Apparntly, I'm a Murdrr of Tchnology

Things that broke this week:
* my laptop
* my blackberry
* my ipod

Also, no joke, when I'm around other people, suddenly they start having issues too. Like, when I was trying to chat with D and his skype stopped working, or when I walked into work on Thursday and the office wireless system suddenly went down. I feel like I'm sending out some weird electrical signals that have the singular goal of destroying anything tech-related.

The funniest thing about my phone is the way in which it is broken. It's almost hard to be mad when the brokenness of it is so freakin' bizarre. This is how my blackberry died: The screen lights up only when I hold down the red "off" key for about 10 seconds. Once "off" turns it "on", the trackpad only works on the main screen. As soon as I open up the bigger menu, the trackpad mysteriously fails to cooperate. So, this means I can't turn the phone off, set my alarm, or do any auto updates.

The best part of the brokenness though: The "e" key stopped working. I would text/bbm people and it would look like this: OMG my phon is so annoying. it's brokn. argggg. i hat this." Of course, I took this as a challenge and tried to send as many texts as possible with total disregard for the malfunctioning letter. If "e" didn't want to work for me, then fine. I didn't need it anyway. My texts became totally ridiculous: "arggg blackbrry did. I cant typ th lttr "". vrizon stor far away. can i gt a fr upgrad?".

Luckily, I ordered a new computer so at least I'm not "O for 3" anymore. Off to the Verizon store later today for a new blackberry (fingers crossed I don't break this one too).



***Updates to this blog have become few and far between but I also write health updates for the company blog at work (www.365daysofwellness.blogspot.com) if anyone wants to check it out. As soon as our busy season winds down (flu shot season is the busiest time of the year) I'm sure I'll start updating this one more often.

And This is Why I'm Not a Mother

Sometimes I worry how my children will turn out. I don't really know much about parenting but it seems like there are certain things that work, and certain things that don't work. But then, there's so much gray area it all just gets way too confusing. For example, something that doesn't work - hitting you kid. Something that does work - hitting your kid. And by hitting I mean spanking, or whatever it is that parents occasionally use to punish their children for bad behavior in order to teach them some sort of lesson. Anyway, this is not the point I want to make because I know "spanking" is a hot topic in mommy-world right now and people get really invested in the debate. My point is that some behaviors seem like they they would encourage a child to become the best person he or she can be, while others might stifle a child and prevent him from developing into a productive human being.

You would think that showering your only child with love and attention and investing in word-of-the-day toilet paper would produce a happy, smart, socially successful child. You might also think that leaving your 4-year old in the company of the family dog while you gulp back a few too many glasses of red wine with a man you just met on jdate would produce a bitter, mal-adjusted kid. But I now have living proof that this is not always the case.

So where do things go wrong? Clearly there's the whole nature v. nurture discussion but seriously, I guess this is why I'm not fit to be a parent. I feel like even when adults try to be the perfect parents, a child can still turn into a college drop out living at home with no job and a chain smoking habit that dulls the skin, yellows the teeth, and leaves you saying whaaaat happpenddd?

An Epic Quest for BBQ Sauce

Tomorrow, my company hosts a one-day, indoor, Farmer's Market for a law firm in downtown DC. This project has been in the works for several months, but apparently, it is an annual event.

The original market mission was to provide a team of overworked, stressed out lawyers with fresh, local produce to encourage eco-friendly habits and healthy eating. Unfortunately, farmers are busy people and they don't have time to just mosey on over into the heart of DC for a one-day, single-company event. So, in an attempt to procure enough vendors to fill the large, open space and draw the lawyers away from their desks during billable hours, the on-site coordinator requested gelato. Then chocolate. Then cupcakes. Then, McCutcheon's famous BBQ sauce.

Personally, I'm not a big fan of BBQ sauce. I don't really care for condiments in general but there's something about BBQ sauce that has always skeeved me out a little bit. I think mostly because I don't exactly understand what it is. It's not ketchup, and it's not A1. It's sort of sweet and goopy, but when it's spicy it's usually too spicy. I dunno... I guess a lot of people like it, but it's just not for me. Anyway, the law firm's event coordinator, Ebony, was a BIG fan of this famous "bone-suckin" sauce in years past and she would not allow the fair to take place without at least 2 cases present the day of the event.

So, despite the mountain of work sitting on my desk waiting to be dealt with, I drove from DC to "the historic town of Frederick, MD". What I thought would be a 45 minute drive turned into 2 hours of gnarly traffic, road construction, and bumpy back country roads. By the time I arrived at the cannery my legs had completely tightened up and my ears were ringing from hearing the same 3 songs on Hot 99.5 (Only Girl, Like a G6, Just the Way You Are).

