...and the search continues!

Today marks the end of week 3 of my job search. Really, the job search started sometime in October, but since I was also working and going to school, it was not a dedicated search—merely looking here and there, at this and that when the mood struck me. (Can I get any vaguer?)

I have now been on three interviews, one of them with a staffing agency. I actually went on one interview this week at a construction supply company where the gentleman interviewing began with an open door, but a few moments into the meeting he got up and gently shut the door. He proceeded to tell me “Look, being honest with you—you don’t want to work here. You’re nice and intelligent, and trust me, you wouldn’t want to be here.” (He didn’t know that compliments like that go straight to my head, in the same way that Krispy Kremes go straight to my hips.) We talked a few moments more, and while he remained pretty elusive about the specific reasons I wouldn’t want to work in his office, I got the hint. I appreciate the candor, I suppose.

The interviewer and I talked about the job market and how hard it is to get a job these days—it turns out he commutes from Orlando. To me, that’s absurd. Shouldn’t we be commuting to Orlando, not vice versa? He also said that it took his wife six months to find a job in Orlando. If Orlando’s job situation is a barometer as to Melbourne’s, well then, I feel very discouraged!

Either way, I am continuing to trudge along in my pursuit of fulfilling employment. I am being a good wife, listening to good music, and exercising. It really does feel nice to have time to myself, although I really think would find more bliss in employment.

I am currently working on filing an application and going through the arduous process of becoming a teacher. I think I’d like to teach home economics/family and consumer sciences in high school. At least the starting salary is $36K. It’s so funny that everyone complains about how poorly teachers are compensated, but their salary is looking awesome to me!

From here on out, I am done wallowing in self-pity.

The Yuppy Puppy

Well, November is almost over and I have no blogs posted thus far in this month! Shameful, I know, but in my defense it has been a busy month.

James and I are getting ready for the Christmas holidays--we've bought a tree, decorated it, and even put up lights on the outside of the house. Ahh, I live for Christmas time. I love the music, the friends and family, cozy sweaters, piping hot apple cider, and Christmas cheer in general.

This upcoming month is very exciting for me because I graduate from the University of Central Florida with my bachelor's degree. That's big! I am also looking for a job, which is pretty time-consuming. Thus far, I estimate that I have sent my resume to about 20 companies, and have received only one call back. I am not discouraged though; I have faith that the right job will find me if I work hard enough. It's tough to think about finding a job in the midst of final exams, research papers and numerous final projects. At this point though, I only have to make it through 1 and a half weeks, and I will be through! What an encouraging thought...

I'd throw off the groove of my blog if I just left an update on my life with no poignant thoughts on something worth thinking about. What I want to say isn't really that important though--it's actually quite self-centered. But isn't that part of blogging? If I wasn't self-centered, I wouldn't bother to blog in hopes that a bored public would be entertained by my musings. Anyhow...

Today, my millionaire boss called me a "yuppy". This came about after I explained how a particular salary wouldn't justify the work involved in a particular job. ($35K annually for a job that often requires 60-70 and sometimes 80 hours of work per week!) My Mercedes-AND-Lamborghini driving boss proceeded to tell me how she and her son could easily survive on 35K annually. She paid no attention to my arguments, but rather insisted that I am a "yuppy" because I don't shop at WAL-Mart and I drive a Honda Element.

What?!

She knows that I choose not to shop at WAL-Mart because of their un-humanistic capitalism and their disrespect for their employees and customers (and millions of other reasons!) And what does driving a Honda have to do with being a yuppy? Did she bother to look in her own garage? Because there is a Lamborghini and a Mercedes SUV sitting in there! Can you afford either on $35,000 a year? An Element is, in my opinion, a humble and function-oriented car. It has never been a status-symbol for me. Ever. I just like the dang car!

Here’s the thing—I think of yuppies as being materialistic and socially-driven. I never want that to be me. In fact, it is not me. But if I am a “yuppy” because I drive a Honda Element and I have strong ideals, so be it. I am not a snob.

I am probably a lot more agitated about the comment than I should be; I just don't ever want to be classified as a "yuppy".

And on that note, I am taking my dog Brian to his groomer, called "The Yuppy Puppy" on Friday for a haircut.


Sheesh...can't they change the name?

Go to bed angry!

In my conflict management class today, the professor briefly mentioned the popular piece of advice that states “you should never go to bed angry.” This is most often told to couples who are soon to wed, coming as solid advice from well-meaning, married, “experts”. (Obviously, I say that facetiously. Most often, I have noticed that this advice comes from old, bitter people who don’t seem to view their matrimony as “blissful” or anything relatively close--but again, it’s just an observation.)

