#Adulting

As I walk to work on a cold day in our nation’s capital I am reminded of how I made almost the same walk four years ago when I was a senior in college. I got up at 6:30 am, caught a train for an almost 2 hours ride, and walked to my internship at the DSCC on Capital Hill. As I look back on those memories made during the 3 days a week for 3 months that I made that trek I remember thinking “this must be what it is like being an adult”. And then that May I moved out of my dorm, never to return to campus and finally received my degree the following August and my life outside of academia started.

However, here I am. Four years, 3 different jobs, 2 internships, and 1 address change later and suddenly I am actually what someone would call an adult. An honest to god adult.

Yet, I have been thinking about what exactly makes someone an adult or more specifically what makes me an adult. Was it when I moved out of a house with 5 people and into an apartment with 3 people? Was it when I received my first full time job and was working the 40 hours a week that I had seen my parents do for years and years? Was it that August when I was technically no longer a “college student”? Was it when I could make the decision to not drive after drinking after turning 21? Or was it when I turned 18 nearly 8 years ago and could buy cigarettes and be tried as an adult in a court of law?

I am definitely more mature than that 18 year old. I am definitely smarter than that 21 year old. I am definitely not as bound by the structure of college as that 22 year old. I definitely have more work savvy than that 23 year old. I am definitely most like that 24 year old who moved into her first apartment but even she seems foreign to  me now.

So many things tell us when exactly we are adults, as if there is a switch that is flipped and poof you’re an adult. The world is telling me that I am a single, working professional no longer living with my family and therefore an adult. But the more the world tells me that,  the more I am not sure it’s the truth.

Maybe being an adult was a state of mind. However, if that is that case than why is a teenager who thinks they know everything not an adult. I believed so passionately when I was 14/15 that I was mature. A bonafide adult. My parents were just two old people who overreacted too much. I believed it, so I was an adult.

Maybe its when you turn 18. From being able to sign contracts, vote, buy cigarettes, and be tried as an “adult” in criminal cases, the law sees an 18 year old as an adult. They should know right from wrong and the consequences of their actions. In hindsight, I can tell you that there is no way I knew what the heck I was doing when I went to college. Those first three months I struggled, not just with the work but being away from home for the first time. Having to remember to feed myself, share my space with someone else, remember deadlines all on my own because professors were much less hands on as compared to high school. But I was 18, so I was an adult.

Maybe being an adult is a scientific thing. I have heard that your brain, specifically the part of your brain that deals with rationalization and realizing consequences, does not fully develop until you are in your mid-20s. I am definitely in my mid-20s, so I am an adult.

One of my best friends loves the Walt Disney quote “Growing old is mandatory, but growing up is not.” I like the quote too because it instills the idea of childish which can be a relief from the pressures of society described “adult responsibilities”.  Paying important bills related to healthcare, living arrangements, transportation, and food are the milestones society looks at when becoming an “adult” but if those are benchmarks then was I not an adult at 18 because the police officer that would have stopped me if I had shoplifted would definitely have said I was.

I guess what I am trying to say is that in certain aspects of my life I feel like an adult but in others I do not and therefore am confused about if I am or am not an adult. I do know one thing for sure…I will always have time for 90s music dance parties and coloring in my curs words coloring book in my blanket fort.

Guest Writer: Life Lessons From Star Trek TNG

I’ve recently been re-watching Star Trek: The Next Generation and am continuously impressed by the themes and topics the TV show covers.  In “The Outcast” (season 5), the Enterprise assists a species that no longer has gender, but now and then, someone is born that associates more with female or male. These people are bullied and abused until the authorities take them away to undergo psycho-therapy to “fix” them. This episode aired in March of 1992. The sentiments expressed are very much a reflection upon those who would oppress the gender identity of individuals today, 23 years later. Of course, I’m talking about the LGBT community. When will the archaic thoughts and treatment of people who are different stop resulting from fear? When will it become the norm and commonplace to treat everyone from a place of understanding, kindness, and compassion?

