tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28922726345729645642024-03-13T22:20:11.610-04:00The GraduetteSo this is what it's like to be at the entry level.Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11565574703735581474noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892272634572964564.post-7974398550410655862012-01-06T11:53:00.000-05:002012-01-06T11:53:28.622-05:00#57My biggest takeaway from yogic philosophy is that we are all connected to one another; we share inherent similarities despite our many surface differences. I find peace and optimism in that, and try to incorporate it into my daily life.<br />
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But what do you do when you encounter someone whose personality seems to share absolutely nothing with yours? How can you find the connection when someone is actively challenging your notion that any sort of connection exists? This happened to me recently, and sent me spinning into the negative. I don't like feeling belittled; no one does. It's so easy to use your own negative reaction as a tool to harm the other person back--and eye for an eye, as always.<br />
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I can't do that. It just continues to undo any ties that bind us. I'm not going to agree with everyone. I'm not going to get along with everyone. And inevitably, I will cross paths with people who will challenge my beliefs. But I can turn back to what yoga teaches: non-attachment. Do your duty, do your dharma but forgo any attachment to the outcome.<br />
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Furthermore, Patanjali gives us our four keys for the four locks of people in this world: friendliness toward the happy, compassion for the unhappy, delight for the virtuous, and disregard for the wicked. These four keys keep our minds calm, peaceful, and help us to remember that none of us is perfect.Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11565574703735581474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892272634572964564.post-31216752545189569002011-10-19T11:18:00.000-04:002011-10-19T11:18:22.101-04:00Running PrincessesSorry to be gone for nine months. My bad. Now that I no longer have a wedding to plan, I hope to be a little more consistent.<br />
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That's right! I am an old married lady now, for a whole 32 days. Kyle and I have absolutely relished not having to plan a wedding anymore. We have our lives to worry about again! Hooray! Oh, and for the record: we had an awesome wedding. Everything was perfect; we couldn't have asked for a better day. Now we just sit back with our new kitchen gadgets and dinnerware and wait for all of the photos to arrive....<br />
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In relishing this long-absent freedom, I have decided to try something a little bit bold and scary: I registered for my first half marathon this week. And not just any half marathon, no! The Disney Princess Half Marathon. Awwww yeeeah. Kyle's parents pleasantly surprised us with a trip to Disneyworld in February, and we decided to go the same weekend as the half marathon. It's something I've thought about doing for a long time, and now it seems the stars have aligned. Plus, when you finish, they give you a tiara. Suffice to say that I am psyched, though a little wary of training for a 13.1 mile event in the coldest months of Michigan's winter. But that's what gyms are for, right? And I may as well put that Y membership to good use.<br />
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So get ready, dear reader(s), because I am puttin' on the running shoes and will likely bring you along for the ride. I've already enlisted the help of some friends who have completed marathons/half marathons, and I hope to find a partner in crime to train with me, maybe even remotely. (Kyle's not really into running, and he can't participate in the marathon I signed up for 'cause it's ladies only. But no worries, he's going to make some baller posters to keep me motivated.) I've also been checking out Hal Higdon, an extremely experienced runner, writer, and trainer, and someone who manages to put all of the advice/nutrition/planning out there in very easy to understand terms. It seems that support is the greatest asset someone can have in training for something like this, and I can't think of a better world than the blogosphere to broadcast my journey to. Plus, you guys don't actually have to DO any of the running. Really, it's a win-win.Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11565574703735581474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892272634572964564.post-8664961596960867672011-01-13T15:33:00.001-05:002011-01-13T15:35:15.248-05:00Words of WisdomToday, I celebrate 21 whole days of being engaged. I've made lots of decisions: locked down a venue, a date, my side of the bridal party, and we're closing in on a color theme. I have my wedding binder perfectly constructed and filled with lots of inspiration for the reception and outfits. There are eight tabs in there, each with their own purpose: vendor contracts, bridal style, groomsmen & bridesmaids, budget, food, etc.<br />
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I realize now that I should probably start a new tab in the binder. I'll call it "What to expect," and write down all the, er, "lovely" trinkets of advice for the brides that will come after me. Because every time someone notices a little sparkler on your finger, they are ready not only to congratulate you, but to give you their two cents. Here are some of my favorites to date:<br />
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1. "Oh, that ring...it's so...cute!"<br />
2. "September of THIS year? Wow--that's so fast!"<br />
3. "How old are you?"<br />
4. "His name is Carl, right? Ellen and Carl--that sounds lovely."<br />