I say “go to bed angry”! Yes, I said it—I broke the rule. I thought about this a lot, and it means enough to me to spend 10 minutes blogging, so hear me out.

In the heat of the moment, when you are angry, you’re least open for considering plausible solutions or collaborating on a resolution. Often, one person will accommodate the other (sometimes begrudgingly) so that the two can go to bed at peace with one another.

My advice is to summarize the issues at hand, and agree to go to bed and discuss the issue over a pot of coffee in the morning.

Perhaps when the red of anger has cleared and a new day has begun, the parties are more open and available to come up with options and win-win solutions.

So, go to bed angry, but only after you have made plans to discuss the issues when anger is no longer so strong.

Crossroads (not the box office "flop" starring Britney Spears)

Some people have always had a plan and they know where they’re going. Variables don’t even enter their minds. You know, those people who throughout school say:

"I am going to go to school to be a teacher, then I'll get married, buy a house, and two years later have a kid named [insert name here] and two years later have another named [insert name here]"

and then they somehow make it happen, apparently never veering from their “destiny”. They take their coffee to work in the same insulated mug everyday, bring it home, and wash it out for the next day’s use. To me that is impressive. If I see someone repeatedly use the same insulated beverage container I think “that person has it together”.

Now, you know where I am going with this. I have never had it together like that. I didn’t know what I wanted to do when I graduated high school, and submitted an application to USF at 11:30pm the day of the freshman application cutoff. Then, even though I was accepted and went to school there, it only lasted 4 days before I took an opportunity in Washington, DC. Then I meet James, drop out of the program and marry him. I then get a job, and decide after enjoying said job, that I need to go back to school. So, here I am 2 and a half years later, in Florida again, about to graduate with my bachelor’s degree. I am at a crossroads, once again, and am not sure what is going to happen. A job would be nice. But now I am tossing around the idea of grad school, or culinary school (just in my head…), or maybe creating my own business.

Now, there are also those who lack ambition… you know, the type. It takes them 6 years to complete community college while they work at Barnes and Noble and complain about money being tight. I don’t want you to confuse my type with the ambitionless. People like me have ambition, we often lack direction. Perhaps we don’t really want direction.

Now, as I write I am not looking for guidance, or even sympathy for that matter. I have just realized that I really admire the people who are structured enough to create a plan, follow through, use the same mug everyday, and maintain order. Good for them!
But for the rest of us…

Will we ever settle into a pattern or routine? Can we ever be structured? Do we want to be?

Middle School and Oral Contraceptives?

Everyone is talking about the Portland, Maine middle school that gave an “ok” to distribute birth control to middle school students through the school’s health center. Crazy, yes, and I could go on all day about the social implications and the societal ills that allowed for such a situation, but I won’t. Logically, it just doesn’t make sense to most sane and grounded Americans.

My concern is that we’re not looking at all the effects of sexual activity in children this young. Sure, let’s control unwanted pregnancies, but what about sexually transmitted diseases and the psychological effects of premature sexual activity?

If sexually active middle school girls are on birth control pills, will they still insist that their partner wear a condom to prevent possible disease? I fear that the “smart” sexually active pre-teens who actually use condoms will no longer continue to do so, because they know that pregnancy is no longer a concern with oral contraceptives. Few middle school girls have the persistence and self-confidence to insist that their male counterpart still wear a condom if she is on “the pill”, and few boys would choose to do so! A sexually transmitted disease can be lifelong, just as a baby is, and condoms are the only way to prevent STDs.

We accept that many children, pre-teens, and teenagers use intravenous drugs recreationally—do we hand out hypodermic needles so that they can do so more safely? Sounds absurd, but it’s the same logic. Although young men and young women use drugs, we still teach them that they should avoid such activities altogether.

4parents.gov is a research-based government website that encourages abstinence and instructs parents in how to talk to their teens about sexual activity. Here’s a clip from the website that talks about the psychological implications of teen sex:

“People often believe that the only risks from teens having sex are pregnancy or
getting an STD. Not true. Teens who have sex are at risk for emotional problems
too.

It has been clear for quite some time that teen sex and emotional problems such as depression are related. What has not been clear is if teen sex causes depression, or depression causes teens to have sex. Recent research suggests that both may be true. Teens, especially girls, who have sexual intercourse may be at greater risk for
depression. And depression in teens is now known to lead to risky sexual behaviors.

A 2005 study recommended that teen girls who have sex be screened for depression. This journal article found that teen girls who had sex, took drugs, and/or started drinking were up to three times more likely to be depressed a year later than girls who did not take those risks.”