In the episode, Soren, a member of this genderless race identifies as female, falls in love with Riker, but is then discovered by the authorities and put on trial for perversion. She makes an impassioned plea for those with gender identities:

“I am female. I was born that way. I have had those feelings, those longings all of my life. It is not unnatural. I am not sick because I feel this way. I do not need to be helped, I do not need to be cured. What I need, and what all of those who are like me need, is your understanding, and your compassion. We have not injured you in any way; and yet, we are scorned and attacked all because we are different. What we do is no different from what you do. We talk and laugh. We complain about work and we wonder about growing old. We talk about our families and we worry about the future, and we cry with each other when things seem hopeless. All of the loving things that you do with each other, that is what we do. And for that we are called ‘misfits’ and ‘deviants’ and ‘criminals’. What right do you have to punish us? What right do you have to change us? What makes you think you can dictate how people love each other?”

The response of the tribunal:

“After [this] diatribe you must think we are a cruel and oppressive people. Nothing could be further from the truth…We’re concerned about our citizens and we take our obligations seriously. Soren is sick and sick people want to get well. We have a very high success rate in treating deviants like this and without exception they become happier people after their treatment, and grateful that we care enough to cure them. You see, on this world, everyone wants to be normal.”

Sound familiar? I look forward to the day when it doesn’t.

Lara is one of Erica’s oldest friends who constantly seeks to balance the mind, heart, and spirit to not only make herself a better person, but to positively impact the lives of those around her. She and Erica hope that one day, everyone will be treated with compassion and kindness based on the quality of their character.

My Inner Mean Girl

A piece of advice that I heard this weekend has stuck with me. I do not remember the exact wording but it essentially said that in your mind you should talk to yourself as if you were talking to a friend. At first I thought, I am never mean to myself. Not ten minutes later I was getting dressed and when I caught myself in the mirror I remember chiding myself for my weight, calling myself fat. That was when I realized it. I was being mean to myself without even realizing it. As much as I wanted to believe that I never mean to myself I was, and often. I would never call a stranger much less a friend fat so why was it OK that I was telling myself it? I was in a dilemma after that.

I know that I am not a size 6 and I categorize myself as a plus size woman. So when do I cross the line from recognition of my shape to degrading it? I also find myself always comparing myself to other women without even thinking twice about it. I’ll see a handsome man on the train and think “he’s cute.” Then, as if fate has a nasty sense of humor, a beautiful blonde woman with perfect white skin will get on the train. I immediately think, “Oh well I’m not a blond, blue-eyed, Caucasian women . I could not possible compete with her.” In my mind the race is over and has already been won by the skinny perfect women next to me so I why even try. My inner mean girl is bullying me into giving up. Without knowing anything about either of them personally, my inner mean girl convinces me that they would make a more aesthetically appealing couple so I should not even try. I mean who could want an overweight black girl with a face full of scars from puberty and hair that is not straight and shiny and blond and on and on and…you get my point.

After hearing this quote all I could think about these instance was, that is so mean. I would NEVER say something like that to a friend. I would never compare her to someone I did not know. As far as I am concerned any man would be lucky to date and fall in love with one of my friends. Why should I not want the same for myself?

While my inner mean girl is not as effectual as she use to be she still is, well, quite mean. Not letting her dictated my behavior and put me down is going to be a lifelong struggle but I am going to work to advocate for myself against one of the harshest critic of all. I am one of my best friends and I am going to actively start treating myself as such.

My Voice is Written

I have learned a lot during my more-than-20-years on this Earth. I’ve learned that my parents have always been smarter than I am, even though my teenage self would strongly disagree, college is not for the faint of heart, coffee is good but chi tea is better, and I watch entirely too much TV. However, one thing that I have not yet learned is how to express my emotions. Everyone expresses themselves differently. Some people paint, some sing, some punch walls and/or unfortunately people. So what I guess I am trying to say is that there are constructive and destructive ways to recognize and express oneself. A line I am constantly walking.

I have never been one to volunteer my feelings to anyone. In fact, it takes a great effort for me to share something personal with family or close friends, much less a stranger. I know people who have no problem in sharing their feelings. I envy them. I’ve tried the therapist route. I’ve done the sitting on the couch, the talking about my feelings, the techniques, the exercises. Some of them work for me and some do not. While I understand the confidentiality of therapy, there is something discomforting about talking with a stranger, someone I don’t see every day, someone with whom I don’t have a personal relationship.

Learning to recognize patterns of behavior and emotions within myself has gotten easier, but it’s still something that I work at constantly. I am not going to all of a sudden start spewing my feelings left and right. I do not believe I will ever be that kind of person. I can, however, be that kind of person who learns to express herself in ways that show recognition and validation of feelings. Writing has become an outlet for me. It is an avenue for me to share things I cannot say out loud. There are times when I think this may be the coward’s way around real talking, but one thing I have learned is that keeping it in, especially the destructive feelings, will only result in more harm than good.

