I would love to write sunny things, happy things, giggly things...but that's not where I am right now. And that sort of thing is well-covered by some professionals at Hellogiggles.com, including one of my heroes, Zooey Deschanel. Sometimes I can't stand her, though, and others like her, because I start to think about how much I have not accomplished, how much I have not yet done.
I get that same bitter reaction while reading alumni publications and emails, the Phi Beta Kappa magazine, and others of the sort. I like the design, the articles, especially about exhibitions. But...then I see people both younger and older than I am doing great things, to borrow a Buckeye phrase. What am I doing?
Well, I can make it sound really interesting if I try. I teach a survey course in Art History at a local branch of a major university, bringing a little art into the lives of accounting and sociology majors. I also work at a local non-profit, helping people find the aid and services they need in these tough times and recruiting volunteers. I have also recently been told that I am a good writer. I don't know about that last. You're reading this, so you tell me.
Here's where reality sets in: most of my students don't bother to show up or complete assignments. Many of them didn't know the course would be quite so challenging. And I'm at my wits end, at the end of week 8 of a 10-week quarter, to help those who want to be helped. And those who do not seem to want help...
I'm not sure what exactly happened to my goals. I'm back to wondering why the heck I ever left Columbus in the first place. I definitely didn't go to graduate school intending to return to rural Ohio. Neither one of my jobs will help me with a future museum career. At least not in my opinion. At this moment in time. I miss city life. I miss mattering in some way, shape, or form. The sinking feeling that's getting to me right now is that it isn't just about the recession. I am up against a tough job market, but I also haven't done enough. Not enough to get me where I wanted to be four years ago.
This town isn't really the best town to live in when you're an idealist. Or a liberal. Or a big dreamer. I'm confronted by a lot of hardship on the job, both jobs, and the bleakness others feel, yeah I just absorb it like a sponge.
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To update: I always fluctuate back to mindlessly optimistic. And by that I mean I get big ideas in my head and ignore their impracticality. Like my latest brain storm. I've been noticing that my main annoyances with rural life center on the glaring lack of literacy, both adults and children. There is the Muskingum County Literacy Council, which could always use volunteer tutors. And I think, maybe that's something I can do to solve this problem. But if I added another gig to my plate, I just might go completely crazy instead of half-way there.
04 November 2011
07 October 2011
disconnect
I'm a little crestfallen about the whole teaching thing. Somebody told me once I was a natural, and when I was observed a couple weeks ago, they said I was doing exactly what I should be doing. My problem is getting the students to interact more, remember the material...and show up to class. Those are pretty big problems. Hence why I think maybe teaching isn't for me.
And it's not easy to worry about my quality as an educator at this particular moment in history. In the last year teachers have been criticized for earning too much money and too many benefits for working "only 9 months," demonized when those bad apples got caught changing students' answers, and just generally crapped on. How do you suppose young teachers are feeling right now? Well, I think I know how the unemployed ones are feeling...you get this Masters degree and then all you can find is subbing unless you move (and uproot your family perhaps) across the country. And the employed ones? They face the constant threat of lay-offs, often seniority-based. Then there's my primary fear: that I'm not good enough.
I wish I could just take my brain and copy and paste it onto the students, but that's not how it works. I've been seeing some good interaction from particular students, some smiles and even a few proverbial light bulbs when something clicks in their heads. But the first midterm was brutal. And I'm having trouble not thinking that it is my fault. My questions were either too difficult or badly written, or my lectures aren't memorable enough. But they have the textbook, which lays it all out. They haven't done too badly on the homework. It all boils down to effort I think. My effort and theirs.
And there's a major disconnect: I'm putting my all into this, and consequently taking all the badness onto my shoulders. Many of the students are too quick with an excuse, and they don't show me any willingness to work harder. That shows on their grades. And on my own grade for myself.
And it's not easy to worry about my quality as an educator at this particular moment in history. In the last year teachers have been criticized for earning too much money and too many benefits for working "only 9 months," demonized when those bad apples got caught changing students' answers, and just generally crapped on. How do you suppose young teachers are feeling right now? Well, I think I know how the unemployed ones are feeling...you get this Masters degree and then all you can find is subbing unless you move (and uproot your family perhaps) across the country. And the employed ones? They face the constant threat of lay-offs, often seniority-based. Then there's my primary fear: that I'm not good enough.