And, while I'm thinking about it, what IS IT about 99.5? There are more than 5 songs that exist in the world right now... why do the djs feel obligated to play the same ones over and over and over and over?!? You really don't realize how little variety there is on the radio until you're in the car for several hours straight and able to memorize every ridiculous lyric in the top 10 countdown (with Ryan Seacrest! gagggg)

But I digress.

I picked up our wholesale order of BBQ sauce - as well as some apple butter and blackberry preserves (in an attempt to bring something wholesome and "farmer-y" to the table) and drove back to the office as fast as I could. What I thought would be a quick detour on my way to work ended up taking my ENTIRE morning. I returned to the office triumphant in my quest for sauce but dismayed to find it was already the afternoon. The clock read 12:02 pm. Ouch.

The worst part about this whole adventure is that my healthy, wellness-centered "market" has now become a kind of fair. Just a big, indoor fair. With BBQ sauce.

Now that I've figured out how to upload pictures, I can share my recent health fair images!

Here is a picture from a recent health fair I organized at a radio station in downtown DC.

With only two screeners, it was my smallest so far, but it went really smoothly and all the participants were wonderful. No one was squeamish, everyone bled well (sounds gross I know), and none of the employees fainted!

Even better - we had no machine mishaps and the schedule was booked solid from 9-3. Overall, the screening was a success!

R.E.S.P.E.C.T (why is it so effing hard to get any?)

My job is amazing. I think I've described it in bits and pieces before but basically I'm an event planner for a corporate wellness company. That means I plan health fairs, employee wellness challenges, and biometric screenings for local companies that want to make their employees healthy and happy. I do a lot of hiring of local screeners and plan events with the hope that the screeners are happy, the client is happy, and my boss is happy. Sometimes this is easy and sometimes things get a little nuts.

One issue I've encountered over the past month of employment has been the utter lack of respect I get from people who are older than I am. My job isn't exactly what the average person waltzes into right out of college. It's actually in pretty high demand and many of the biometric screeners, nurses, and dietitians I work with have been vying for jobs exactly like mine. I have an enormous amount of responsibility and I manage many individuals at a time. It's exhausting, time-consuming, and at the end of the day, extremely gratifying.

However, I'm 22. The average age of my screeners (health professionals who I hire and fire at my discretion) is probably about 40. Some of them are youngish college students with flexible schedules but the majority of them are moms or even grandmothers with decades of nursing experience and strong backgrounds in the wellness field. Whenever I take control at health fairs, some snide screener always feels the need to comment on my age, or my "cuteness", or my "tiny waist", or something equally irrelevant and inappropriate.

The point is - I do my job and I do it well and I do NOT appreciate people making me feel inferior simply because I have chubby cheeks and an enthusiastic, cheerful disposition. Some days, I even find myself wishing for a few more wrinkles or a some wisps of gray hair just so I might command a little respect (but, of course, those are fleeting thoughts!)

I know I shouldn't be complaining and I'm incredibly lucky to have such a fabulous job in a field I love right out of school, but how can I make people realize I know what I'm talking about? Hopefully, as I gain experience, I'll become more confident, and in time, perhaps that confidence will garner its own respect from those around me.

My Life in Bullet Points

I'm literally too busy to write in complete sentences so for now this bullet-pointed blog post will have to suffice. Oh look, that was actually a complete sentence! (As was that one...)

My days go something like this:

6:28 am - wake up
6:40 - run
7:50 - shower, pack lunch, eat breakfast
9 - go to work
5ish pm - drive home
6- snarf dinner because I'm so starving and exhausted I feel faint
7 - walk around the block a few times until I hit 10,000 steps on my pedometer
8 - eat dessert
9 - get in bed and watch 5 episodes of arrested development back to back
10 - sleep

This has been my life-schedule for the past 2 weeks with literally zero variation from day to day. The most exciting things that happened this week were:

1) seeing a cute puppy on my morning run
2) going for a walk midday and absorbing some vitamin D
3) walking to Target with my roommate A and buying a family sized pack of Twizzlers

I can't wait for the weekend :)

You Know You Have The Best Job In The World When...

So today my boss, a 51-year-old divorcee, brought her hermetically-sealed wedding dress from 1985 into the office. And what a wedding dress it was. Bedecked with crystal beads, a see-through lace bodice, and linebacker shoulder pads, the gown was like an 80's prom dress on crack.