If you have read my blog in the past year, you have noticed that I have occasionally invited people to write guest entries. I enjoy reading about what others care about; their thoughts and feelings. Everyone always asks what they should write about and I always tell them: whatever you want. The overall theme of this blog when I started it was to share things about myself that I found difficult to talk about. The blog was an outlet and that’s what I also want for my guest writers. This type of writing should be fun. It should not feel like a chore. Through writing I have been able to explore such topics as my race, adopted, friendship, college, who I am professionally, commuting on the metro, and love.

Above I commented above, sometimes I have to battle the idea that writing is the coward’s way out of having a real conversation. While I do use writing to explore the above topics and others, I would hate for someone I love to see a conversation on my blog that should be done in person. Picking and choosing what I write about is also something with which I struggle with. What is important enough that my audience will learn something and what is too important that it would seem insensitive to put on the internet? A fine line indeed.

Writing does not have to be the research papers of college or the cover letters of job applications. Writing can be a meaningful fun outlet for those thoughts and feelings that we deal with every day. Writing is my outlet.

Guest Writer: Listen Up Kids!

I have been meaning to start an “Ask Riss” column for my blog but never got around to it. Fortunately, Erica invited me to write as a guest and I couldn’t be more thrilled! Even though I’m killer with advice, nobody has asked me any questions – so I’m just going to rant about things I wish I had known and write a letter to my younger self. If you are in college, or struggling in general, please advise.

Ahem…here I go…

Letter to Myself 

Dear Marissa,

Please don’t worry.

• You will never, ever again in your life, use algebra, calculus, geometry, or statistics.

Guys, if you’re anything like me, you have shed many tears while struggling over your math homework. Much to my disappointment, I needed to complete four semesters worth of statistics and even as a psychology major, I have never once solved for x in real life.  I beat myself up for two solid semesters with self-talk about how I would never be successful because I could not figure out from charts of numbers if this question was legit; “Humans driving in their cars see yellow firetrucks a millisecond before they see red firetrucks in a rearview mirror. Please detail whether or not this is statistically significant. Show your work.” Those last three words were enough to send me into fits of anxiety and shock. Most of my work in high school consisted of doodling a giant walrus mooning a dolphin across the page and googling the answers (yellow is NOT statistically significant). Ironically enough, I had too much common sense to waste my time learning how to use theorems and proofs. Clearly, if you have a brain and have seen a red firetruck ever in your life, you know this question is a crock pulled out of your professor’s butt.  The reason math is such a boring and horrible subject is because it blows. You could give me fifty-five years to do a page of math homework and I wouldn’t do it until the night before. Honestly, sometimes I STILL think about how dope it is that I don’t have any homework. USE A CALCULATOR. If this still doesn’t sooth your mind, Burger King employees will never be required to cut sandwiches in the shape of a trapezoid.  Instead of beating yourself up about math, you should be focusing on the important questions in life like if a vegan is also a mathematician, which do they talk about first?

• Boys are horrible.  

I was so incredibly confused watching all of my friends “hook up” with random people (both men and women), start dating seemingly out of the blue, and even weirder, get married. The 2.5 babies are probably not far behind. I was depressed for so long and couldn’t pin down what was wrong with me. Sure, I carried extra weight around my hips, sang off-key in the shower, and occasionally put on outfits that would make Lady Gaga cringe but there are worse things. For instance, boys. The thing you need to remember is this: when someone posts Facebook pictures of flowers, sweet cards, chocolate or jewelry that their significant other bought for them, pity the hell out of them. I hate to be that person who calls others out on social media, but that’s not even remotely love. Love is not a thing NOR an act; it is something you feel. Don’t get me wrong, I used to cry out of loneliness when my friends had a seemingly beautiful relationship that I couldn’t attain. Until it actually started happening to me. Your significant other is boosting their own self-esteem by getting you nice things, because they are COUNTING on you sharing with the world what a wonderful and considerate person they are. It’s an act, and I was a victim of believing it was the real deal for a long time. Men, women, and relationships do not appear on social media. Which is why when my summer fling Pierre sent me too many Candy Crush requests, I legitimately stopped liking him. Here is how you tell if your significant other is there to stay: pee on them. People in general, whether you are attracted to men or women, are like snowflakes. If you piss on them, they will go away. If they don’t, definitely consider keeping them around. However, heed my warning. People are so manipulative and in order to get someone to like them, they will stop at nothing to shine themselves in a certain light. I have personally witnessed too many “Come to Jesus” moments when someone realizes they are being used. So, guard your hearts. That is so important. You don’t need to be married until your brain is fully developed, which is around 35. Those who get married in their earlier years are among the 50% divorce rate…so yes, I’m adding to you to my personal statistics chart. (See bullet one and shake your head with awe). People change but boys will always be horrible.