I wish I could just take my brain and copy and paste it onto the students, but that's not how it works. I've been seeing some good interaction from particular students, some smiles and even a few proverbial light bulbs when something clicks in their heads. But the first midterm was brutal. And I'm having trouble not thinking that it is my fault. My questions were either too difficult or badly written, or my lectures aren't memorable enough. But they have the textbook, which lays it all out. They haven't done too badly on the homework. It all boils down to effort I think. My effort and theirs.
And there's a major disconnect: I'm putting my all into this, and consequently taking all the badness onto my shoulders. Many of the students are too quick with an excuse, and they don't show me any willingness to work harder. That shows on their grades. And on my own grade for myself.
26 September 2011
thoughts on trying to be an academic
Yesterday would have been a lovely day to drive down to Athens (Ohio, that is), yet unfortunately I was stuck at home doing laundry, writing an exam and generally vegging out. Today is a gray day, and being at work in Zanesville would have prevented me from such a road trip anyway. I'm thinking about Athens because I was invited (with every other faculty and staff member, I'm nothing special), to a brown-bag meeting of sorts at Alden Library. The topic was "Using Principles of Design to Rethink Powerpoint," which I figured would be interesting, even if I don't teach long-term.
With today's lovely technology, I was able to watch the talk online. And inevitably, everything the speaker said made me think in my head, "Yes, but for an art history lecture..." The presenter is a professor of communications, and he extended his points to other subjects such as biology, business and chemistry, but nothing was mentioned about art history. If I were brave (and if my computer were equipped with a microphone) perhaps I would have chimed in.
Some things did make sense for all subjects; such as, using properties of narrative and compare/contrast to tie the information together. I do that all the time, naturally I think. Especially when I obliterate the order in which images are printed in the book. And one rule I go by every week: if your students could print out your Powerpoint and have all the information without your spoken words, you're doing something wrong.
However, a lot of things said and presented are the exact opposite of what I do, and I'm hesitant to make those changes. For example, he mocked the concept of black backgrounds, calling it his "Dark Period." Now I use black not to be "artsy" but to give a better view of the details and colors in each image. White just messes it all up. And I don't have a lot of graphics and charts and captions and text...that's just part and parcel of an art history lecture. It's all about the image. Period. I try to mix things up with video and real artist's tools and supplies, but really, it's all about those slides. I just don't have the luxury of turning off the projector like I'm sure some other professors do.
I'm not a graphic designer, and neither is the presenter. He did gave a line that cracked me up, though: "I'm not an expert in graphic design, but I know enough to be dangerous." If I were able, I'd be happy to use the Rule of Thirds, etc. But when my slides are paintings, sculpture and views of architecture, I see no harm in exact centering. Sometimes I'd like to use different fonts and effects, but that takes away from the art, which is not only a visual aid, but the topic of discussion itself...
I guess art history is really that unique.
With today's lovely technology, I was able to watch the talk online. And inevitably, everything the speaker said made me think in my head, "Yes, but for an art history lecture..." The presenter is a professor of communications, and he extended his points to other subjects such as biology, business and chemistry, but nothing was mentioned about art history. If I were brave (and if my computer were equipped with a microphone) perhaps I would have chimed in.
Some things did make sense for all subjects; such as, using properties of narrative and compare/contrast to tie the information together. I do that all the time, naturally I think. Especially when I obliterate the order in which images are printed in the book. And one rule I go by every week: if your students could print out your Powerpoint and have all the information without your spoken words, you're doing something wrong.
However, a lot of things said and presented are the exact opposite of what I do, and I'm hesitant to make those changes. For example, he mocked the concept of black backgrounds, calling it his "Dark Period." Now I use black not to be "artsy" but to give a better view of the details and colors in each image. White just messes it all up. And I don't have a lot of graphics and charts and captions and text...that's just part and parcel of an art history lecture. It's all about the image. Period. I try to mix things up with video and real artist's tools and supplies, but really, it's all about those slides. I just don't have the luxury of turning off the projector like I'm sure some other professors do.
