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.

You should be slapped in the mouth!

Ok so I was a home taking a break from the college life and at my house we have this nearly archaic invention that some people forget exists sometimes: a landline phone. I know what you're thinking, who has a land line anymore? But I'm here to tell you that they do still exist! Anywho one of the many joys of a land line is that they are often listed in phonebooks and telemarketing lists and I'm sure other things that make it easy for people to call you and annoy you. So let me paint the picture for you: Its Saturday night around eight and my mom and I are having a pleasant conversation about pleasant things when all of a sudden, the phone rings. From that new-fangled contraption called caller ID we can clearly see that it's either a) someone we don't want to talk to or b) a telemarketer (but really what's the difference in those two options). Anyway so this time we decide to not let it ruin our lovely conversation and we ignore the call. A little while later, maybe ten minutes or so, the phone rings again. I recognize that it's the same kind of number and I decide that maybe it would be better to just handle the person on the other line so they wouldn’t continue calling and interrupting my mom time. So I answer the phone, not in the most polite voice but still not rude, and this is how the conversation goes:
Me: "Hello"
Telemarketer: Hello may I speak to Ms. Hoontay?
(Clearly this is not how you say my last name)
Me: May I ask who's calling? (Note the correct grammar and politeness here as this is key to the story)
Telemarketer: This is Linda from MedTech Advantage
Me: (to my mom but still into the phone) Mom, do you want to talk to Linda from MedTech Advantage?
Telemarketer: (before I could get an answer from my mom) Well you're just a rude child aren't you?
Me: (stunned into silence) hangs up

As I'm relaying the outrageous comment that a telemarketer who called and interrupted my lovely Saturday evening conversation with my mom, the phone rings yet again. Seeing that it is again Linda from MedTech Advantage I answer the phone again.

Me: Hello (much ruder than previously)
Linda from MedTech Advantage: You are a rude child who deserves to be slapped in the mouth!

Again I am stunned and in an effort to not express my true feelings of distaste for the whole idea of telemarketers, so I hung up again.

Now, am I the only one who thinks this is a bizarre thing to have happen? I mean how many of you have been called back by a telemarketer much less insulted by one? I don't know about you but I was very upset (to say the least) when this happened. I thought about calling up the company and complaining about appalling customer service and I thought about a long list of things I could have said back to Linda from MedTech Advantage but then I started thinking about Linda.

I know that every telemarketer is a person and that their job probably sucks because they get hung up on all day, but is it really necessary to lash out to an innocent potential customer like me? I mean obviously Linda from MedTech Advantage was having a bad night but hello? Why take it out on me? I get it I do. I know what it's like to work at a job you don't like and have to deal with customers on a daily basis but still, lashing out does nobody any good.

So what's the point of me telling you this story? Well besides the obvious- it's hilarious and crazy I thought I'd try and give you some nugget of advice or a life lesson and here it is. Even if you're having a bad day DON'T take it out on someone just for existing especially if you are representing somebody's company. I don't recommend it when you're only representing yourself either but ESPECIALLY when you're on the clock. Don't piss off the person who pays you. That's never a good plan.

It's been a whole two days since Linda called my house and I still can't believe that that happened? Got any crazy telemarketer stories that can top this one? Please let me know!