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I'm sure the comments will continue to stack up as time moves along. Honestly, I can take them, but I've just been a little bit taken aback by how many people find nine months to be an insignificant amount of time to be engaged. I try to explain: "Well, Kyle and I want to get married in the fall, but we didn't want to wait two years, so we settled on this fall," only to be met with a furrowed brow and reluctant nod. Thanks for inspiring confidence, there. <br />
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I have a lot of opinions about marriage. During college, as a tool for survival, I essentially blocked any possible dream about getting married before 30, let alone even finding a stable boyfriend. Ideals of accomplishments, travel, independence--that's what I clung to. When it came to others, I'll be frank: I was judgmental. Getting married before 25? You must be straight outta your mind. Why not go out and learn more about yourself first? Experience what you won't be able to experience after you're married! I saw marriage as some sort of giant door--one that, once closed, locked out a slew of possibilities.<br />
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So imagine my surprise now. To find someone who is not only exceptionally normal, but shares in my goals--the same ones I thought impossible after that proverbial door closed. I think the cosmos wanted me to realize how unnecessary my judgment was by placing me precisely in the shoes of those I judged. And that's what I needed: to be forced to face my own judgments and realize that they are based in nothing but stubbornness; in a tool I needed at one time but is no longer necessary to keep in my toolbox. <br />
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It's not a clean and dry process. There are days when I wonder if the people who are so concerned about a September wedding date are right--maybe it is too soon. And when I read about other people's weddings in magazines, I can't help but notice that the majority of the couples are in their late 20s or early 30s. But what are we waiting for? Maybe it's a little bit of a leap of faith, but I think that's good for me. Being grounded is important, but I don't want to be so grounded that I get stuck.<br />
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Did I go all mushy on you there? Sorry.Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11565574703735581474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892272634572964564.post-51209652586127053682011-01-05T20:50:00.000-05:002011-01-05T20:50:11.268-05:00What A Difference 9 Months MakesNo, no babies. Just a lot of change. The hair is shorter, the weather is colder, and I suddenly find myself on the early morning horizon of two years post-college. Wow.<br />
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And while that certainly takes up much of my mental energy, what with all the "where do we go from heres" floating around, I now have something to direct all of my energy toward: a wedding.<br />
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That's right! I'm engaged. I always loved the term. "Engaged to be married." Sorry, fellas, I have another "engagement." Better luck next time! But honestly, it is a beautiful thing. Christmas Eve Day and photo booths will forever have an even more sacred place in my heart than they already did. And I now take the first few (somewhat reluctant) steps down the wedding planning path, opening pages of magazines and scouring hundreds of images to find the perfect everything. I remember Kyle once asking me how much there could possibly be to plan a wedding, and not being able to come up with a very robust retort. If he asked me that question now, I think I would scare him away. There is a ton! No wonder people stay engaged for over a year: they need that time to find the right flowers and invitations and chair covers and dozens of other minute details that will undoubtedly drive me crazy. But we have instead decided to brave the wedding planning madness in a mere 8 and a half months. Theknot.com already alerted me to the some 30 things I needed to check off my "to do" list that were already greatly overdue. Thanks! That'll settle the nerves.<br />
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Kyle reminded me tonight that a wedding isn't about a wedding; it's about being married. The day will come and it will go, but whether or not the flowers die or the reds don't match or I fall into the cake, the next morning we'll wake up and be married. And that's pretty exciting. That's what matters most.Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11565574703735581474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892272634572964564.post-72255513938773691832010-04-22T12:36:00.001-04:002010-04-22T12:38:59.880-04:00Low-Fat Cheese and Scraped KneesLow-fat cheese is so massively disappointing. Nothing scares you off from eating healthy like something that melts into a fine crust onto your tortilla chips and requires overnight soaking to get off of your plate. Last night, I came home in a hunger tizzy, having worked an 8-hour day at the lab plus 6 hours at my new part time job serving at a restaurant downtown. I piled some chips on a plate, sprinkled some low-fat cheese on the top, popped it in the microwave, and 45 seconds later, voila: tortilla chips trapped under a fine tent of cheese glue. Not what I had hoped for, as you can probably imagine. Considering it was 11:30 at night and I hadn't eaten in 7 hours, however, I could've cared less. But it seemed a fitting end to what had been at the very least a clumsy 36 hours.<br />
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I've never been what you might call a "pristine lady." My shirt is typically wrinkled to some degree, my hair is constantly in a state of rebellion against my straightener, and at any given time I have a number of bruises all over my limbs from various unintended meetings with corners (current bruise count: 5). At my serving job last night, this lack of grace seemed particularly noticeable. All of the other women who work there seem to have a level of poise and/or girlishness that I simply did not adopt along my path to womanhood. So last night, as I fumbled with the trays and tripped down the steps as I prepared to close the patio (which resulted in what is now bruise #5), I couldn't help but feel a bit like a black sheep. <br />