I'm not a graphic designer, and neither is the presenter. He did gave a line that cracked me up, though: "I'm not an expert in graphic design, but I know enough to be dangerous." If I were able, I'd be happy to use the Rule of Thirds, etc. But when my slides are paintings, sculpture and views of architecture, I see no harm in exact centering. Sometimes I'd like to use different fonts and effects, but that takes away from the art, which is not only a visual aid, but the topic of discussion itself...
I guess art history is really that unique.
13 September 2011
autumn
Most consider autumn the season of decline...leaves start to turn and fall, grass browns and temperatures drop. Yet for me, autumn, this one in particular, is all about a new start. It's my spring. Instead of lamenting my under-employment, I will be chronicling the whirlwind that is holding two jobs: one in academia and one in the non-profit sector. Right up my alley.
Now, I can't exactly blog about the non-profit...if I choose to identify it, I'd have to follow a law that bans me from "proselytizing" or making political statements. And although I don't consider myself much of an activist, I think I should allow myself the ease of anonymity where that is concerned. Suffice it to say that it's a brand new chapter in the book of me, a challenge that will hopefully develop my management skills and make me irresistible to future employers.
The temperatures are still summer-like...jeez it was hot Monday during the 9/11 Day of Remembrance service project. I prefer cool weather when I can wear scarves and cardigans and other layers. Speaking of scarves, the least complicated issue of the academic job is whether I should go full Manhattan mode with the wardrobe. It's what pops into my head when I think "art history professor," but then again, I'm teaching in Ohio, and I need to be accessible to the students, not aloof. I already feel like the bad guy, expecting them to do incredible things like show up for class. And I'm already on the path of disappointment, heading toward the realization that despite my words and images and best efforts, they won't love art like I do.
When I told the awesome people at the store about the class, they were surprised. "You have a Masters?" "Wait, how old are you?" Seems I can still pass for a teenager in some people's eyes. Well, gone are the days of shop-girl-dom. Now my brain is fighting shifting into overdrive to get into this new mode of employment...a mode which requires and invites me to think. It's what I wanted, but getting what we want can be scary too. Come on, autumn. And bring it on, winter. Except for a lot of snow...a snow day or snow emergency would seriously wreck my course schedule.
Now, I can't exactly blog about the non-profit...if I choose to identify it, I'd have to follow a law that bans me from "proselytizing" or making political statements. And although I don't consider myself much of an activist, I think I should allow myself the ease of anonymity where that is concerned. Suffice it to say that it's a brand new chapter in the book of me, a challenge that will hopefully develop my management skills and make me irresistible to future employers.
The temperatures are still summer-like...jeez it was hot Monday during the 9/11 Day of Remembrance service project. I prefer cool weather when I can wear scarves and cardigans and other layers. Speaking of scarves, the least complicated issue of the academic job is whether I should go full Manhattan mode with the wardrobe. It's what pops into my head when I think "art history professor," but then again, I'm teaching in Ohio, and I need to be accessible to the students, not aloof. I already feel like the bad guy, expecting them to do incredible things like show up for class. And I'm already on the path of disappointment, heading toward the realization that despite my words and images and best efforts, they won't love art like I do.
When I told the awesome people at the store about the class, they were surprised. "You have a Masters?" "Wait, how old are you?" Seems I can still pass for a teenager in some people's eyes. Well, gone are the days of shop-girl-dom. Now my brain is fighting shifting into overdrive to get into this new mode of employment...a mode which requires and invites me to think. It's what I wanted, but getting what we want can be scary too. Come on, autumn. And bring it on, winter. Except for a lot of snow...a snow day or snow emergency would seriously wreck my course schedule.
18 August 2011
shop talk
There are days when I do not get so bitter about working at a department store. Granted, these days are rare. And numbered, since I will be embarking on a more idealist-friendly quest to teach art history at a local university branch and wiggle my way back into the non-profit sector. These are the kinds of things that I find more substantial and beneficial to society than soliciting credit card applications.