I guess sentimental keepsakes become a lot less sentimental after you've started collecting alimony checks...so my boss, JR, ripped open the careful packaging with nary a care in the world and yanked her many-thousand-dollar gown out of its womb. After laughing hysterically for a good 10 minutes, she finally worked up the courage to try on the monstrosity. (Mind you, this entire ordeal occurred at 1 pm on a Friday afternoon.)

JR headed into the conference room, stripped down, and stepped into the past. At 51, JR, a registered dietitian, has run half a dozen marathons, keeps an elliptical in her 7x10 foot office, and eats nothing but kale and rainbow char. Her figure is that of a 20 year old lingerie model. So, it comes as no surprise when the dress she proudly wore 25 years ago slips easily over her hips and waist and settles nicely over her frame with only the slightest hint of tightness across her upper back. We all laughed and took pictures and then came dress-up time!

DF, one of the younger Program Managers, is about the same size as JR - 5'6, 120 lbs; slim, lean, narrow. She excuses herself to the conference room and pulls the dress on; it fits like it was made for her. She twirls around the office for a bit with a fake bouquet made from pipettes and recycled paper. After a few minutes, she tosses her faux-bouquet behind her back and EB, a co-worker engaged to be married on October 23rd, lunges for the paper flowers, catching the bouquet just before it hits the floor. She holds it up, victorious, and we all cheer and laugh.

The fun was over but my smile lasted for the rest of the day. I can't believe I get paid to do this. I must have the best job in the world.

Apparently, I'm a Klutz in DC

In Chicago I liked to think of myself as a fairly high functioning individual. I cooked and cleaned (occasionally) and did laundry. I knew how to wash dishes without breaking them and I drove my car without crashing it.

Then. I came to DC and my life seemed to fall apart. I started stumbling down stairs, dropping cups, spilling food. I went to costco with my mom and tried to make myself useful by lifting boxes of food out of the shopping cart and into the trunk of her car. Of course, the box I grab has a broken bottom and food tumbles out in every direction forcing me onto all fours in the crazy costco parking lot on a Saturday morning. I scrambled around collecting oranges and water bottles, praying I wouldn't get run over by deranged soccer moms.

So, I realized the klutziness was a real problem and decided to go above and beyond in my attempts to remedy this. I started going to bed earlier, thinking that an extra hour of sleep might help me stay focused throughout the day. I started drinking out of my camelbak water bottle during all our family meals in order to avoid knocking over my glass into everyone's meal. I even surrendered my new cutco knife to my mother so I didn't slice off a finger while cutting up fruit in my new apartment. Yet, despite my preventative measures, I still managed to sprain my finger, burn macaroni and cheese, and ruin my parents new stove in a 30 minute period after work today.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? Is it DC? Is it post-work exhaustion? Am I reverting to childish tendencies because I'm in my childhood home? Maybe once I'm all settled in my new apartment the klutziness will fade. I don't know though... thoughts?

I've Never Been So Tired In My Whole Life

Wow. The real world is exhausting.

I don't know why this comes as such a shock to me but it's literally an inexplicable feeling when you come home at the end of a 9-5 workday. Until this week I thought I knew what it meant to be tired but now I know the true meaning behind the word (and let's be honest, I'm still being quite the little drama queen. There are people who would laugh in my face right now if they heard me complaining).

When I compare my lifestyle to that of my friends doing "the finance thing" in New York I don't understand how they are still functioning human beings. Their days begin at 6 am and don't come to a close until their heads hit the pillow well after midnight. Although their jobs include long lunch breaks and idle time spent trying to look busy, they are still stuck inside an over-air-conditioned, artificially-lit office building for 15 hours straight. Yuck.

I'm very grateful because I have a fabulous job doing EXACTLY what I want to be doing but it doesn't make it any less draining. Right now I'm working at a wellness company just outside DC. It's a fairly small company but they are swamped with new clients so I really had to hit the ground running. I've only had 3 full days of work, but I'm proud to say I survived them all! It's funny... I was thinking about how I started this blog because I had nothing to do all day and writing was a way to keep me occupied. I blogged because I had nothing better to do. Now, I actually AM employed and I barely had even a second to spare to write this post. I'm wondering if I should rename the blog "I'm NOT blogging because I AM employed"

More to come later... hopefully the weekend will allow for some downtime!

Car Update!

I ended up buying a 2008 Honda CR-V.

It's taffeta white and even though I always pictured myself as more of a silver car kind of gal, I'm a big fan of the color. Very L.A.

To all of my thoughtful followers...thanks for the suggestions along the way. I considered a bunch of different cars before deciding on this one and it was a hard decision to make.