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There has been some drop in my level of self-assuredness in these 11 months since graduating. I never felt fearless in college by any means, but I did feel like the cocoon of support I had around me kept me from caring about what other people thought and allowed me to develop the overall idea of who I was. Ideas put into practice always waiver, however, and I now feel that this post-college chapter is the truest testament to turning ideas into action: not just knowing what it takes to fly, but actually flying. It's all up to me now, foibles and all, and it seems sometimes to be more difficult to accept my own idiosyncrasies as I'm flying than the flying itself.<br />
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So I do what I always do: try to brush it off. Remind myself that no one is perfect, and where one person has poise, they may lack something else. But it's been tough, I can't lie. I don't think it's necessarily something that goes away, but like anything else you have personal qualms with (nose, hips, arms, whatever), is something you grow to accept over time as simply a part of who you are. <br />
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Hopefully "who I am" doesn't involve spilling hot coffee and/or a Nutella banana crepe onto someone's lap....Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11565574703735581474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892272634572964564.post-42391423398253064022010-03-13T11:32:00.001-05:002010-03-14T12:32:53.288-04:00Life Lessons from a Real World NeophyteI've been living the "real world" life for four, going on five months now, and I'm happy to report I've come away with some wisdom (you proud?). As a means to cushion the transition, I was happy to find a job in the academic world, surrounded by college students on the one hand but logging 40 hours a week and applying for benefits and a retirement plan on the other. The best of both worlds, I suppose you'd say.<br />
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Well, recently, I've felt the crotchety old lady in me rising. She may be wiser, but man is she way more easily annoyed by everyone else. I'm trying to keep her under control, but even my body is physically manifesting her, with necessary earlier bedtimes and early onset Carpal Tunnel. (True story. Ergonomics are important!) <br />
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Having not known any of this in advance, I thought I'd do my real world-bound peers a favor and divulge some musings I've had, so that they could come into the workforce well armed and prepared to beat that crotchety old lady down...figuratively speaking, of course.<br />
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1. <b>The first couple of months after you start your job</b>, you'll probably be more exhausted than you've ever been, and yes, that includes the semester where you didn't sleep because you were writing your thesis on Freud and the Implications of his Philosophies in 21st Century Zambia. Working 9-5, 8-5, 9-7, whatever, is a totally different schedule than college folk are used to. Be prepared for a transition, and don't be too upset when the clock hits 11 PM and you are well on your way to dreamland. It's a good thing.<br />
2. <b>The fastest way to lose your money?</b> Spending it on eating out. Not having a meal plan can be a shock to some, so it's important to understand that while your job may come with health care, it does not come with a fixed number of meal points. Cook your own meals, take your own lunch to work with you. Yes, they make adult looking lunch boxes. Invest in one. You will literally save hundreds of dollars in a matter of months. <br />
3. <b>Piggybacking on #2:</b> Learn to cook. It's not hard, and it doesn't require many tools. Get a frying pan, a sauce pan, and some spatulas. Voila. You're halfway to being as good as Rachel Ray. <br />
4. <b>When you're looking for an apartment, inquire about the neighbors.</b> This is something I highly regret not doing, as above me I have an ongoing opera lasting from about 10 AM til 9 PM 24/7, brought to you by that one guy who apparently has NO practice space outside of his apartment, and below me I have some other guy who loves techno and <i>Armageddon </i>and really wants everyone to know about it. Asking about the neighbors is as important as asking about rent and utilities.<br />
5. <b>This one is primarily for the ladies:</b> Leggings are not pants. This may be the most crucial lesson you can learn. Honestly, I don't even know why it's allowed in college. What happened to sweatpants? Have leggings, Ugg boots and North Face fleeces become the new lazy girl uniform? Kill it, please. No one needs to be that well acquainted with your butt, and I don't care how thin you are.<br />
6. <b>Learn to love Happy Hours.</b> Just because you've entered the working world and fear becoming a trench coat-wearing, briefcase-toting robot doesn't mean you can't still have a good time, and without having to spend a ton of money. It may also behoove you to learn to enjoy drinks that a) don't come with a juice bottle chaser or b) aren't available in 30 racks for $10.<br />
7. <b>Consult your parents, mentors, whomever, about insurance stuff.</b> When you go to your first orientation and learn about every single insurance plan you can sign up for, your head will want to explode. It's a lot of terminology (terminology that you most likely will not understand, nor be told about) and a lot of information, so don't just blindly check boxes and sign by the X's. Talk to someone. And no, just because it's cheap does not mean it's the best.<br />