Don't get me wrong. A lot of great people work in department stores. The kind of people who make anything and everything a fun experience, make you feel welcome, and have a knack for socializing (that's key to customer service, and the reason I sometimes get frustrated with it). I wanted to rant about somebody who is not one of these fun people, then Sunday happened, and I once again saw the bright side. Even when comparing notes on dealing with less-than-cooperative customers, the fun people really lighten the retail burden. Even when I have not suckered any poor souls into an application, they treat me as one of them and even tell a customer "We're lucky to have her." Now, of course I know that no manager would share their real opinions about an employee to a customer, but I enjoyed the moment (so don't take that from me!)
Now I am trying to squeeze in thinking time for lecture-planning between working hours...I had the hardest time turning my brain off Tuesday night in preparation for a super-early morning. Then, of course, once the monotonous under-employment commenced, I felt acutely less energized and enthusiastic about the future. But I have a few good ideas for alternative learning modes. One is sending the students to local churches to compare what they find with the Italian Baroque. (I have yet to visit some of these churches myself to even determine if there is anything for them to analyze.) And I want to assign some sort of internet activity to engage them long-distance in some of the heavy-hitters of the museum world: the Prado, Musee d'Orsay, even the Vatican.
Before I set anything in stone, though, I need to figure out how to cram four centuries into nine lectures. Yes, Veterans Day will be cheating me out of my ten-week quarter. Compared to nasty shoppers, though, this is a good problem.
I'm trying to take the advice of a museum blog on this site, as well as fulfill that idealist nagging inside of me, to branch out beyond the sorts of jobs you find on an employment website. I'm trying to live spherically, as the phrase from Under the Tuscan Sun goes. I have grand plans to infiltrate a local gallery, perhaps, and volunteer. I'd also love to blog about my non-profit work coming up, but I'm unsure whether that is ethical, considering I also use this thing to rant politically, sometimes. We'll see about that soon. We'll see if I can be the sort of inspiring and "different" teacher that I have in my mind's eye. Wish me luck.
Don't get me wrong. A lot of great people work in department stores. The kind of people who make anything and everything a fun experience, make you feel welcome, and have a knack for socializing (that's key to customer service, and the reason I sometimes get frustrated with it). I wanted to rant about somebody who is not one of these fun people, then Sunday happened, and I once again saw the bright side. Even when comparing notes on dealing with less-than-cooperative customers, the fun people really lighten the retail burden. Even when I have not suckered any poor souls into an application, they treat me as one of them and even tell a customer "We're lucky to have her." Now, of course I know that no manager would share their real opinions about an employee to a customer, but I enjoyed the moment (so don't take that from me!)
Now I am trying to squeeze in thinking time for lecture-planning between working hours...I had the hardest time turning my brain off Tuesday night in preparation for a super-early morning. Then, of course, once the monotonous under-employment commenced, I felt acutely less energized and enthusiastic about the future. But I have a few good ideas for alternative learning modes. One is sending the students to local churches to compare what they find with the Italian Baroque. (I have yet to visit some of these churches myself to even determine if there is anything for them to analyze.) And I want to assign some sort of internet activity to engage them long-distance in some of the heavy-hitters of the museum world: the Prado, Musee d'Orsay, even the Vatican.
Before I set anything in stone, though, I need to figure out how to cram four centuries into nine lectures. Yes, Veterans Day will be cheating me out of my ten-week quarter. Compared to nasty shoppers, though, this is a good problem.
I'm trying to take the advice of a museum blog on this site, as well as fulfill that idealist nagging inside of me, to branch out beyond the sorts of jobs you find on an employment website. I'm trying to live spherically, as the phrase from Under the Tuscan Sun goes. I have grand plans to infiltrate a local gallery, perhaps, and volunteer. I'd also love to blog about my non-profit work coming up, but I'm unsure whether that is ethical, considering I also use this thing to rant politically, sometimes. We'll see about that soon. We'll see if I can be the sort of inspiring and "different" teacher that I have in my mind's eye. Wish me luck.