• Love yourself.

Look at yourself in the mirror. What do you like? If you’re like me, your eyes will instantly cast downwards at your beer-belly-donut-accepting stomach, cellulite, razor scars, and more. I have a scar on my right breast from skin removal. I have a mole that could block out the sun on my back. I get nervous when I have to tell doctors what I actually eat. But that’s beside the point. My instant “go to” response when someone asks me what I like most about myself is mumbling some bullshit answer about my shoulders. I never think about my shoulders otherwise. Ask me now, my answer would be different – I would say my eyes. Not because they are exceptionally beautiful (because they are actually gray) but because they have seen more than most will ever get to see in a lifetime. You have one body, and it is yours to treasure. This is very hard to explain, and trust me; I don’t always feel this confident. Every line, every scar, and every roll is a story of your life. There is only one version. I did a brief interview a while ago, and contrary to popular belief, nobody gives a shit about your looks because they are all too focused on themselves. I couldn’t tell you what the most delicate and chic fashion trends are because I don’t stare at magazines long enough to find out. Let me explain another way. Nobody sees you eating boogers in your car because they are all too busy texting and driving. If you read this far into this long and rambly post, I would like you to comment about something you truly like about yourself, and why. I will respond with what I like about you.

• Money is unimportant

Money has 5 letters. If you double that, you get 10.  If you divide that by 2, you get 5. If you do some more math, you get 666. Coincidence? I think not!! Every few months I do a cash giveaway. I know that sounds dumb, but it’s really amazing. Here’s how you do it – pull $20 out of your wallet and give it to a stranger in a store. Reactions are priceless. You will never see them again and it can really turn a horrible day into a great one for someone else. I am usually a huge spender on holidays and birthdays but believe me when I say that I’m far from a millionaire. In fact, this past year will be the 5th time I’ve gone flat-line bankrupt. But chances are, your friendship is incomparable to money, and I simply don’t care about losing cash. Being entirely broke gave me some of my best memories, and I learned the most from having nothing. Living paycheck to paycheck is hilarious. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

• Do stupid shit 

Should you survive, yours life could be the greatest story ever told. Your best memories are formed by that spring break tattoo, riding backwards on a horse, throwing coke and Mentos into a school parking lot after hours, skydiving with re-used rubber bands, Walmart runs at 3 am for cheesecake, and being so drunk you vomit onto the hairy face of your suitemate’s boyfriend and laugh. I have never done any of these things, but I can promise you that you will not regret it. I have never expressed this before, but the most illegal thing I have ever done had I gotten caught would be kidnapping with intent to harm. And guess what…it was a fucking blast. Yes the cops showed up but that’s another story/lesson. Looking back on your past and having nothing but dreary memories never cut it for anyone. Blow off studying. Go to the party, smoke weird things, and drink your heart out. Whatever you don’t remember will be more than what you learned in class a year later. Be present in the moment. Send letters. Human contact has gone from face-to-face, to phone call, to email, to text, to :/. Be unique-and don’t apologize.

• Most of all, be kind to everyone you meet.

Love,

Marissa

 

Editor’s Note – Marissa was one of the first friends I made in college and I honestly think she is one of the funniest people I know. As we don’t get to see each other as often now, I regularly have to stalk her over social media. Sometimes she gives me pointers on how to perfect my skills.

Flattered or Insulted?

So I experienced a first this week…my first booty call. I mean wow!! I of course shared this with several girlfriends and the responses were varied. Of course they all said I shouldn’t go, not that I was even entertaining that option, but something else was varied between them. Should I be flattered or insulted? I first thought, “Oh gross. Ain’t never gonna happen dude!” But the more I talked with my girlfriends I started thinking, “Man I feel pretty.” Are these ideas mutually exclusive? I mean the general consensus about cat calling is that it objectifies women but does that mean you can’t feel flattered that someone noticed the effort you put to get dressed this morning? I mean, if I could I would wear sweats and t-shirts all day but since I have a job I get up an entire HOUR earlier than necessary so that I can pick an outfit and do my makeup. While I would rather that be appreciated with a, “You look very nice today,” as opposed to a “Lookin’ hot mama.” Does the delivery take away from the fact that I am looking good?