On another note...

Tomorrow (Monday August 23rd) is my first day of work. I'm excited and nervous and can't believe I'll actually be a (semi) fully functioning adult in 23 hours. Woohooo!!!

Wish me luck :)

Kat's Car Buying Adventures Part 1

"Hello there little girl, what can I help you with today?" asks the overly zealous car salesman the second I step out of the sweltering heat into the arctic Nissan dealership.

"Umm... I'm looking for a pre-owned Nissan Rogue or uhh a Honda CR-V," I stutter, taken aback by his unwavering attention to my car buying needs. "I have a pretty good sense of what I want, but I'm picky... maybe you can help me."

The salesman (let's call him J) looks me up and down in disbelief before asking me what my budget is. After I tell him my general range he turns to N, my sister's boyfriend who has accompanied me on my car buying adventure.

"Will you be financing this?" he questions N, suggesting that I am not financially competent enough to purchase a car without the help of a boyfriend or father present.

N, confused, laughs nervously. "No...I have a car. So uh... none for me today, thanks."

At this point my sister S, N, and I realize that this man has deemed me incapable of purchasing a car on my own and, in fact, seems extremely skeptical of the thought of me behind the wheel of a 2,000 pound vehicle. After I convince J I'm older than 12 and indeed in possession of a valid DC driver's license, he reluctantly hands over the keys to a sporty, black 2008 Rogue. I like the car, but it's not exactly what I had in mind. The faux-leather seats feel tacky and the inside is crowded and dark. Once I hit the road, the car drives like a dream, but after circling the block a few times I decide comfort and appearance matter more to me than the variable transmission (yeah, I totally just learned that car lingo today).

Anyway, I'm cruising along, headed back towards the dealership when all of the sudden I hear loud honking over the din from the radio. I check my mirrors and see a construction worker frantically waving an orange flag and gesturing wildly. My sister immediately shuts off the music and in the ensuing silence we hear the last of a vituperative Spanish outburst from a hundred meters back. Turns out, in my ditzy, half-focused state, I had completely missed a stop sign and barreled straight through a construction site. Oops.

Thankfully no one was hurt, but still. It's incredibly embarrassing to be a bad driver (I don't want to support the stereotype that women are hopeless behind the wheel of a car) but even more embarrassing is having a 3 person entourage to witness my poor driving skills.

As much as I love cute SUV's, I probably belong in a Minivan or a Volvo or, even better, a town car. I guess that's the dream. I'm just waiting for the day when someone will pull up in front of my house, open the passenger door for me, and chauffeur me directly to my destination.

Seriously Comcast?

So, I'm sitting in a dark, mildewy (but internet-wired) basement right now writing this brief blog post because Comcast shut off the wireless internet (and cable!) at my place. I only have 6 days left in my beloved Hyde Park apartment, so it's not the end of the world, but NOT having email access has been rough.

Sorry for the long gaps between posts. I'll try to update soon!

Maybe I Should Change the Name of this Blog

Yup, it's official. I got a job :)

After sending out my resume to over a hundred companies and drafting industry-appropriate cover letters; after whining to my parents and driving my friends crazy; after hours of babysitting and paid research studies, I can finally say: I'M EMPLOYED!

I think the hardest part now is picking up and leaving the world I've been a part of for the past 4 years. Hyde Park is certainly far from paradise but I carved out a homey niche for myself. My apartment, with its Pepto-Bismol pink walls and sticky kitchen floor, was a haven for me during the iciest days of winter and kept me safe from dining hall food and dorm germs.

Now it's on to the next apartment. My friend A and I have been searching all over craigslist hoping to find a 2 bedroom 2 bathroom unit that isn't underground and doesn't smell like stale beer. Unfortunately, I'm stuck in Chicago until the movers come in two weeks and A is busy at work all day. So, the main apartment hunter: my mom. That's what mothers are for, right? I've booked tours and appointments for her every day this week, barely allowing her time for lunch in between building visits. With little sister S playing chauffeur, mom has been trekking all over downtown DC in search of the perfect new place.

Fingers crossed A and I find an apartment we both love before the end of the week, otherwise all my belongings will sit in "movers limbo" somewhere between Chicago and Washington.

I'm looking forward to the next phase of my life but I have to say... I'm going to miss you hyDe parK.

Utter Indecisiveness

Decisions, decisions, decisions...

Do I want to live in a fun neighborhood full of bars and restaurants and people up all night OR do I want to live somewhere mellow and quiet and relaxing?

Do I want to live by myself and find a place close to work OR do I want to suffer through a traffic-jammed commute every morning in order to live with my best friend?