29 July 2011
formless function follows
I got all excited remembering a Get Fuzzy comic strip that touched upon architecture, yesterday. I had a copy of it printed out and tacked to the outside of my cubicle in Columbus, where it befuddled many an IT guy. Confronted with the drawing of a scraggly cat named Stank Lloyd Wrong (LOL, right?), one guy scratched his head and told me he didn't get it. To which my inner dialogue replied, "Of course you don't."
Now the end to this story is sad...because I can't find that printed copy, and when I found the archives online, it was strangely underwhelming. I don't like it when things that used to amuse me so much are no longer amusing. It makes me feel like I've lost something important.
The amusement can only be momentary, I suppose, when it comes from a cartoon cat shouting "Skidmore, Owings and Merrill!" I thought it was so neat, that a comic about a spoiled cat (my favorite animal) would include architectural tidbits, like an homage to those first quarters at Ohio State. Like the strip was drawn for me.
I don't think that way about anything, not these days. Nothing seems particularly symbolic or mystical, like so many things that made me feel I was in the right place at the right time. I do not feel like I am in the right place. I do not feel like I belong. The loss of seeing signs in everything might be good for me (in the sense that I'm officially not delusional), but it takes a little romance out of living. I guess this is just something else I'll have to "get over." Is that what my life is about now? "Getting over" all the disappointment? I thought that wasn't until I turned at least 40.
Where I am right now, both literally and figuratively, seems to be both the cause and the effect. I couldn't find fabulous work in the arts, so I moved here. Now, because I am here, I most likely will not find fabulous work in the arts.
Some guy in New York once asked me, about growing up on a farm, "Are you proud?" I thought to myself, what a strange question! Unless I, in my socially awkward glory, have once again failed to follow the conversation carefully enough and I just don't get it...but if memory serves, it was a strange thing to ask. I answered, "Yeah, I guess." But if being proud of living on a farm means being satisfied with all the life provides, the answer is no. If being proud of living on a farm means I have to conform to all the rural stereotypes a New Yorker can dream up, the answer is also no.
Just now I used the same sentence structure (or close to it) as Zimbabwean dictator Robert Mugabe, as quoted in the documentary Mugabe and the White African. It makes me a little squeamish, but at least I've not been compared to Hitler.
How's that for stream-of-consciousness writing?
Now the end to this story is sad...because I can't find that printed copy, and when I found the archives online, it was strangely underwhelming. I don't like it when things that used to amuse me so much are no longer amusing. It makes me feel like I've lost something important.
The amusement can only be momentary, I suppose, when it comes from a cartoon cat shouting "Skidmore, Owings and Merrill!" I thought it was so neat, that a comic about a spoiled cat (my favorite animal) would include architectural tidbits, like an homage to those first quarters at Ohio State. Like the strip was drawn for me.
I don't think that way about anything, not these days. Nothing seems particularly symbolic or mystical, like so many things that made me feel I was in the right place at the right time. I do not feel like I am in the right place. I do not feel like I belong. The loss of seeing signs in everything might be good for me (in the sense that I'm officially not delusional), but it takes a little romance out of living. I guess this is just something else I'll have to "get over." Is that what my life is about now? "Getting over" all the disappointment? I thought that wasn't until I turned at least 40.
Where I am right now, both literally and figuratively, seems to be both the cause and the effect. I couldn't find fabulous work in the arts, so I moved here. Now, because I am here, I most likely will not find fabulous work in the arts.
Some guy in New York once asked me, about growing up on a farm, "Are you proud?" I thought to myself, what a strange question! Unless I, in my socially awkward glory, have once again failed to follow the conversation carefully enough and I just don't get it...but if memory serves, it was a strange thing to ask. I answered, "Yeah, I guess." But if being proud of living on a farm means being satisfied with all the life provides, the answer is no. If being proud of living on a farm means I have to conform to all the rural stereotypes a New Yorker can dream up, the answer is also no.
Just now I used the same sentence structure (or close to it) as Zimbabwean dictator Robert Mugabe, as quoted in the documentary Mugabe and the White African. It makes me a little squeamish, but at least I've not been compared to Hitler.
How's that for stream-of-consciousness writing?
25 July 2011
profiting from poverty
For all my ideals, I might not be considered "Liberal" on fiscal issues. Which seems about right to me, since I think I'm a centrist, staring in horrified amazement at the wackos on both sides of the spectrum.