Pondering that makes me wonder about this booty call thing. *BLANK* started off by telling me he was alone, he needed help with a device that a kindergartener could figure out, and he had booze. OK lets stop right there…really dude? If you wanted to get into my pants please put a little more effort into it. He must have thought that I was born yesterday. Since I had never happened to me, as discussed above, I was torn on how to feel. The feelings of disgust and grossness first settled in but they were followed by, “Damn Erica…” Are these feelings wrong? Right? Neither?

So one of my friends Significant other, who we will call BLANK 2 wanted to punch BLANK in the face for me. While I definitely appreciated the sentiment and call to action I was unsure about how to react. However I then thought it might help me to sort out my feelings about the whole affair. Clarify how I should be feeling about this. After thinking about it I decided that BLANK 2 had the right reaction. I am not a plaything. I am a human being and as Aretha Franklin sang “RESPECT” is the name of the game.

I would love to hear about how other felt when something similar happened to them.

Guest Writer: Who Said I Was An Adult?! I Want Names!

It seems as though everyone and their mother (and grandmother and grandfather and second and third cousins) is writing articles on what it means to be a twenty-something.  As though the decade where you hit many major life rites of passage can be described in a twenty-something list of .gifs, vines and memes.  I have chuckled at and shared many of these articles.  I watch old episodes of Friends and think “I’m just like these people,” searching for the funniest BuzzFeed I can find comparing myself to Chandler (As of course I am a Chandler).  I am practically screaming at the top of my internet lungs that I was born in the 1990s and remember all of these pre-internet things.  While this is all superficial and fun games I can’t help but wonder has the internet age of sharing created the more malicious implication of these posts—the urge to be an “adult?”

Every single time (EVERY. SINGLE. TIME) I get together for drinks/workouts/dinner with a friend the topic of marriage and babies comes up.  The dialogue usually involves something along the lines of “Did you see so-and-so procreate/got married?”  It then quickly turns into either a “they are the last people on earth who should be trusted with another human life,” or a “what-the-actual-explicative is wrong with me?”  It’s as though the constant updates from people who in the past I wouldn’t have given a second thought after graduation has created a form of self-doubt that psychologists will study in the future and mark as the moment humanity collectively lost its mind.  I spend an inordinate amount of time reminding myself that I shouldn’t be jealous that Kathy bought a house, I don’t even know where I want to live yet! (Related: I’m 24 years old—I shouldn’t be buying a house!)

When did everyone come to the decision that they wanted to grow up so fast?  I relate to the characters on Friends and they’re in their late 20s when the show BEGINS.  This means that they are a decade ahead of me in years but I have this unrealistic expectation that I too should be knee-deep in my career and family life.  I shouldn’t.  I am not.  I am not and I shouldn’t be.  I am exactly where I should be in life.  I graduated college and went on to a Master’s program right away.  I acted as a Teaching Assistant and had the weirdest experience of having to be an authority figure to people who were just like I was 3 months prior.  I thought back to my experience with Teaching Assistants my freshman year of college at the University of Nebraska before I transferred to a university where all my professors had their doctorate in what they taught (Thanks for being worth my money, Mary Washington!).  The TAs always were either ridiculously hard or so laid back and awesome.  Which one they were differed based upon whether they saw themselves as an “adult” or not.

I didn’t understand it at the time, but it was either acceptance of the weirdness of their situation or overcompensation. The hard TAs were basically saying, “I feel insecure in my position of authority over you so I’m going to ruin your life,” or I imagine that was what it was anyway.  I spent so much time trying to be “professional” that I think I was actually unavailable to the students—which is the exact opposite of what an educator should do.  Then I became a tutor for the athletic department and in my first semester was so formal in my correspondence that I ended up having a lot of students stand me up (which isn’t as bad as it sounds because I still got paid!).  The second semester I realized that if I texted them instead of emailed them they might actually show up, listen to me and learn, because guess what—just like me they were twenty-something’s who are attached to their phone like it’s a good luck charm.  Once I stopped trying to be an “adult,” I actually was able to do my job.

