My road to grown-up ness so far

Whew! It's been a crazy ride since I moved to New York! I'm finally having a spare minute to update my blog. So terribly sorry that I haven't written in months! But here I am to fill you all in on what's been up, here in the Big Apple.

So just to back track a little, I moved up here 11 DAYS after my graduation and there was definitely a lot to get used to. First of all, May in New York is HOT. I mean yeah I'm from the south where it gets to be 90's and above in the summer but one thing that houses in the south and apartments in New York don't have in common, is central air conditioning. Here in New York, they have window units which just in case you're not familiar, window units cool only the room they happen to be in the window of, which in my case was not my bedroom. So there were a few months there where I didn't even have a comforter on my bed because it was sooo hot. So the first month and a half ish I was pretty unemployed. I mean I dabbled pretty lightly in freelancing for a company but other than a few hours a week I was scouring websites from Craigslist, to LinkedIn to Quirks applying for all kinds of jobs that were just barely tangentially related to what I wanted to do with my life. By mid-June I'd been on several interviews and had soooo many phone interviews and gotten soooo many rejection emails that I was beginning to feel like I had made the biggest mistake of my life. I lived far away from my mommy and daddy and there was a point there where I had such severe homesickness that I actually looked up ticket prices for a flight home. In order to kind of pull myself out of this rut I tried to get more involved in church and I literally called my mom like five times a day just to chat. But I was still pretty down. I had these grandiose expectations of my life after college and my life plan was just not falling into place. I mean I know that in today's job market things are bad blah blah blah. I've heard that a million times but I, like I guess everyone else in my generation, have this mentality that those kinds of generalizations just won't apply to me. However, in the midst of this state of severe disillusionment and discouragement, the ball started rolling. And here's how it happened.

So I applied for just another random entry level market research position I found on a random job website. By this time it was like the millionth job I'd applied for and I didn't really think anything about it. Then I get a call that they want me to come in for an interview. So I'm excited but at the same time kind of wary since the address they gave me wasn't for the company described in the posting. So I was wondering if this was some sketch thing but I decided to go anyway. So I show up to this place on Madison Ave and I meet a bright, sweet, bubbly recruiter who tells me all about her job and this position she's trying to fill but then she goes right into how there aren't many entry level positions out there right now and that not a lot of people are hiring but that she wants to keep in touch even if things don't work out for this job and that she thinks I'm really great and that she wants to help. So I leave the interview not really feeling encouraged but at least I still hadn't gone an entire week in New York without an interview.

That night I went home and went back to Craigslist and applied to be a PowerPoint Designer at a random company that wasn't even mentioned in the ad. Since I'd had good practice with PowerPoint all throughout school, I decided that I'd be awesome at that job. So I sang my praises in my cover letter and to my surprise, they actually called me in for an interview. So I make the trek down to lower Manhattan near Wall St (where the OWS protesters are now camped out) and met with a happy and super nice guy who interviewed me for the job. By the end of the half hour or however long it took interview, he had basically told me that the job was mine and that he'd call and confirm the next day and that I could start the day after that. So I was pretty excited. Yeah it was for $11 an hour but that was $11 more an hour than I was currently making. So true to his word, he called me the next morning and offered me the job. Obviously I accepted enthusiastically and reported for work the next day. Now this job was especially wonderful for my first New York job. It was very flexible which allowed me to work from home if I wanted to or to go for other interviews and it had really good hours, 10-5. Even though the work wasn't particularly thrilling-- it was all about financial training exams-- it was work and I had something to do and at the end of every 2 weeks I got a check which when you haven't been getting any money for a long while...

Anyway so I do this job for a few months and things are going great...I'm still not able to really support myself financially but I'm making money and at least paying some of my bills (thanks Mom and Dad def couldn't have done all this without you!)And one morning while I'm at work I get a call from the recruiter who I haven't spoken to in weeks. She says, 'Hey there's a temp position at a really cool market research firm and they're looking for someone like you to temp indefinitely are you interested?" Am I interested? Is water wet? So we went through all the preparatory things for my interview. I had a phone interview on a Wednesday and started work the following Monday.