I think it's a step in the right direction to require drug-testing for welfare recipients. And although we already have social workers who look out for the kids, I'm fairly certain that there are parents out there who don't put their checks to good use...you know, food and school supplies and clothing and such. I'm reminded of the film Precious, in which the mother, played to disturbing effect by Mo'Nique, tells Precious to "get down to the welfare" instead of continuing her education. Why shouldn't the government make sure that it's money is being used for good instead of "subsidizing people's addictions." The problem is...basically every state is in a budget crisis (maybe except for the Dakotas?) and drug-testing could cost millions (according to a labor union). Not to mention the pesky 4th Amendment, which prohibits search and seizure without probable cause. Applying for welfare is, as of yet, not probable cause for a drug test. Read more about the issue in this very informative blog here. So I say "right direction," knowing that there are people out there who will do anything for a fix and that the government might not be able to do anything about it.
Here's the issue that hits home for me though: banks have been lacking "confidence" lately, not loaning and guarding their capital like medieval dragons hoarding treasure. The smallest (and in my opinion, most nefarious) result of the nervous bankers is new fees...and old fees. I've been hit lately with a low minimum balance fee. And I was kicked out of the points-earning program. For not earning enough money. And is that really my fault? Many who figure out what I studied and what I want to do with my life would say "yes." To study the arts and be an idealist is to deserve poverty. And the fees that come with it.
As I said before, though, I'm a centrist, so I don't think the government should (or, let's be honest, could) step in and stop the fees. Banks want to make money...and they found a way to do it that relies on widespread unemployment and under-employment. You gotta keep an eye on those trends. Yet from the individual perspective, looking at a depressing bank statement, these fees and restrictions seem to say "you are not worthy of holding a bank account." As a friend of mine said, it's like the banks just want us to bury our cash in a jar.
And maybe that would be best. I've also started a new part-time job lately, and until Direct Deposit goes into effect (perhaps 2 weeks), I'm supposed to use this strange little debit card. I have yet to figure out how to use this card without a fee. There's an ATM fee (three, really, counting international), balance-check fee, heck there's a monthly service charge! Why can't they just mail me or give me a check? I can cash that for free (so far) at my fee-loving bank. My cynicism is whipped into a frenzy solely by the fact that I did not choose to use this card. I did not elect for this third-party company to profit off my measly paycheck. Why are they doing this? Because there are millions of us vulnerable under-employed who need the "convenience" of yet another debit card to use instead of cash.
While we're lamenting the sore lack of money in our accounts, private corporations are seeing nothing but dollar signs. And that thought ruins my afternoon.
I think it's a step in the right direction to require drug-testing for welfare recipients. And although we already have social workers who look out for the kids, I'm fairly certain that there are parents out there who don't put their checks to good use...you know, food and school supplies and clothing and such. I'm reminded of the film Precious, in which the mother, played to disturbing effect by Mo'Nique, tells Precious to "get down to the welfare" instead of continuing her education. Why shouldn't the government make sure that it's money is being used for good instead of "subsidizing people's addictions." The problem is...basically every state is in a budget crisis (maybe except for the Dakotas?) and drug-testing could cost millions (according to a labor union). Not to mention the pesky 4th Amendment, which prohibits search and seizure without probable cause. Applying for welfare is, as of yet, not probable cause for a drug test. Read more about the issue in this very informative blog here. So I say "right direction," knowing that there are people out there who will do anything for a fix and that the government might not be able to do anything about it.
Here's the issue that hits home for me though: banks have been lacking "confidence" lately, not loaning and guarding their capital like medieval dragons hoarding treasure. The smallest (and in my opinion, most nefarious) result of the nervous bankers is new fees...and old fees. I've been hit lately with a low minimum balance fee. And I was kicked out of the points-earning program. For not earning enough money. And is that really my fault? Many who figure out what I studied and what I want to do with my life would say "yes." To study the arts and be an idealist is to deserve poverty. And the fees that come with it.