This isn’t to say that I didn’t make mistakes along the way, because I did.  There’s a great story about one of the students I tutored giving me his post-game Gatorade because I ran into him after I had personally drank a gallon of alcohol.  All this means is that I shouldn’t have tried so hard to fit into this definition of what it means to be an “adult.”  I don’t know what an adult is, honestly.  But if it means having a home-loan and babies and husbands at the young age of 24 then I never want to grow up.  I barely know who I am.  I eat candy for breakfast sometimes.  I stay up until 3 A.M. for no reason.  These are not things that adults do but they are things that I am supposed to be doing.  I work a crappy job for crappy pay and have not yet reached my goal of becoming a Men’s College Basketball coach and that is entirely okay.  If being married and having kids is what you want to be doing at 24, then do it.  If it’s not, just remember Chandler and Monica were in their 30s before they got married and half of marriages end in divorce.

Sara is a currently working a crappy job for crappy pay in Virginia. Some of my fondest memories are hanging out with her during our college years. When she does decide to become an adult the world better watch out cause she is going to take it by storm.

Guest Writer – Mean Girls: A Girl’s Guide To What Not To Say

“When is it acceptable to beat a woman unconscious?” was a question I never thought I would be asking. But here I am asking that exact question and looking for an answer from another women.

It was a Saturday night at a Dave Matthews concert when it happened. It happened when I struck up a conversation with the couple sitting next to me before the band started their first set. The man next to me had a large Baltimore Ravens seal tattooed on his calf. Being the forward person that I am and not afraid of awkward situations, I asked him what he thought of the whole Ray Rice controversy that is going on right now. Instantly, I got the answer from the woman sitting next to him; “Whatever she did, she probably deserved it” she said. I was taken aback by her instant response. As I sat there watching the lights go down and listening to the band started to play, I was stunned. I found myself thinking about how awful women treat and judge other women and how we are not going to get anywhere until we gain more of a respect for us as a gender and as people.

Women look at other women and instantly judge them. We label women with harsh words such as slut or whore. We categorize her as trashy all based on the way she is acting, speaking or dressed. Snap judgments based on not knowing anything about her. Women have a tendency to pass judgments and think that we are better than someone else just based purely on superficial things such as hair, breast size, and weight. How are we supposed to gain respect and equality in society when most of the time women disrespect each other? Are we not supposed to unite as a gender to fight for our rights as women?

Humans have a tendency to put themselves into groups and women are no different. Instead of being united, we split into small groups. Everyone who thinks they are better than the women next to them because you are [insert dividend here], go stand over there. By doing this, we perpetrate this idea that some of us deserve less respect and are viewed with less respect. Have men learned this behavior for us? Have we taught men that it is okay to not treat women equally? Is it then okay to beat your wife? I mean, according to the NFL the punishment for beating a woman to near unconsciousness is only a two game suspension. But do not even think about stomping on other players’ head during a game that will get you suspended for five games. Thank you, NFL for…well nothing. Again, here was an example of the NFL coming up short during a critical 2 minute play.

People on the internet sometimes make excuses for rape perpetrators. In what world is it okay to rape a woman, because, I mean, did you see the way she was dressed? That dress just begged to be taken off. You, could totally tell she was asking for it. Thanks general public. In what world is it okay to sexually assault a woman, video tape it and then post it for all to see?  After which you will only be banned from campus AFTER you graduate. Thanks James Madison University.  In what world is it okay for today’s government to create laws that will take away our rights as women, rights that we already fought for and won decades ago? Thanks government.  In what world it is okay to invest 401K funds in companies that create reproductive medication but then not have to offer this same medicine to your employees because of religious reasons. Thanks Supreme Court. In what world? Ours. How can we expect society have to treat women equally if we do not treat ourselves equally?

We need to stop the judgments. I do not pretend to be perfect. I am guilty of this judgment, almost all women are. Judgments however, are not getting us anywhere. We cut other women down because of the way they dress, act, and speak. It has to stop. We have to unite and fight because we are women and human beings. We can no longer afford to judge each other and separate each other into categories. We must instead unite as a gender and fight for our rights lest we continue to be viewed as the lesser gender which I think we can all agree is not true. We are many things. Strong, intelligent, and the bearers of children to name a few.  We must make it perfectly clear and insist that men and society treat us thus. We will not accept anything less.

It’s time we stand up united, so that I will never have to ask another woman, “When is it acceptable to beat a woman unconscious?”