8. <b>Become very comfortable with the fact that you will most likely not be able to maintain the lifestyle you were living in college.</b> This means financially, socially, physically, etc. And I would also stress that it's not a bad thing; it's just a change. Humans are incredibly adaptable creatures. Being able to buy generic instead of name brand is small potatoes compared to what we've had to deal with evolutionarily. <br />
9. <b>Finding friends will not be an easy feat, unless you're moving to a city where most of your college friends are also moving.</b> Unlike college, opportunities aren't as readily thrown at you. You have to seek things out on your own, which may require a level of courage and risk that seem unfamiliar, and perhaps even silly. But making small changes can have a big impact: Join a gym and sign up for a class. Find adult education classes at the local community college. Befriend the people in the office next to yours. Becoming a hermit is an all too scary reality. Don't let it happen to you just because you don't want to put yourself out there.<br />
10. <b>Stay strong in your convictions.</b> It's easy as a new member of the work force to lose perspective, or get caught up in micromanaging, or be pissed that your boss doesn't let you do anything. Whatever it is, you may sometimes feel your optimism fading, or the idealism from college slipping through your fingers. These things are fantastically great allies to you. Don't let everyone else's negativity seep into you. <br />
11. <b>While you will mourn the fact that college is a beautiful, once in a lifetime event,</b> you will also (hopefully) realize that life outside of college has just as many opportunities to do awesome things. You might just have to look a little harder.Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11565574703735581474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892272634572964564.post-24316853367659550212010-02-11T08:23:00.000-05:002010-02-11T08:23:45.648-05:00Ya BurntHours without hot water: 12<br />
Cold showers taken: 1<br />
Aggressive feelings toward landlord/water heaters: Rising<br />
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Stay tuned.Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11565574703735581474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892272634572964564.post-12452595943549609872010-02-08T20:52:00.002-05:002010-02-08T20:58:12.413-05:00VeganschismFor the past month or so, I have been reading the book Eating Animals, by Jonathan Safran Foer. As you may have guessed, the book is exactly about eating animals and the implications of doing so. The implications that, for so many of us, typically go unnoticed.<br />
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I do not consider myself to be the righteous, holier-than-thou vegetarian who scoffs at those who enjoy chicken tenders or visits to the drive thru, but this book makes me consider what, exactly, my responsibility is as a “consumer” in the most basic sense of the word. As a part of my journey through this responsibility quest, I decided to try being vegan for a week, just to see what it would be like and whether or not I would go crazy not having any cheese or eggs around.<br />
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It didn't seem like that much of a challenge: I made the switch to soy milk back in high school, and over the years have grown increasingly intolerant to ice cream and some cheeses, so I figured the biggest issue I’d have would be egg withdrawal. But I felt secure in my decision. In fact, in the two days or so before I officially began, I found myself starting to phase things out because it seemed so simple. I had recipes picked out, snacks for lunch planned, and was ready for any food-related obstacles that might come my way. I thought I had my bases covered, but I had blindly forgotten one of the most critical aspects of food and eating: its social importance. <br />
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You can't one day become a vegan and assume that everyone is going to be on board. While my plan was just to try it out for seven days and see if I thought it was a sustainable lifestyle for me, I soon realized that even that required serious consideration in light of the people with whom I eat. Eating, as all of us know, is an incredibly social act. Eating alone is often considered unfortunate, and any event that we go to is certain to have a large table of food at the center. Without food, something is incomplete.<br />
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So here I was, skipping down the first leg of this journey, not realizing that there were already warning signs. Then, at dinner with my boyfriend, he asked a seemingly simple question: "Why do you want to do this?" (Funny how sometimes it’s those basic questions that we’ve forgotten to consider as we internally justify our decisions.) After a moment, I told him that it was simply a matter of giving it a try, and that until I could afford to know where my meat and dairy come from, I would rather not be buying and consuming it. Which is all well in good, he said, but then he gently reminded me that, hey, we eat together a lot, and, hey, he's not ready to adopt a vegan lifestyle. Oh, right. I don’t exist in a bubble. There are others to consider.<br />
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At first when I realized this, I became slightly resentful. I felt it was unfair that I should have to alter the decisions I wanted to make for reasons of ease or lack of readiness on the part of someone else. And then I started to think about his family, which already has to deal with juggling gluten-free, omnivorous, and vegetarian diets, and my own family, which is made up entirely of omnivores. While my family has always supported my diet decisions, I could imagine the look on my mother’s face as Christmas breakfasts and traditional family dinners would be forever memories to miss, not moments to look forward to. And as much as I wanted to be able to see the bright side of this decision and deny that anything would have to change, it wasn’t realistic. Things may not have to change for me—but this decision did not just involve me. Furthermore, I didn’t want to become a burden on those who welcomed me as guests. There’s nothing more unfortunate than the party guest who constantly inquires, “Um, what’s in this?” or, “Sorry, I can’t eat that. I’m vegan.” No matter how much you may want to power through it and pretend like it’s not a big deal, my ingrained Midwestern values have bred me not to be a bother. And, honestly, I just don’t want to be. <br />