Do I want the additional safety and security of a building with amenities (doorman, video surveillance, etc) OR do I want to pay less and trust my instincts?

I'm so indecisive about everything. I feel like I should have at least a sense of what I want, but I don't. My mom reminds me how I hate driving and therefore probably want to minimize my morning commute by living close to the main road I take to work. This makes sense. But, just when that starts to sound like the way to go, my friend A starts telling me about the amazing social scene on the other side of town. Then that starts to make sense. After all, how bad can the drive home be if I come back every evening to unbeatable happy hour specials? I don't want to live alone because I hate coming home to an empty apartment, but I don't want to live somewhere I can't afford simply because that's what my friend wants. Then it's like, sure I have a fabulous luxury apartment, but I can't afford to eat. ever.

I feel like I just need someone to shake me and say "KAT WHAT DO YOU WANT?" Sometimes I can't even remember anymore...

When it comes to figuring out the future, things get tricky. Friendships can start to feel like business relationships, and the guy who works for the moving company starts to feel like your best friend. You begin to detest the family members you love, and the ones who normally drive you crazy start to feel like the only people you can talk to.

I guess, like anything else, transitions are a flip flop time. Does everyone feel like this?

Sometimes Even the Best Laid Plans Backfire...

My first plan in life was simple. When I grew up, I wanted to be an actress.

Ok...

So, I took some acting classes, did a ton of children's theater, got some head shots taken and then realized: I was not cut out to be an actress. In order to succeed in Hollywood, you need to be pushy, assertive, and ballsy. You need to act like a prima donna before you're really entitled to, and that was just never me. Even at age 7 I knew I couldn't stand up in front of a roomful of people without turning beet red. So, my next plan was to be a gymnast.

My parents signed me up for gymnastics classes and ballet classes and it turned out, I was pretty good. I was extremely flexible and actually had the perfect gymnast build (which came back to haunt me years later at Midway airport when a creepy guy looked me up and down and used the line "are you in the Olympics because you look like some sort of gymnast to me". Ick.) But the time comes in a young gymnast's life when she is forced to choose between the sport and her social life, and I just couldn't prioritize sweaty gym workouts over school and parties and being a teenager.

So, what was the next plan? Go to a great school, graduate with job offers left and right, and make enough money to get off my parent's cellphone plan.

I guess I got the first part right. Uchicago is currently somewhere in the top 10 colleges in the U.S. but somehow I failed to receive the dozens of job offers from companies begging for me to come "join their team!" and... my dad still pays my blackberry bill.

So does anybody get it right? Are there girls who say, "I'm going to be an actress" and they make it happen? My friends C and N knew as early as the first week of freshman year that they wanted to work in finance. They excelled in their majors and graduated with top honors. Both girls are currently employed by the largest investment bank in the world, making close to $100k starting salary, and living in luxury apartments in buildings equipped with doormen and fitness facilities. Were they somehow better at sticking to their plans? Were they more motivated than I was?

Or, did they just get lucky?

If you have a plan set in place early on, does it make any deviation feel like a mistake? Should I look at my inability to follow a plan as some kind of wonderful spontaneity on my part or as a result of my undiagnosed ADHD? How different would my life be today if I had just stuck with the original plan?

Sorry but it's too hot to do anything today

My apartment is literally one thousand degrees. I know Dane Cook would be on my case now for exaggerating like "Uhhh no it's not. You are exaggerating. It is not one thousand degrees. You are a liar." But if I'm exaggerating, it's minimal. Un-air-conditioned Hyde Park apartments heat up to suffocating temps in the summertime; something I did not know until recently.

Anyway, it is truly too hot to sleep, too hot to eat, too hot to type, so I'm going to go sit on the beach for a few hours and read a book and splash around in the apparently E.coli-infected waters.

Yum.

And Chicago Didn't Even Make the List...

A recent article in the Washington Business Journal touted DC as the #2 place for job hunting grads based on the cost of living, employment opportunities, and wages. Surprisingly, DC placed only behind Houston as "The" place to live.

While I find this incredibly encouraging for myself and my East Coast friends, it seems surprising that Chicago doesn't even place in the top 25. Chicago's cost of living seems comparable to DC's, it houses many major companies (such as Boeing, PepsiCo, and United Airlines) and it's full of young people. Lincoln Park, Wrigleyville, Belmont, etc. have bars on every block brimming with the under-30 set every weekend. No offense Tulsa, but it seems a little bit ridiculous that you would rank at #13 and Chicago doesn't even make the list of Best Cities for New College Grads!