Ultimately, children need to be taught that sex is part of a healthy adult marital relationship. Let them decide from there. But don't encourage sex and unsafe sex in middle school by giving kids birth control pills. America is on the wrong path—war, loose morals, our economy, etc. Let’s learn some lessons from the fall of Rome, and start building toward something lasting and grounded.

Grievances

Have I ever mentioned how much I love Seinfeld?

It has been a while since I blogged, and I thought tonight I would list some grievances and get some petty things off of my chest. Notice that I mentioned petty. Don’t judge me, just realize this is meant to be funny, and I am feeling pretty cynical tonight. Also, I don’t think I am better than other people. I just like to say it a lot. So, just enjoy the following, and don’t judge me.

First of all, to Michelle Morales, who taught me what a split end is. She showed me how to spot split ends in her hair, and I am now an obsessive-compulsive-split-end-picker. I can even find them on my dog. Sheesh.

To my mom, who was the first one to mention to me how much she hates for the spines of her paperback books to be bent. I am now one of the most anal people you will ever meet when it comes to the care and maintenance of paperbacks. (I also like to be really careful with the dust jackets of my hardback books.)

To BamBam, my cat for 16 years. While I feel guilty for mentioning the departed in my list of grievances, BamBam deserves it. He used to hide under my bed, and when I turned off the light to go to bed at night he would attack my feet and ankles. Jerk. I guess it was pretty funny though, but when I go to bed even now and turn off the light I still think that he is going to sink his teeth into my feet.


And while we’re on the topic of feeling guilty for mentioning the deceased, my granny told me that I had “hefty legs”. I know it’s true, but now I know that other people notice too. Thanks a lot. Thanks also for the adage “A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips”—it keeps me from eating that 2nd dozen of Krispy Kremes.

To my brother: I still fear for my Achilles tendon every time I grocery shop. You used to slam the cart into my tendon on purpose, and for that you are a jerk. But I love you.

To the overweight football player in my Geometry class in high school: I do not have big earlobes. If you wanted to point out a flaw of mine, stick with the ankles like everyone else does, you fattie.

To the kid in my Anatomy and Physiology class who noticed my “cankles”. You didn’t ever have to mention it; it’s just my bone structure. If you recall, my BMI was lower than yours, and my great clavicles make up for my spread out tibia, fibula and talus. I am still better than you.

To my husband for becoming angry at me for eating the last of the cherries. Yes, I did eat them. No biggie, because they’re still in season for a few weeks. He wasn’t really mad, but still. I would like to eat cherries without a guilt trip. That’s the worst thing I can say about you, and for this I am thankful.

To Chuck Palahniuk. You are a talented writer, yes, you are. Fight Club is genius, as are your other novels. However, they are very vulgar and I am unable to read them in good conscience. You’re gifted, but you suck.

To the woman at Victoria’s Secret who downgraded me to a 32A. You’ll be thrilled to know that I am now a perfect 32C. Don’t ever call me an A cup again. I am bigger and better than that, so to speak.

To my fourth grade teacher, Ms. Crawford. That time that you told me to wait to go to the restroom, I peed in my pants a little. I was new to the school, and thankfully no one noticed because a simple untucking of my shirt solved the problem. You could have ruined my newly-established reputation. Thanks a lot. If you are a teacher reading this, please honor your students’ requests to use the restroom.

To the check-out girl at Toys-R-Us today: I wasn’t interested in hearing about your 21 month-old, your 3 nephews in New Jersey, or your sister-in-law who is expecting. Just because I was in a toy store does not make me a baby-talk craving individual. In fact, I am quite the opposite. You literally followed me to the door and were still talking as I ducked out.

P.S. No one cares that you are “the best coupon swiper”. Your co-worker didn’t care, I didn’t care, and even your manager didn’t care.

Also, why can’t people differentiate between to, too, and two and your and you’re? Please, learn to tell the difference between these when you write. Studies have shown that if you can differentiate between these few words, you’ll make 37% more per year than those who can’t. I made the stat up, but I am sure it is true.

WAL-Mart. Oh, WAL-Mart. You’re slashing prices? Is that right? You’re slashing the American public. Our citizens are afraid of terrorists and radical Islamic factions, but you, my friend are what we should fear! Your dirty stores with unsmiling, unhappy, unkempt cashiers and staff are a disgrace. The fact that you are so sub-par and continue to make money astounds me. Your business practices are foul, dirty, and underhanded. I will go no further, because I could go on all day. It’s shameful.

Oh, and last but not least, to the social networking websites (i.e. Facebook and Myspace)—what a waste of my time! And yet, I can’t stop. . .