The job was absolutely perfect. Challenging but fun and exactly what I wanted to be doing in my first job. There are great people and it's a really fun and hip company and just overall a fun company. I get to work for really cool media and TV clients and I've learned so much and I love it. So after a month or so, my bosses started asking me if I was interested in staying on full time and of course I enthusiastically said YES! But nothing really happened with that until the end of October, when I was officially offered a full time job as a Quantitative Analyst that I happily accepted!!!

So now I'm a full time, tax-paying, benefit holding contributing member of society! WOO HOO! I have landed my dream job within SIX MONTHS of my graduation. While I'm the youngest person in my office, I really feel like I fit with the company and that I'll be here for a very long time. I love everything about it which makes me just so happy because I know so many people out there who start out in jobs they hate and have to stick with it for a while. Thank you God for looking out for me and teaching me all the patience and perseverance of those six months of unemployed-ness and thank you for providing such an awesome first job for me!

so...that's what you call art, eh?

So as most of you are aware, I now live in the Big Apple. And while I'm still scouring the city for a super awesome new job, I've decided to do some exploring and see what all the hype is about. Now as I mentioned, I'm obviously not made out of money. Being unemployed yet living in an NYC apartment doesn't provide a great deal of disposable income. So I've been doing some free stuff. My favorite, and you can probably guess from the title, was my trip last week to the MOMA. For you folks not from round here, that's the Museum of Modern Art. Every Friday thanks to Target, everyone can get in free. So I decided to check it out.

So you're probably thinking to yourself, "Wow, she is so cultured and intellectual!" But don't judge me too hastily. Apparently, my taste in art is not as developed as the big wigs in the art world. Don't get me wrong but some of this stuff in the museum wasn't, in my humble, humble opinion, shouldn't really be considered art. I know that beauty is in the eye of the beholder and don't get me wrong, some of the art was indeed FANTASTIC, but some of this stuff (which I am going to tell you about so SPOILER ALERT for those who haven't been recently) was just weird.

So, since I am a planner at heart, before I left for the museum I planned my route. I decided to see the famous stuff, Van Gogh, Picasso, Matisse first and then look at architecture, design, and photography. So I did just that. I spent a long time looking at Van Gogh's brushstrokes and colors in Starry Starry Night and looking at Picasso's pictures of those women with their body parts all jumbled up. And then I went to gallery that was a bunch of fonts. Interesting to look at but then again it was basically the alphabet over and over again in different fonts. And then ladies and gentleman, then I decided to mosey on over to photography.

Here's where it gets interesting. Sorry, just one more aside. For those of you who like audio tours and like to read the backstory on art work, I'm not one of those so if you disagree with my opinion because you happen to know the backstory or the reason behind this particular exhibit, please disregard this heinously biased opinion. OK so I walk into this gallery and there's a small sign that reads, "Some of the art in this gallery may be deemed intense and not suited for all visitors." So, I'm thinking to myself, "OK this is gonna be good!" However, I was sadly mistaken. I walk into this gallery and am immediately looking into a nearly lifesized photograph of an old woman who is standing in the frame fully clothed yet exposing both her breasts and her hoohah and staring directly into the camera. And that wasn't it. There was a close up of a man's nipple with him squeezing it, a photo of a man's diseased backside, and a woman standing stark naked in the middle of a disgusting bathroom. I gleaned from my once over of the captions that this exhibit was supposed to show the condition of homeless people somewhere in east Europe but to me, this whole room of photographs was just terribly mind boggling. I mean, I applaud the photographer for having the necessary skills to convince these people to pose for him because, obviously (or I hope) these women and men don't stand around exposing themselves randomly. I mean, I think it would be interesting to know what exactly this guy said to these subjects to get them to pose. "Uh, hey, will you show me your goodies so I can take a picture, blow it up, and show the world your nakedness?" I mean how exactly would that conversation have gone?

Now I understand that modern art consists of art from some certain date forward but it boggles my mind that these photographs are displayed only a floor away from some of the most exquisite and famous pieces of artwork.