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I made it through my week, and it went pretty well. Obviously, I ended up deciding that this was not a viable option for where I am in life. But that’s not to say that I came away with nothing from being vegan: more than anything, I think veganism serves as an important reminder to vegetarians that we need to focus on the “vegetable” part of our diets, not the easier-to-prepare, more readily available pasta, rice, and bread parts of our diet. From now on, I plan to eat vegan one week a month, just to continue reminding myself of this. Considering all the factors, that’s the best compromise I’ve been able to reach.Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11565574703735581474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892272634572964564.post-64730395002652272012010-01-30T09:47:00.004-05:002010-01-30T23:11:47.619-05:00On the Road Again. And Again, And AgainMiles driven this week: 616<br />
Hours spent driving this week: 11<br />
Times the radio played "Celebrate Good Times": 2<br />
Times the radio played "Lucky Star" by Madonna: 3<br />
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I would just like to say that any station playing "Celebrate Good Times" more than once in a week does not so much inspire celebration for the song as celebration for when the song ends.<br />
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Although I have only been in Michigan for a few months, I have come to the conclusion that Michiganders are by far and wide the worst drivers I've experienced. Nothing personal to those I know; most of my beef is with the strangers. The used Cadillac-driving, bluetooth wearing, blindly texting strangers. I've had my share of experience with drivers, too, so this conclusion was not reached based on lack of exposure. Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, New York, Boston, Toronto, Montreal, Washington DC---I've been around the block--driving around it, obviously--and you mitten dwellers take the cake. But it's not as though you're all afflicted with one symptom that universally binds you together. Rather, most of you seem to fall into one of the following categories:<br />
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<b>The Rebel Driver.</b> Oh, you rogue, you. When you get behind the wheel, you rev your engine and repeat the mantra "No mercy!" over and over again. As you merge onto I-94, you stealthily swerve past those fools driving the speed limit (or ten miles over). You call no lane your home, but rather bob in and out of them--because wherever you have to be, you have to be at in the next 30 seconds or the little girl gets it. I understand.<br />
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<b>The Anarchist Driver.</b> Like the Rebel Driver, you are most likely responsible for the chest pains your driver's education instructor now has to take blood pressure meds to control. But unlike the Rebel Driver, you are ever so slightly more calculated in your maneuvers, although these maneuvers fly directly in the face of what the conformists call "the rules." For you, the far right lane is only for passing. Those conventionalists in the passing lane aren't going your speed, and nothing is worse than having to push on your brake to disengage your cruise control. I understand.<br />
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<b>The Geriatric Driver, or, alternatively, Captain Obliviou</b><b>s.</b> Where the Rebel and the Anarchist can't wait to push their accelerators into the ground, you not only tend to ride the brakes (just to be on the safe side), but you neither can identify where nor how to use your cruise control. If you did use it, you might mistake it for auto pilot. This name is slightly misleading, however, as this style of driving does not strike only the elderly. In my opinion, it's more a lack of awareness that leads to your driving style. Anywhere but the road in front of you is where your gaze wanders: the field to your left, the roadkill to your right, the floor of the passenger's seat, your fingernails. As a result, your speedometer typically dips to a speed at which the semis start passing you, which makes the Rebel Driver's job of weaving in and out of lanes a bit more difficult. You should not try to cultivate a romantic relationship with the Rebel Driver.<br />
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<b>Commander Oblivious. </b>Unlike the Captains, you Commanders are still relatively new to the road, and honing your abilities to pay attention to anything except driving. Your medium of choice? The cell phone. If you're not texting, you might as well be driving. Oh, wait. <i>That's what you're supposed to be doing. </i>Get this thought and any other cognitive dissonance out of your mind soon, otherwise you may never reach the rank of Captain.<br />
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Someday people will be reminded that driving is, actually, an active task that we share with thousands of others, and thus, we have a responsibility when we get behind the wheel. But there's no fun in that, so I guess for now, I'll just have to work on my own style of driving, <b>The Intolerant Driver.</b><br />
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</b>Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11565574703735581474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892272634572964564.post-81566707591781967582010-01-26T07:58:00.009-05:002010-01-26T11:21:31.980-05:00HiatusAlready, three months have passed. And I have left home, found an apartment (after many nights of confusion and short math equations figuring out just how much I ought to spend on rent), am aunt to a pet Havanese, started my job, and fallen in love with a fantastic fellow. Not bad, for a 90-day hiatus.<br />