As I said before, though, I'm a centrist, so I don't think the government should (or, let's be honest, could) step in and stop the fees. Banks want to make money...and they found a way to do it that relies on widespread unemployment and under-employment. You gotta keep an eye on those trends. Yet from the individual perspective, looking at a depressing bank statement, these fees and restrictions seem to say "you are not worthy of holding a bank account." As a friend of mine said, it's like the banks just want us to bury our cash in a jar.
And maybe that would be best. I've also started a new part-time job lately, and until Direct Deposit goes into effect (perhaps 2 weeks), I'm supposed to use this strange little debit card. I have yet to figure out how to use this card without a fee. There's an ATM fee (three, really, counting international), balance-check fee, heck there's a monthly service charge! Why can't they just mail me or give me a check? I can cash that for free (so far) at my fee-loving bank. My cynicism is whipped into a frenzy solely by the fact that I did not choose to use this card. I did not elect for this third-party company to profit off my measly paycheck. Why are they doing this? Because there are millions of us vulnerable under-employed who need the "convenience" of yet another debit card to use instead of cash.
While we're lamenting the sore lack of money in our accounts, private corporations are seeing nothing but dollar signs. And that thought ruins my afternoon.
18 July 2011
selling oneself, again
While I feel an unfamiliar sense of relief for actually having an interview today, I am a little ambivalent. Because I know that a job won't solve all my problems. But it would solve quite a few, if I am hired. Aside from the need for consistent and meaningful employment, I felt it was a pleasant conversation. People put a lot of stock in stuffy professionalism, but in my humble and socially awkward opinion, a conversation is preferable to an interrogation.
I did have to answer the strength and weakness question, but I did what I usually do...I was honest. I wasn't out to "sell" myself in the sense of trumping myself up and making me look better than reality. Some might say I shot myself in the foot with that. We'll see.
The best part about this morning was that the two ladies with whom I was conversing really seemed to understand me. No blank stares a la store manager from yesterday. One even told me I should be a writer because of how I answered the application questions. I better be good at it by now...I've been writing a lot of cover letters and such lately. Maybe I should try to make money blogging! She said she understood my "heart," which is good. The job is in a non-profit, working with people. That's all I'll say so as not to jinx anything.
Honesty and a willingness to help people. Is that not rare these days? Or am I falling into the "sell myself" trap and latching on to a trait that I think could be marketable? I have no idea, not yet...but I do know that helping people whether in the arts, education or another type of service feels a whole lot better than soliciting store credit card applications. Asking people to add a credit card to their wallet seems like part of the problem, not the solution. Yes, you save a certain percentage that day--and every month onward, if you really want to buy that often--but many people are concerned about their credit scores, identity theft and the temptation to spend more than you have earned just yet.
I'd rather help than hinder. Not all customers are jerks who didn't pay attention in math class. The one extreme example I have is a lady who declined to apply for credit, then got a little annoyed when I continued to converse with her about non-credit things. It takes a lot of effort for me to talk to people in a comfortable manner...part of me still thinks I'd better keep my mouth shut. But I thought I might make her day by treating her like a person. Problem was, she had problems weighing on her mind, and blurted out "I'm homeless if you must know, and my husband is in jail for murder." I told her she didn't have to tell me that as I handed over her change. I'm not sorry for speaking to her (it's part of my job) but it was not my intention to make her feel bad about her situation. She's the sort of person whom I might help in the new job. Maybe in that context I'd win her over. But some people do have chips on their shoulder, and I blame society and all its pressures for that.
Yesterday my dad told me I wasn't really part of the workforce. Because of my liberal arts degree. He said I "took it the wrong way" but how else should I take it when my father calls my chosen pursuit a "problem"? He assures me I'll get a museum job when the economy gets better. So for the moment I need to starve? I do hope that teaching this fall doesn't disqualify me from the non-profit job...I told them this morning--and I think they feel me on this--that I want to keep at least a toe in the arts. A whole foot, really. I refuse to sell my soul.
I did have to answer the strength and weakness question, but I did what I usually do...I was honest. I wasn't out to "sell" myself in the sense of trumping myself up and making me look better than reality. Some might say I shot myself in the foot with that. We'll see.