Sigh- I digress. I simply wanted to share with you, Oh Dear Readers, my recent eye opening experience soaking up some culture. Now, some of you out there may think that I've got no taste, and you are certainly entitled to your own opinion, but to me, a diseased butt crack, isn't something I want hanging on my wall. But don't take my word for it. Go see it for yourself.

Put a fork in me cuz I'm DONE!

I can't even begin to describe all the feelings I'm experiencing right now...but I'll give it a try. I have officially finished ALL of my college school work and now I am just waiting to walk across the stage and get my diploma in the mail. It's such a strange feeling to be finished with school. I've been in school for most of my life and now I'm finished? No more class? No more homework? WOO HOO! But wait- now I'm moving? Getting a job? Starting to pay bills? OH NO! I'm a grown-up now! AAAHHH!

Deep breath. Ok I'm good. I know it's been a long while since my last post but the last two months of school were killer. Not to mention the fact that I've flown up to NYC twice, had multiple group projects, and an increased workload at my internship. But here I am on the other side only stronger- or so they say- and wiser (I hope that one's true).

So now all I have to do is get my stuff together and move it across the country to the Big Apple. This task in itself is a daunting one. However, I'm not alone. I've got two sisters and whole church family rooting for me in New York and of course all my friends and family here at home. It's a bizarre feeling, graduating and moving on with my life. It's unsettling but I'm ready for the challenge. Bring it on New York! Bring it on corporate America! Bring it on grown-up hood! I can take it!

I think.

white rice and butter

A few weeks ago I was talking to a friend of mine and somehow we got to talking about eating rice. I don't know if it's just my family's Caribbean roots or what, but for as long as I can remember, we've eaten plain white rice with butter as a side dish for just about any meal. Oh we're having chicken? Let's have some rice. What goes well with fish? hmm...how about some rice? Oh steak you say? Yep-- you guessed it; we're having rice. Now this isn't a diatribe about how delicious and versatile rice is (although it really is) and it isn't me proclaiming that rice is by far the king of side dishes. I just wanted to share how this encounter made me realize that people can look at the same thing (plain white rice with butter) and view it completely differently.

When I said to my friend, man I could really go for some rice and butter right now, he responded by saying that nobody eats plain rice with butter. He then went on to tell me that it was weird to eat rice without some kind of gravy or other topping. But to me the idea of not eating rice with butter seemed just as preposterous. I mean seriously, who doesn't eat rice with butter? So to prove to him that I was not the only person on the planet to like eating rice and butter I took a poll of people who we happened to encounter together. Turns out he's the weird one after all and more people do eat plain white rice. But this whole deal got me thinking...why is it that people assume that what is common in their own lives is common in everyone else's?

Everyone, no matter how similar their backgrounds, has unique experiences and preferences. While there will undoubtedly be some overlap between people, you can't go through life banking on that assumption. Just like people eat different things people think different things, and deal with things differently. Assuming that people respond in the same way you do to things can lead to conflict as well as disappointment but it could also lead to some surprises. It's these differences between people that make life more interesting. However, it is important to remember these differences when dealing with people...even people you know well.

There's no place like home...or a BP station

It's that time of year again where all college students jump for joy, click their heels, and celebrate! You guessed it; it's Spring Break. That week of having no academic obligations and for some no inhibitions. It's become synonymous with wild parties, beach all day and night, and massive hangovers to start the day and more drinks to continue the viscous cycle. However, for me this year, my plans are much more subdued. They're focused on finding a job and getting ahead on my school work. However as with all things there is a beginning and an end. This story here today is about the beginning.

Last night after attempting to make the hour-and-a-half drive home from school, I changed my mind because of the combination of the rain, poor windshield wipers, and darkness. That trifecta seemed like a bad omen so I decided to stay put. So I slept on it. I woke up early, well early for a Saturday, looked out the window and saw that it wasn't raining! Score! So I quickly got dressed and headed out the door. As I began my drive I wasn't too troubled by the light drizzle that started almost as soon as got in the car. For the first forty or so minutes everything was great. Driving along, singing along to the radio, and then the bottom fell out of the sky. Now, for those of you who know me, I'm normally a let's-get-there kind of driver. But I tell you this- at one point there I was literally driving 30 miles per hour on the highway. my windshield wipers were helpless against the deluge. It was all I could do to stay between the lines that were getting more and more difficult to make out through the window.