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Clearly, I transitioned quickly, and I do not have any regrets in that department. In fact, as past precedent would show, a transition that drags its feet is agonizing for me. But to be honest, I have never dived into a transition so quickly, never truly seen how fast I could go from 0 to 60. Now I know, and as a consequence, my foresight has been blurred. Not the foresight I should have had before I jumped off the springboard, but rather, the tool of foresight itself. I'm finding it harder and harder to see anything except what's right in front of me. Which, you know, some would say is a good thing--"Live in the moment"--but this is living in the moment at its most rigid. Living in the moment because trying to live outside of it would mean being unable to fulfill my one true purpose for coming here: my job.<br />
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Time to stop speaking in vague terms. My job is insanity. Am I thankful to have it? Yes. Do I enjoy the work I do? Absolutely. But I didn't quite know just how much I'd be molding the lab, what happens in the lab, and how the entire study I'm working on is organized. Honestly, though, I can handle the work. It's not my first time on this ride, and I've certainly been busy like this in the past (albeit not quite as consistently). What seems to be more problematic is how it's rocking my life outside of work, the life that should be spent decompressing and relaxing. Instead, work seeps into that life, constantly triggering small alarm bells in my head. *Don't forget!* *Email him soon!* *What's the status on...* Etc., etc., etc.<br />
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In college, this seemed to be less of a problem, because the busyness required of classes and extracurriculars was part and parcel of your life. There was no "work life" and "personal life" dichotomy. Everyone was on the same boat, studying for exams, reading articles, writing papers, and finding time to have some fun, and as such, dividing a strict line between these two parts of life seemed unnecessary. They simply meshed together. Now, things feel different. For some reason, things feel as though they need to be more compartmentalized than that.<br />
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I thought I was handling it okay until it hit the one place I most certainly did not want it to hit: my relationship. He said it to me flat out last night, "You're stressed all the time about the lab." He wasn't accusing or judgmental or disappointed, he was just stating the obvious (and also calling out my obvious self-denial about it). Nonetheless, I was disappointed in myself. I grew up in a household with a mother who was constantly working--working in the literal sense, as her job has always been a 60-70 hour a week commitment--but also working to maintain solid relationships with her children and husband. I want to work, and I want to work hard. But I want my job to remain within the four walls of my office. I want to come home and not compulsively run a mental list of what's left to do that I couldn't do today.<br />
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And so, I find myself needing to adopt a new outlook. An outlook to match my new, post-college life. The winner? A combination of wisdom passed onto me by my father and none other than the iconic Scarlett O'Hara. "I can't worry about that now," she says. "I'll worry about that tomorrow." The life I cultivate outside of work is just as important as the work ethic I'm cultivating with my first job. That we feel we can shelve our personal lives, deem them disposable before anything else, is another symptom of our culture's obsession with efficiency and hard work. One should not look at a well-lived life outside of the office and think it inherently means their work life is lagging. There must be a balance. I have to believe there is a balance. It's just a matter of keeping myself in check.<br />
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To do that? I've turned the email notification off on my phone. Last night, I shut the Internet down on my laptop and baked bread and cooked soup. (All while watching "Julie and Julia," how perfect is that?) I'm now recognizing that I need to stop bullying myself about exercise or downtime and just make it happen. This morning I woke up and did yoga for the first time in weeks. My spine was killing me, but it still felt fantastic. These things may feel small, but they're all means toward one end: taking a mental hiatus from work. Being able to shut my brain off and just be. The work that's left to do will get done. I won't let anything other than that happen, but I need to recognize that running at sprint speed is unsustainable. Slow and steady, right?Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11565574703735581474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892272634572964564.post-88865281755137847402009-10-01T01:37:00.004-04:002010-01-26T10:23:28.423-05:00One Begets the OtherGood morning, October. I am sitting at home--that is to say, my parents' house--living out the final days of this transition period. Get your trumpets out and brace for the fanfare, everybody, because I officially have a job. A big girl job. Salaried, with benefits. And you know what? The release I so thought I would feel from that moment, that glorious e-moment that was like Christmas for the unemployed, didn't last nearly as long as I thought. What I quickly realized after being offered the job was that one decision begets dozens of others. Where to live? What neighborhoods are good? Can I find an apartment that will finally allow me to fulfill my irrational desire to get a pet? Should I deal with a commute? This is all a process, a one step at a time kind of thing, and I don't do well with that. I like to step evenly, in rhythm, and this process is a bit more interpretive than I would prefer.<br />