Some might argue that Chicago is expensive or the job market is slim and those are fair arguments. But New York (#12) living expenses are higher than the tallest skyscrapers, and why would anyone even want to work in Dayton (#20)? I don't mean to hate on you, other cities, but come on, give Chicago a little credit.

Or, maybe I can see this as a good thing. If Chicago doesn't even make the list but, in my opinion, has a reasonable cost of living and companies offering competitive pay, it suggests that Chicago is lacking in the third category: job openings. Maybe this explains why it is so tough finding work right now - I'm looking for jobs that truly don't exist.

I might be born and bred on the East Coast, but Chicago, with all its Midwestern charm, will always hold a place in my heart. Even if no one here wants to hire me, I'm hoping this summer isn't my last in The Windy City.

We're All in the Same Gray Boat

Transition periods are scary.

Four years ago, the thought of leaving DC and moving to the Midwest for college seemed like the stupidest idea ever. Why would I want to leave the East Coast, I questioned myself over and over? What was I thinking? But, once I was all settled in (it took a few months to really feel at ease) I started to realize that as long as you have good friends, you will always feel like you're home.

Now, I'm in a similar transition period and it feels as unsettling as that first "Big Move" out West. Whenever I don't know what to expect, I feel out of control and helpless, and as a neat freak bordering on obsessive-compulsive, I hate feeling so vulnerable. Then, a few days ago, I realized: I'm being totally self-absorbed. EVERYBODY feels this way right now. I asked C if she was nervous before her first day of Goldman training and she shuddered.
"Of course," She replied. "And I have an advantage over others because I interned last summer. I at least have a sense of what's going to happen."

Even when we have an inkling of what to expect, the unexpected can still occur and until we've all developed regular routines and become accustomed to new daily patterns, life will seem a bit muddled.

Once, four years ago, Chicago was the spot of the Big Bad Transition. Now, the situation has reversed and I blame DC for my uncertainty. For now, I'd like to stop seeing things purely in black and white. Chicago is great but DC will be great too. Life during a transitional phase, it seems, is a crazy beautiful shade of gray.

A Little R & R...

I spent this past weekend in New York visiting friends and getting a much needed feel for the city. For some reason, after getting rejected by NYU over four years ago, I held a grudge against the city itself.

New York is dirty, I thought.
New York has too many weird hipsters, I thought.
New York is so imposing, I thought.

I returned to the city several times during my college career, but every visit was a "family visit" and usually included stressful cab rides, Broadway shows, and being shoved by Japanese tourists in Times Square.

So, what a refreshing change to escape Hyde Park and do New York up right!

I was a nomad for the weekend, wandering from 58th and Madison down to 31st and 7th every afternoon to visit my friend N at the Affinia hotel where she was bunking for two months. Every night consisted of bar hopping in the East Village or bumping into fellow Uchicago alums at the 24 hour nail salon near 27th and Lex (after inhaling an Indian feast so authentic my Indian friend's accent thickened from sheer bliss). But mostly. I walked. I walked and walked and ate and walked some more. We tried fabulous restaurants, sat in adorable cafes, and popped into cutesy vintage boutiques for some much needed wardrobe updating.

The best part of the weekend for me though, was the realization that even if I don't end up in Chicago, I'll be just fine. I've been clinging to what I know, rather than opening myself up to the idea that there are some pretty fabulous places where I could easily carve out a niche for myself. I know New York is the post-college dream, but I had always felt as if I wouldn't fit in. As my cousin L told me: It's really hard to not fit in, in NY.

Thank you N, C, L, S, and N for showing me your city and bringing a smile to my face. I'm lucky to have such amazing friends (and family!)

And...exciting news: while I was away, I received my very first job offer! I guess the saying's true. Things come along when you least expect it.

Is This a Sign I'm Growing Up?

Yesterday I laughed so hard I couldn't stop. It was one of those wheezing, gasping, uncontrollable guffaws when standing up seems like too much work and you have to sit down or fall over or do something to help calm the overwhelming wave of giggles. To be honest, I don't even remember what was so funny in the first place. All I know is it felt great to be in the company of good friends and
just
let
go.

I know in reality I'm a spoiled little princess who is living off a monthly allowance from my parents, but life still feels stressful. I have important decisions ahead of me and they feel monumental. They are monumental. And last night I realized, it's been a while since I've laughed so hard.

The little boy I babysit for (let's call him "M") laughs all the time. He finds pleasure in the simplest things. When I pick him up after school, he ogles clouds and sidewalk cracks; he picks up pebbles and taps on windows; he sprints down the sidewalk and screeches to a halt at every corner before reaching for my hand to help him cross the street.