I’m continuing on my way hoping that the rain would relent a little but instead the opposite happened. I went from barely being able to see to not being able to see at all. By this time my heart is pounding in my ears I’m sweating and I’m gripping the steering wheel so hard that it’s starting to hurt. I try to think of what the best thing to do in this situation is and all that is coming through my mind is, "what if there's a tornado? Will I even see it coming? Will I really have to get out and lay in a ditch which in this weather is completely filled with water? What if I pull over and get stuck in the mud? what if I pull over and other cars cant seem since my car is silver and will blend into the dismal gray that is all encompassing?" then unbelievably, it begins to rain even harder. At this point I am nearing panic and I am overwhelmed with fear of all the what ifs that are continuing to run through my brain. I cry out aloud, "Jesus save me!" it was the only outlet I had. I had no idea where I was in the 90-mile course that leads me home. All I could see was rain. Within 90 seconds of crying out in fear and for help, I made out the vague image of a BP sign on my right. Relief coursed through every vein in my body. Slowly carefully I pulled off the highway into the gas station and stopped, put the car in park, and cried. We’re not talking hysterical sobs or anything it was just my body's response to fear and stress and being rescued.

As I sat at the gas station the weather did not relent. I checked my phone and saw that the rain was only expected to worsen. There were tornado watches and warnings and flood warnings and every other bad kind of thunderstorm warning out there that there could be. I knew that the longer I sat at this gas station that it would mean that the weather would only get worse. However, there was nothing in me that wanted to continue driving. I have never felt such severe longing to be home. It was very similar to Dorothy in the wizard of oz. so as I’m sitting there crying in the rain at the BP station I made a deal with myself: when I can see all those trees across the highway then I'll try and keep going. So I sit and wait. And wait. Twenty minutes or so go by and finally I can make out the outline of the trees and I keep my end of the bargain and I timidly pull back out onto the highway. From there on, yeah it's still raining but I can still clearly see the lines on either side of me and eventually as I cross the state line the rain subsides and finally stops altogether.

So I made it home safely after almost three quarters of an hour later than I would have it the weather had been ideal. And I don’t think I have ever been more relieved to be at my house and out of the car and out of the rain. I know that that BP station has been right where it is for at least as long as I’ve been making the trek from mobile to Hattiesburg. And I know that eventually if I continued on my journey that I would eventually come across it. However, I had absolutely no idea where I was. Even though I knew my destination and how to get there I felt completely lost and isolated from the world. I cried out for help and it was given almost immediately.

So, what did I learn from this? Well, a few things actually.
1. I cry when I’m stressed out and afraid

2. The storm will eventually pass; you just have to wait long enough

3. Even though I drive a tiny car with windshield wipers that aren't strong enough to compete with the harshness of torrential rain, and even though I may feel like a small insignificant creature sometimes, that help will come to those who ask for it.

It's a marshmallow world in the winter...

