence decisions I make concerning work for the rest of my life:  Moving to Boston without a job gave me empty days that would only be filled if I filled them myself.  I had no schedule, no places I had to go, and no people I had to see.  For some this would be a dream.  For me, I hate it.  I hate having to make my own schedule!  I’m someone who needs a schedule and preferably a schedule that is partially dictated by me and partially dictated by outside sources.  In the exercises I did concerning possible career choices, I was able to recognize this fact about me and realize that I would love a job in an office environment.  Now we aren’t talking Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle, but more a nice office environment where I can interact with people and from where I can do the majority of my work duties.  I like separating work from home I’ve come to learn and so you will never find me “working from home.”  I would perish.  I would drink cup after cup of lukewarm Maxwell House coffee while wearing spandex and basically become a shell of a human being.  These are important realizations one has to make if one hopes to pick a career field that can make them feel happy and fulfilled.

Another thing to consider is what you value in life.  I value time with friends and family, time to myself, and helping others help themselves (among other things).   Just from this declaration of values I can glean that I want a job that does not monopolize all of my time and that makes me feel as if I’m helping people make a positive difference in their own lives.  So stock broker- out.  Night-shift nurse-out.  See, this is fun!

So, my suggestion to you in this specific post would be to check out some of the books out there that tackle the subject of the job search.  There are a lot, in bookstores, libraries, and college career services.  Here are a few titles that I’ve appreciated:

From BA to Payday: Launching Your Career After College

By D.A. Hayden and Michael Wilder

You Majored in What?  Mapping your path from chaos to career.

By Katharine Brooks

Can I Wear My Nose Ring to the Interview? A Crash Course in Finding, Landing, and Keeping Your First Real Job

By Ellen Gordon Reeves

Remember, it is inevitably confusing when you leave the pearly gates of higher education to enter into the real world.  However, hopefully you’ve left with some ideas about what you like and don’t like, what you value, and what you want out of your life.  Think about these and hit the books- figure out how your personality could best fit into the work world.  You’ll feel less lost and therefore happier, and you’ll be able to give a bang-up answer to the question “Tell me a bit about yourself” (which secretly means, “tell me the reasons why you fit with this position?”)  See?  I’ve learned so much already.

Next in our program comes “Existence Overhaul Part 3- Get off the couch: What I wish I had known in college that I am trying to do now to make-up for lost time. “ Sigh.

Shhhh,

Steph

So You Think You’re a Problem-Solver?

Fortunately, I’ve been asked to interview for a few jobs.  To me, this means that my job applications are not complete trash.  I must admit it’s nice to be acknowledged after I’ve put in so much work.  And I mean I’ve put in A LOT of work.  Here’s a story that might express to you exactly how much work I’ve been doing over the past few months:

So I was hanging out on my front porch, with a glass of water and my laptop.  You know, listening to some tunes, hydrating, the usual lazy summer activity.  I got particularly excited about a certain music video I was watching (on my laptop) and made an emphatic gesture.  This gesture knocked my glass of water onto my laptop keyboard.  At first I was frozen in fear.  I didn’t have any money for a new laptop and I needed this machine.  It is my portal to the outside world and sometimes my only friend during the day.  Someone I know who is super adept at computers restructured my laptop for me as a kind, kind favor.  My computer was so sluggish that the reformatting took about a day.  Now I didn’t know this at the time, I thought he was only going to have it for a couple of hours.  When he told me he would like to keep it overnight I almost cried.  I am not kidding.  My eyes started to sting and I felt a lump in my throat.  Jordan tried to console me, saying I could use his computer for the day.  But I didn’t want his computer.  It didn’t have my background picture; it didn’t have my blogs nicely bookmarked.  It didn’t have anything my crappy 2005 Mac has and it certainly wouldn’t provide me the friendship I needed that next day.  I almost didn’t do it.  But then I did.  And I survived and now my laptop moves quite a bit faster.  Though it updates like 10,000 times a day.  But the point of this story is that I almost cried at the thought of not having my laptop for ONE DAY.  So when water was seeping into the keyboard, I was more than terrified.  It was like watching a child drown, my child.