M laughs maniacally when the homeless guy on the corner greets him: "Hey there little dude". M laughs when the cashier at The Med drops a penny on the floor. M laughs when I make a silly face, or when he puts on my sunglasses, or when lemonade escapes from his cup and dribbles down his chin. He's a cheery, happy, excitable little boy but sometimes when I see his face light up it saddens me because I know I used to be like that.

Once upon a time, EVERYTHING made me laugh. My two best friends in high school constantly had me rolling on the ground in stitches. In fact, I used to thank them for my great abs because I was convinced it was all the cackling that led to nice muscle definition. These days, when I'm with M, and I see his adorable little face dissolve into laughter, I miss the old me. I miss the me that had a million things to laugh about. I don't think I'm un-happy per se, it's just that this period of my life feels extremely unsettled and scary and I'm finding I have a lot less to laugh at.

Thanks Steph and Sam for bringing back my hysterical, hiccuping, paralyzing, laughter :)

I've Applied to ALL the Jobs

I'm interested in PR, marketing, journalism, event planning, and health & fitness - I like to tell people. As a general rule, I am not interested in the broader fields of finance, mathematics, politics, or plumbing. However, this job market has led me to apply to every. single. job. on the Chicago Career Connection website. Ok, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration. Clearly I haven't applied to the thousands of possible jobs on CAPS, but there is a page dedicated to the alumni network and its sole purpose is to connect recent, unemployed alums, with older, more established alums to improve their odds of finding employment.

This is a nice idea - really, it is.

But. The University of Chicago is a serious academic institution famous for its econ department, scientific research, and legendary Nobel Prize winners. More recently, it has become known as "Obama's 'hood". Uchicago is NOT generally recognized for its "fluff" majors (Communications, PR, and Journalism do not exist), its parties (how can I plan events where "fun goes to die"?), or its students' social skills (how can I ask someone for a job if he speaks the language of Star Trek?).

This poses a problem because it means my interests lie far outside the realm of the CAPS alumni network. As a result, I stopped being picky and decide to just apply to every single job on the page.

I applied to paralegal positions. I applied to consulting firms. I applied to investment banks and marketing research labs. I applied to Psych labs and hospital volunteer jobs. I applied to summer camps. I applied to Chicago's City Hall. I even applied to work in "drainage maintenance" (which is a euphemism for plumber) before I realized that it is actually an incredibly demanding job requiring specific skills, none of which I have.

Anyway, I felt pretty good about my applications. My cover letter is individualized for each company expressing my burning desire to work for them. My resume has been edited and re-edited, and I actually have multiple resumes with all my info organized differently depending on the industry in which I'm looking for employment. My email greeting has been polished and perfected to reflect the ideal balance of brains and cheer. And yet... I received only rejections. Or worse. No reply.

So, I tried to keep a positive attitude and returned to the CAPS site a few days ago planning to look over the alumni connection page again and pick out a few more jobs to apply to. And that was when it hit me.

As I scrolled my way up and down the page, I realized: I've applied to every single one of these jobs. Literally. There is not a single position on this page that I haven't already sent in my resume for.

So I guess I'll have to cross my fingers and hope someone gets back to me in the next few weeks. Or, it looks like I actually might have to use mommy and daddy's connections after all. *sigh*

Panic Monsters and Anxiety Gnomes

The episodes of panic are suffocating. Sheer terror grips me for several minutes at a time and I lie in my bed completely immobilized.

I picture small anxiety gnomes hopping on my head and swinging from my earlobes, fighting each other and clamoring loudly to force entry into my body. Some wriggle into my ears. Other squirm their way into my nostrils. The really feisty anxiety gnomes hold my nose and pry open my lips and when I gasp for much needed oxygen they jump onto my tongue and slide down towards the back of my throat causing me to gag on their oily, bitter bodies.

This is not a dream.

Every morning my alarm goes off (at a reasonable hour - I'm unemployed, mind you) and after I switch off "Tune_AssemblyLine", I lie in bed for several minutes thinking. A piece of advice to other recent grads without full time jobs: DO NOT THINK FIRST THING IN THE MORNING. If you do, here's what will happen.