 

The female writer would like everyone to know that the Dave Matthews concert was still fantastic none the less. She advises that you should all go see him in concert as soon as possible.

Managing Expectations

Managing expectations is something that I have become intimately acquainted with. While I am definitely sure that I was better off than many other college students I was irritated when I did not get a full-time job until almost a year after I left college. I mean, I was a catch! I was intelligent, savvy, and willing learn. I mean, what were people waiting for!?!

After leaving college, I couldn’t wait to start working. Getting up, getting dress, commuting, doing a full days work, and coming home. It all sounded so…grown up. And that’s what I wanted to be, a grown up. I have since rethought that but that’s another post for another time. When I first stated job searching I did not hear back at all. So my high self-esteem dipped a bit but I was determined so I kept trying. Then I started getting some interviews and with them my self-esteem rose a little higher. However, that was short-lived because no one was calling me back after the interviews . A phone interview followed by an in person interview, and then….silence. I mean most of them didn’t even have the courtesy to email me. Just radio silence. For awhile I thought it might be me, then after a long time I was convinced it was me. I took a break from job apply to have my surgery (I know you have no idea what I am talking about. Don’t worry I will get to it soon.) Then I finally did it….well sort of did it. I got a full-time job with a great organization called The Atlas Project as a research fellow. While it wasn’t a full-time staff job it was a job. It was around this time that I started to realize that I was not going to get a call from every job I applied to, no matter how perfect I thought I was for it. So I started to not get excited about anything. I would go to a job interview, think I did a great job ( I have become a zen master in the art of the interview), and left thinking “I so got this job.” Some went so well I would half expecting them, to call me an hour later and tell me how perfect I was. Rejection after rejection has changed my attitude toward the whole process. I now apply to jobs and almost immediately forget about them because 8/10 applications will get no response. OK maybe that’s a little high but you get my point. I have convinced myself that the perfect job does not exist. That I will get stuck doing something I can tolerate instead of something I actually like. Forget about loving my job, cause that ain’t never gonna happen.

Then it happened. My negative attitude toward job hunting took a turn yesterday after I had a job interview that may have actually landed me that illusive perfect job. I mean, could it really happen? Could I really finally have not only landed a full staff job but the perfect job as well? I told a few people but then I started second guessing myself. I mean, maybe it was all in my head and that would suck cause it really is exactly what I want to do. I could use my degree and learn about campaign finance and fundraising. It would be perfect but experience has shown my that when I think that it could happen it usually doesn’t. I have been told many times to put positive energy out and positive energy will come back to you but that is infinitely hard than it sounds. Life has a way of beating the optimism out of you.  So to limit the hurt that I get when a rejection comes in I have learned to…manage expectations.

Baby Later

I am going to say the one thing that makes people very nervous: I  do not want children. I enjoy kids in small doses but settling in for a lifetime of tantrums, fighting, parent teacher conferences, and debt, seems unnecessary and unhappy. Yes, parents will tell you that there are moments that make it all worth it but as a former child I think I can say with authority, there will need to be a hell of a lot more to  make up for the shit my brothers and I put my parents through.

I know I am  in the minority and I know that it would be really easy to say that I haven’t met the right person or I will change my mind but as my friends know, I really do not like children. I get along better and prefer adults. Babies are needy, toddlers move faster than I am willing to, I actually enjoy children between the ages of 4-10, pre-teens are too much like teenagers and teenagers are…well…teenagers. I have noticed that once a teenager hits 20 I suddenly like them. Maybe cause I have flash backs to some horrible times I had with fellow teenagers in middle and high school and am so not willing to deal with their drama.

Since moving back from college I have been able to see and understand better not only how hard it is to be a parent but the cost of being a parent. I mean having one kid must be hard but then there are families that do it multiply times?! I had to babysit these two little girls one day from about 3 pm until about midnight. So we spent the day outside playing and by the time they went to bed at 8:30/9 I was exhausted. I had to take the entire next day just to recuperate. I realized that my mother did that as well. The mere thought of doing it as a single parent just gives me nightmares. I thought, I can’t imagine this day in and day out. They were also on their best behavior with me which I KNOW is not always the case. I mean are those amazing moments worth all the work. I hate to say it but from my vantage point it’s not. I respect anyone who decides  to have a family but I do no think it is for me.

So will this change? Maybe. Can I reserve the right to change my mind? Yes.  Am I completely satisfied with my decision as of now? Absolutely.