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In the meantime, there has been yet another victim of this "time in my life:" my relationship. What I thought would be a clean break ended up only bending, and now I have no idea what to do. He has faith that relationships can smoothly transition from romantic to platonic, without a break in communication, without any time in our separate corners. I am less optimistic, as my last relationship was really just a series of trying to do exactly that and failing miserably. And of course my stupid rom com-poisoned heart so wants to believe in faith and fate and grand gestures. After all, is there any better time than when you're young to do crazy things? To wear trench coats and hold boom boxes over your head or drive from Boston to Stanford in some POS car your friends got you for your birthday?<br />
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Life is not a movie. Life is not a movie. Life is not a movie.<br />
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I'll find an apartment. I'll get a cat. I'll move on and I'll enjoy my pay stubs. I can savor my escapes into rose petal-filled fantasy, but what it comes down to is that all you can do is just keep on keepin' on. Do what you can with what you can control, and let the rest fall as it may. Anything else is just a wrestling match you're bound to lose.Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11565574703735581474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892272634572964564.post-34291832702280480902009-09-10T13:44:00.004-04:002010-01-26T10:16:43.369-05:00Salaried with benefits, pleaseKnock on wood--and seriously, do it if there's some around--the tides are turning. Of course job hunting is a clusterfuck in every stage: scramble to apply to jobs, scramble to interview for them. I have been applying to jobs seriously since April, with a sporadic few sprinkled throughout the winter before, and only in the past three weeks have I gotten interviews. And as soon as I got one, it was suddenly as though some impenetrable job floodgate had been kicked down. Relieved that I would finally be headed home in a matter of days, I am now extending my east coast stay another five days for an in-person interview in DC, which is six hours from where I currently am. As a friend put it, "Your life is a logistical nightmare." Tell me about it. All of my clothes are in boxes en route to my parents' house, my car is stuffed to the brim with things from my storage unit, and the only pair of shoes I have are some flip flops. Whoops.<br />
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I know I shouldn't complain. Having interviews is absolutely incredible. I just have to sit back and let the humor of it all kind of marinate in my head, you know? Naturally it would be too simple for interviews to happen while I was just starting my summer job, or even through August. Only as my summer employment was ending did all of these interviews come to light. Timing is nothing if not humorous. And that may be all it is, because otherwise you're gonna look at it and see it as inconvenient, unforgiving, and sometimes unbelievable. My coping mechanism is definitely humor. If I can hold onto it for just a few days longer, it may pay off big time.Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11565574703735581474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892272634572964564.post-81459827334003979982009-09-04T21:58:00.001-04:002009-09-04T22:19:11.284-04:00Solo Movie EndeavorsHere are the best things about going to a movie alone:<br />1. You never have to worry about finding a seat.<br />2. You can eat all of the popcorn/candy before the previews have even ended.<br />3. You can buy popcorn/candy and not secretly wonder if the other person is judging your choice of upping the size for 50 cents more.<br />4. You don't have to deal with your movie partner's perhaps annoying movie habits.<br />5. You can go to movies you'd never want to admit you paid money to go to.<br /><br />Here are the worst things about going to a movie alone:<br />1. Everyone else is with somebody.<br />2. If you have to go to the bathroom (and I inevitably do, as fountain Diet Coke is my Kryptonite), there's no one to tell you what happened while you were gone.<br /> 2a. If you have to go to the bathroom, there is no one to watch your things. Take your chances and leave the bag there, or look suspiciously like it's that time of the month.<br />3. There's nobody to talk to about the movie when it's over.<br />4. If you do, in fact, polish off your popcorn/candy, you can't pull the "but I was sharing it with someone else" justification.<br />5. When you stamp a "date" title on it, you're ensured that at least part of the night will be paid for.<br /><br />Overall, I think that going to the movies by yourself is as delightful as Sarah Jessica Parker makes it look in "Sex and the City." You don't have to cater to anybody else's needs, you can buy and see whatever you want to, and you can stay all the way through the credits if you want, or, if you're like me, haul ass as soon as the scene fades to black. Plus, it has a level of anonymity thanks to the darkness that is not provided by, say, dining alone.<br /><br />It's interesting how everyone has their different movie traditions: some love to chat about the movie during the movie (not me), some laugh loudly and unabashedly while others muffle their chuckles as perhaps a courtesy or insecurity, some are popcorn fiends, others sour patch kids lovers, some live for the previews (definitely me), others show up 15 minutes late to a movie just to skip them. Sometimes incompatible movie traditions can totally ruin the experience for both parties, whether romantically involved or simply friends.<br /><br />As for me, I think going to the movies alone may become a new tradition in and of itself.Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11565574703735581474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892272634572964564.post-23950698540965252012009-08-31T20:41:00.001-04:002009-08-31T20:53:24.326-04:00Fear of SleepDays Until Employment Ends: 2<br />Jobs Applied to Today: 4<br />Hours of Sleep: 4<br /><br />I cannot sleep in this house. I'm still transitioning to the new sounds and nuances only old houses contain. Last night I fell asleep at 3; the night before, at 5. Somehow I managed to peel myself out of bed faarrrr too early this morning, have a post-op check up with the dentist (everything's healing nicely, yee haw), and actually get some work done--after a big cup of coffee, of course.<br /><br />But by one o'clock there was little left to do. I came back to the house and watched old David Attenborough specials on the leopard, crocodile, eagle, and humpback whale. This is the severity of my situation.<br /><br />The more I come to terms with my summer job ending, the more I'm realizing that I need to go home. I can't wander around for much longer. I'm sick of packing up my whole life every couple of weeks and hauling it in my understated tan Corolla to the next squatting venue. One of the jobs I applied to today is actually at a university back home, and you know, after mailing my resume in (snail mail style--the Midwest is inching toward progressive, but some things they'll never let go of), I found myself bizarrely excited by the idea. Going back home but living in my own apartment, starting my own life there, sounds greatly appealing to me right now. Comfortable in many ways, but new in others.<br /><br />I have made a pact with myself that I will fall asleep at a normal time tonight. Keep your fingers crossed....Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11565574703735581474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892272634572964564.post-25008131088830532502009-08-27T23:05:00.000-04:002009-08-27T23:26:34.666-04:00Playing HouseMovies/TV Shows Watched Since Wisdom Teeth Removal:<br />1. The Simpsons Season 3 (Disc 1 only)<br />2. The Simpsons Season 4<br />3. The Simpsons Season 6<br />4. Man vs. Food Season 1<br />5. Mrs. Doubtfire<br />6. This American Life<br />7. MaxedOut<br />8. House Bunny (forgive me)<br />9. Who Framed Roger Rabbit<br /><br />Thank you, Netflix Instant.<br /><br />Earlier tonight, at the house I'm currently "sitting," I spent 20 minutes making the bed. Simply because I could, because I got lost in the fantasy of having my own place to call home, where I could have charming little knick knacks that ooze frivolity with the loopy cursive saying things like "Linen Spray" and "Creme pour le Corps." Living in an extremely well-decorated house that reflects what you one day can only hope your home will look like is not helpful when you're reeling from unemployment.<br /><br />I also ventured back to campus today, the first day out since my immature wisdom teeth extraction on Monday. I think the Vicodin must have embedded some false sense of readiness in my horiztonal, Man vs. Food-watching body, because as soon as I got to work I felt incredibly awful. What I did love, however, was watching all the freshmen--still slightly shocked from the massive amount of sensory overload, but trying their damndest not to let on. Yes, it's orientation week, and it feels so weird to be there, watching as though I'm peering into a snow globe. It's bizarre how quickly a place that was your home loses that title, even when you continue to be surrounded by it after you graduate. But I must admit, all awkward friendship making and map toting aside, I was a little jealous of this class of 2013 (yikes). Welcome to four years of a reality defined by a cushy balance of structure and independence, where everything new seems like it will never get old and graduation is something you just got done with, not something to be looking out for. God, my timing is impeccable.Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11565574703735581474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892272634572964564.post-36834096666030267002009-08-23T21:46:00.000-04:002009-08-23T22:12:28.812-04:00Losing My WisdomTomorrow I will finally be inducted into the exclusive club of being sans wisdom teeth. To alleviate the potential devastation about the loss, the dentist assured me that the two buds growing on my lower jaw are surprisingly "immature for my age," and should therefore not lead to much trouble. Couldn't help but feel a little bit gypped from that statement. My immature wisdom teeth. Of course they are.<br /><br />But it's true, in the two months since I even learned I had wisdom teeth, that I feel as though I've been on an intellectual backslide. I am an alumna now, 4 years of countless papers and tuition bills behind me, but now I can't seem to shake the feeling that I've simply screeched to a halt after what only recently seemed like an endless jaunt down a lovely, albeit bumpy, back road. Then again, this feeling could just be another result of my tendency to over think. Living this semi-nomadic lifestyle leads one to question the purpose of transition periods to be anything but completely annoying. I didn't really think that I would ever need to use the word "antsy" after I hit double digits, but that is the only word that really touches on what the past two months have been. And yes, I am fully aware that I should be taking advantage of this time and embracing the unknown, but to be frank, fuck that. The people telling me that are the ones who romanticized the confusion to be an embodiment of the gradual fading of youth. In retrospect, it's a beautiful thing, I'm sure. Living it sucks.<br /><br />But for the next two days at least, all I need to focus on is taking my pain meds and enjoying endless pudding cups. If nothing else, this summer will have been good for getting pesky, immature teeth out of the way.Ellenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11565574703735581474noreply@blogger.com0