Anyway, I had to think fast- “What do I want/need to save off of this thing before it’s gone?” I asked myself.  Only one thing came to mind and no it wasn’t pictures of my family- it was my “Job Search” document folder.  I ran into the office and grabbed my data stick, ran back, and moved the folder from my computer to this external data drive, all the while sweating like Tom Cruise when he’s trying to dismantle a bomb in movies.  “It’s copying so slowly!” I wailed, “Why is it going so slow!?”  Well my friends, it was going so slow because I was copying over 200 word documents onto my data stick.  Over 200.  I cannot believe that I even created 200 documents related to my job search.  211 to be exact.  So needless to say I’m working hard and I praise the universe every time I get invited to interview.

Now there are a few stock questions one should prepare to answer when going to an interview.  These include the inevitable “So tell me about yourself.”  This one is a tough one because what do you say?  I usually begin with “Well I just graduated from Bates College…” and then proceed to talk about what passions I developed there and how these passions relate to the job/career I want.  Another tough question is “What is your greatest weakness?”  Now, you can’t answer this question honestly.  Ever.  You have to lie.  You have to think of something that only sometimes causes a slight inconvenience and then talk about how you’ve changed so that it no longer causes you inconvenience anymore.  I’m not going to give away my answer online because if any potential employers look at this website my spot will be blown, but I’d be happy to share my answer with you one on one.  Just ask me.

But anyway, the question I want to focus on in this post is the question that deals with problem solving.  Now I am a problem-solver.  A for-real problem-solver.  And unfortunately, for people like me, saying you’re a problem solver in an interview sounds trite at best and downright desperate at worst.  If you make this claim in an interview, expect that your interviewer will ask you for an example.  And you better have one.

Now, because I’m a natural problem-solver, I solve problems all the time.  In fact, I have a hard time remembering what I’ve solved.  I’ve often asked Jordan the night before an interview “Hey, remember I solved that big problem earlier this week?  I cant remember what it was, can you?”  And he goes “Ohhhh yeah, I remember you solved something but I can’t remember what.”  Well, this isn’t going to happen anymore.  And why not?  Because I’m documenting every time I solve a problem.  I’m writing it down and I’m taking pictures.  Here is a picture of a problem I solved last night:

Jordan’s old Itouch (which he has now given to me because he has an Iphone) wouldn’t stay upright in my Ipod player and I couldn’t find the proper back piece to make it do so.  So I looked around our island and used a Dentyne Ice gum packet as the makeshift back piece.  I’m the new female MacGyver.  And I have pictures to prove it.

Shhhh,

Steph

Hunting for Witches

The weather this past week has been absolutely beautiful, I’ve had a few job interviews and meetings with Bates alums, which have got me outside and traveling around the area.  I’ve been relishing the cooler weather as I no longer have to turn on the air conditioner in the bedroom before getting in the shower so I can rush back into the cool bedroom after I leave the shower- otherwise I start sweating and cease to dry off, completely counteracting the purpose of showering.

Jordan got this Friday off so we decided to take advantage of the beautiful day.  I had been badgering him for some time to take me to Salem, MA.  After reading a Sarah Vowell essay on the place, I realized how a trip to Salem could be both historically interesting and morbid- a combination that usually cannot be beat.

Anyway, the day began with us rushing out the door, I had promised Jordan I would be ready by 11.  It was 11:10 and he was getting impatient and I don’t blame him, I do take a long time.  But I needed the go back for the sun block- it was crucial, I burn easily.  So as I rushed out the door I asked if I needed keys.  “No” he said, he was driving, he had the keys.  So he closed the door behind me (because my arms were full with the list of things to do I had created the night before, my lunch to go, the sunblock, and my sneakers).  Just after the door shut he swore violently.  He didn’t have the keys.  And the door locks automatically.  And we stupidly hadn’t stored a spare key anywhere.  And I didn’t have my keys.  Whoops.  We were locked out.