It was the first week of my last semester as an undergrad. I live in Hattiesburg, Miss. and as you know round these parts, it doesn't ever get to be negative degrees outside but it does get to be about 30 degrees and with the wind it feels downright frigid. So I'm walking home from a challenging (especially for the first week of school) day of school alone. It's cold. Wind blowing and obviously my jacket is too thin since I'm shivering and I'm only about thirty steps out of the warm interior of the College of Business. I'm walking across parking lots trying to make a bee line for my dorm when I look up and a Gatorade cooler and two guys sitting on the curb. My first thought was, "Oh God they're going to try and sell me something. I don't want to stop and talk to anyone since it's too cold to be walking outside in the first place." Since they were directly in my path, there was nothing I could do to avoid these potential nuisances, so I keep going. As I get closer to them I try to think of the best (yet polite) way to avoid these men. Whether it’s as simple as not making eye contact or giving them a wide berth I couldn’t decide. As I get closer one of the guys gets up and picks up a Styrofoam cup. As I'm passing he says simply this, "Have you had some hot chocolate today?" Then he hands me the cup and says, "Have a great day." At first I was like..."Great, now I have to drink this and it's probably not sweet and it’s probably not hot and..." and this list of negativity went on and on. This steady stream of negative thoughts persisted until I took a sip and discovered that this small cup of hot chocolate had mini marshmallows in it. Suddenly my outlook on the whole exchange changed. Suddenly I was happy that on this miserably cold day, someone stayed outside with the sole purpose of giving out hot chocolate with marshmallows to shivering passersby. Suddenly, I was grateful and happy and definitely warmer. I finished my walk home and by the time I got there I felt a lot better and a lot less stressed about my day. Why is it that my natural instinct was the think the absolute worst about these Christian (they were members of the Wesley group on campus) men? Why didn't it occur to me that they were just trying to do something small to help people deal with the long walk in the cold?

And why is it that marshmallows just make hot chocolate so damn delicious? Is it that they melt and their sugary deliciousness spreads throughout the whole mixture making it that much sweeter? Or is it that it makes it more fun to drink since they are floating on the surface? Whatever it is about those marshmallows, that is what caused me to look at this situation in a new light. It is so easy to project a bad mood or stress onto a benign situation. Why isn’t it equally easy to project happiness onto negative situations?

Since it’s my last semester I want to make the most out of it. I realized from my own negative initial response to this pleasant encounter, that I need to step back and not let my own personal stress dictate how I relate to other people. I’m going to fight the urge to project negativity on things and instead, enjoy the marshmallows.

It's a good thing I'm about to graduate since I'm losing all my WISDOM

Now before you jump to conclusions about me doing something stupid the title here refers to the pending doom of getting all four of my wisdom teeth EXTRACTED. And when I say extracted I don't mean sitting in the dentist's office with him going at my mouth with some pliers. I mean the whole shebang. I'm going to an ORAL SURGEON (yep, I said it, surgeon). Now I know that people do this all the time. I'm by no means the first or only one of a few people to have this procedure. It's actually one of the most common oral procedures that people my age and younger go through (kinda like braces only worse I'd imagine). So I'm gonna do it. Even though I'm not excited (AT ALL) I'm going to bite the bullet and go through with it.

SO you probably think I'm being a baby right? Whining about a simple procedure that bazillions of people have to go through at some point in their lives. But haven't you ever been afraid or apprehensive about something imminent and unavoidable before? I mean trust me, this isn't the only thing in my life right now that has me on edge. I mean listen up- I'm graduating in five months and after that it's going to be up to me to get my behind in gear and get a fabulous job and embrace adulthood. Now at this moment (with my oral operation a mere two days away) I'm much more worried about my teeth, but believe me, that whole growing up thing is always looming on the edge of my thoughts. But I know one thing. God's got a plan for me that's going to prosper and not harm me. So I take comfort in that. But this is where it gets hairy. Faith is a hard thing to do. It goes against that human desire to want to control EVERYTHING when in reality, I can't control ANYTHING.

Do I believe that I have the talent and skills needed to get a super awesome big girl job in marketing? Absolutely. I haven't been working hard the past four years for nothing. That's my goal. But I know also that I've got to continue to trust that everything is going to be taken care of by the big man upstairs. He's got my back and even though I freak out (about every ten minutes) that something will go wrong with the anesthesia or my face will swell up like a chipmunk or that I'll be one of the failure to launch kids who still lives with their parents at age 30, but I've got to just give that to God.

Now I've just got to man up and go to the doctor and let him take my teeth out of my skull. And after that- all I gotta do is find a J-O-B. woo hoo!

I guess this is what growing up is. Doing things that you don't necessarily want to do but that will in the long run help you (like not letting your impacted bottom wisdom teeth make my other teeth decay) and not letting fear get in the way. I'm going to let this guy cut into my gums, break two of my teeth into three pieces and pull them out of my mouth. Yay. It's gotta be done. Gotta do it. Gonna do it. Wish me luck.