It's early - your usual guards are down. You are tired. You don't have the energy to smile yet and act peppy. You start thinking whether it's time to get up and brush your teeth. Then, you think, well - if I'm getting up to brush my teeth I might as well get up officially for the day. You might think about the breakfast you'll make which will remind you that today was also the day you swore you'd go to the gym. But, thinking about the gym makes you remember the unopened How To Become A Personal Trainer textbook sitting on your bookshelf which makes you recall your earlier determination to get PT certified and get a job in health & fitness. You look at your bookshelf. You can't help but notice the pile of old clothes and shoes you set aside months ago hoping to give to the homeless. Of course, when you called the shelter they informed you that they did not want any of YOUR clothes but rather men's dress clothes. Um. Okayyyy. So there they sat. A bag of women's tank tops and cardigans; t-shirts and sweatpants; slippers and toiletries. What was once the inklings of a selfless good deed, has become a constant reminder that I a) still live in the apartment I lived in for 3 years of college. b) Am apparently too self-centered and egotistical to find a Salvation Army drop off near campus and c) So frazzled and stressed I'm clearly multi-tasking and inevitably accomplishing even less than if I sat down and completed task by task individually. I am scattered. I am scattered and I am panicked.

More specifically, today is July 13th. On August 18th the renters come back and I need to have my bed, dresser, desk, couch, armchairs, rugs, kitchen table, microwave, lamps, storage containers, clothes, shoes, TV, coffee table, and bookshelves packed up and moved away from this apartment. Where these items will go - I have no idea. Will they stay nearby in a new Hyde Park apartment? Will the travel north towards Lincoln Park / Wrigleyville? Or, will my belongings inevitably begin the 12 hour trip back to DC?

and, And, ANDDD on August 18th, will I know where I'm going? Will I have any sort of plan in place?

This limbo world is way less relaxing than I thought it would be. I can't wait for the anxiety gnomes to stop attacking my face every morning.

You're Telling Me I Can't Wash Dishes?!

A friend stopped by my apartment a few nights ago and told me one of the scariest stories I have ever heard. This is one of those tales that is so frightening I literally haven't slept for 3 days because I can't stop thinking about it.

Apparently, my friend's friend (let's call her S) attended Uchicago for 4 years and graduated several weeks ago, like me. S is interested in becoming a chef, but no restaurant will hire her straight out of college without kitchen experience. S understands that in the food industry you start at the bottom and work your way up. So, she agreeably decided it would be wise to gain exposure to the industry and save up some money before eventually heading to cooking school.

So. What did S do? She filled out applications at several Chicago restaurants for the position of DISHWASHER only to be told that they were unable to find a spot for her. Even when S explained her situation and promised she would truly put her very best effort into the job, the restaurants rejected poor S.

My friends and I sat in my living room digesting this story and came up with several un-PC explanations.
"Clearly S was overqualified," said Steph, "I mean, they probably saw her degree and knew she'd be smarter than her superiors. They were probably scared to hire her..." This seemed like a possibility but my friend quickly reminded us that S returned to the restaurants in person to explain why she wanted the dishwashing job and was still spurned even though she practically begged.
"Maybe it's because S doesn't speak Espanol," I taunted.
"Maybe...but she took French in high school because she thought it was a more "food focused" culture. S shouldn't be punished for speaking the WRONG romance language," Kennan argued.

Summary of the situation: S is a Uchicago English grad who is unemployed and moving back to Ohio to live with her parents because local restaurants find S incapable of washing dishes following 4 years of the (arguably) best undergraduate education in the country.

Yep. This is officially depressing...

First Blog Post

So, the title of this blog post is not particularly interesting. I guess I wanted to start with the obvious and hopefully all this writing will trigger some hidden inner creativity later.

Currently, I'm watching the world cup final with my roommate Stephanie and her younger sister. We are bored. This game is extremely dull.

My weekends are usually filled with never ending job applications (like my weeks) but I decided to take a few hours to myself and eat java chip ice cream and honey comb cereal (not together...separately) while watching the game and relaxing with the girls.

I guess since the plan is to use this blog as a way to accumulate writing samples and possibly connect with others who could help me with the big bad job hunt I should at least mention my interests.

I love to read and write. I'm a sucker for Jodi Picoult books and fitness magazines. In terms of employment I'm hoping to find a job in event planning, PR, marketing, hospitality, or journalism. My dream dream dream job is to be a pastry chef in Paris but I know I'd never find a way to pull that off. I'm an embarrassingly bad cook.

Does anyone have any recipe ideas for a broke college grad? Something that involves minimal time, minimal money, and loads of vitamins and minerals? I don't have benefits so I better stay healthy! (Thanks mom and dad for keeping me on the family health insurance for now by the way...)

Wow. this first post is definitely a mishmash of thoughts. I guess we can just assume I'll be ADD with this. I really can't imagine it being any other way...