Our landlord was out, so while Jordan was swearing and pacing around, I called him.  He said he’d be back in 2 hours.  A lot happened, things were googled, and I was relegated to “watching our stuff” on the front porch while he huffed around in the back of the house, trying to see if he could push in my beloved bedroom air conditioner to get it.  (Like the old woman who walks her dog down our street 15 times a day will want to steal my ratty high tops and my lentil lunch) But he is paranoid, hence why I was watching our lunches and the sunblock on our front doorstep, and hence why we couldn’t break in as he had been diligent about making sure the conditioner was stuck.in.good.  So no go.

Now, I’m only saying this because it is my blog and he probably won’t read this post and because I deserve some credit, but… I knew what to do from the beginning.  Why?  Because I have insane problem-solving skills.   And I know this apartment like the back of my hand.  I don’t just spend my days in the house wandering, writing job applications, and cooking.  I am looking around, I am taking things in.  I am sweating and hence I open and close windows.  So I happened to know that the high window above the sink was open.  All we had to do was get me up there to cut the screen on each lower side of the window, stick my fingers in and unlock the screen and then open the window.  And then hoist myself in the house over the sink.  Simple.

But he was cranky and dismissed my idea, instead googling how to break into a house.  (the degree to which we depend on technology, sigh)  Well, not so surprisingly, the internet told us nothing.  Eventually I threatened to leave him and go to the library to read O magazine until our landlord returned and that seemed to snap him out of his funk.  I grabbed some old rusty shears, cut that screen standing on a makeshift ladder, and by golly I raised that screen and climbed in that window and saved the day.  I was NOT missing my day in Salem.

So, with that beginning we headed to Salem.  Now, Salem is a bizarre place.  It is a bougie little New England town right next to visibly lower-income living areas.  It took one block to leave the apartment houses and enter into witch county, nice houses, nice cars, and lots of kitsch.  There is a red line that runs throughout the town, supposedly leading you to all the sights such as the Witch Museum or Count Orlof’s Nightmare Gallery.  This red line fascinated me, and we followed it the whole time.  It was like a GPS except free and less explanatory.  We had no idea where it was taking us but by golly it had to be relevant.  It took us to the waterfront where we watched old men fish and where Jordan became fascinated with a liquor store called the “Bunghole” because it was called the “Bunghole”.  We walked past a candy shop where we each had a piece of marzipan and sat and ate it while Salem witch bees continuously landed on me making that whole eating experience uncomfortable.  The line led us to a very old cemetery that had some famous men buried there whose names I didn’t recognize.  We passed a few museums with the name “witch” in their names and paused at a giant witch statue.  The witch’s face was super wrinkled.  “Before Botox” Jordan commented.  We decided that Botox could utilize the Salem witch tragedy as a marketing campaign- Ladies, use Botox and you’ll be less wrinkly and therefore less likely to be read as a witch by the community and mercilessly killed.  History does repeat itself you know.

There were a number of kitschy stores that made puns using wordage related to witches in their signage.  Outside one “museum” there was a diorama in the front window of some Puritan ladies hanging from trees while the hanger leaned nonchalantly against a bush (I think the figure had tipped over).  Finally, we came to what I had wanted: a recreation of some stocks.  To be honest, the reason I wanted to go to Salem was because I wanted to get a photo in the stocks.  Unfortunately Jordan didn’t catch me at my stocky-est, and I don’t like the picture much.  I plan to take a new one when we return in October to do a ghost walk.

Here are some photos of the trip.

New Age- Tools for Personal Growth

The Bunghole

A friend I met following the red line.

The gruesome diorama

Me in the stocks

The end of the line

Amazingly, on our way back to our car, the red line we had followed the whole day had just ended.  It didn’t take us in a circle, it didn’t lead us anywhere special.  Just after the gruesome diorama, the stocks, and a Zionist building of some sort, the line ended.  I didn’t know what to do.  Who planned this?  Come on, it should at least go out with a bang, stop at some amazing building or a profound tree or something.  But I guess the end of the red line was a metaphor for the end of the witch trials, they just kind of stopped.  Probably in both cases men got bored.

Shhhh,

Steph