The best part about this morning was that the two ladies with whom I was conversing really seemed to understand me. No blank stares a la store manager from yesterday. One even told me I should be a writer because of how I answered the application questions. I better be good at it by now...I've been writing a lot of cover letters and such lately. Maybe I should try to make money blogging! She said she understood my "heart," which is good. The job is in a non-profit, working with people. That's all I'll say so as not to jinx anything.
Honesty and a willingness to help people. Is that not rare these days? Or am I falling into the "sell myself" trap and latching on to a trait that I think could be marketable? I have no idea, not yet...but I do know that helping people whether in the arts, education or another type of service feels a whole lot better than soliciting store credit card applications. Asking people to add a credit card to their wallet seems like part of the problem, not the solution. Yes, you save a certain percentage that day--and every month onward, if you really want to buy that often--but many people are concerned about their credit scores, identity theft and the temptation to spend more than you have earned just yet.
I'd rather help than hinder. Not all customers are jerks who didn't pay attention in math class. The one extreme example I have is a lady who declined to apply for credit, then got a little annoyed when I continued to converse with her about non-credit things. It takes a lot of effort for me to talk to people in a comfortable manner...part of me still thinks I'd better keep my mouth shut. But I thought I might make her day by treating her like a person. Problem was, she had problems weighing on her mind, and blurted out "I'm homeless if you must know, and my husband is in jail for murder." I told her she didn't have to tell me that as I handed over her change. I'm not sorry for speaking to her (it's part of my job) but it was not my intention to make her feel bad about her situation. She's the sort of person whom I might help in the new job. Maybe in that context I'd win her over. But some people do have chips on their shoulder, and I blame society and all its pressures for that.
Yesterday my dad told me I wasn't really part of the workforce. Because of my liberal arts degree. He said I "took it the wrong way" but how else should I take it when my father calls my chosen pursuit a "problem"? He assures me I'll get a museum job when the economy gets better. So for the moment I need to starve? I do hope that teaching this fall doesn't disqualify me from the non-profit job...I told them this morning--and I think they feel me on this--that I want to keep at least a toe in the arts. A whole foot, really. I refuse to sell my soul.
13 July 2011
I'm not a grown-up because I don't have a 401k
Originally I had planned a rant about HGTV, but after talking about it a little, the rant energy kinda fizzled. It is somewhat relevant to my new train of thought, though. In the sense that I am also bitter that I am not currently in the market for a vacation home in Costa Rica.
I've been hiding from a lot of social situations lately, all to avoid talking about my life. I fear that people I know will make something of the fact that I haven't achieved what many other women my age have already got: marriage, house, children, SUV...retirement plans. It's one thing for my then-8 year old niece to proclaim that I am not a grown-up because I am not married. It's another for one of my peers to think that. And, worst of all, say it.
The problem is, I can't control what people think. I'm again reminded of a book character. I know, it's becoming a theme that will probably not yield any good insight, but this is what I do to escape the despair of underemployment. I read a lot. In the WoT books, especially early on, Perrin always pondered how people saw him as slow-witted. He was deliberate, choosing words carefully, not speaking until he thought it through. Perrin isn't sophisticated, but he turns out to be a hero.
Sometimes I feel like Perrin, not a hero, but judged unfairly because I act differently. A lady once "caught" me drawing on a chalkboard at Sunday School and whispered to my mother "she's always drawing." The horror. Now, I could be misinterpreting, but...should I have been doing something else? Then there were the teachers concerned about my reticence. Did they really want me to talk in class? Say anything without thinking about it?
Maybe half the time, I am deliberately silent, simply because I prefer to think, mull things over and observe instead of blurting things out. The other half, well, I guess I really have been slow-witted...it's like, the conversation and my inner dialogue have become misaligned. It can happen at the most inopportune moments, such as speaking another language or trying to discuss something in architecture studio. Where I lose control is that split second when I decide whether to pause and ask for clarification, or simply shut down.
My biggest disappointment about adulthood is that I still get embarrassed. It's just no longer about jeans. I can't tell whether fear of embarrassment leads to a "misalignment" or if it's the other way around. Being older, I feel I should have some measure of control, like I should be able to prove that I am not unintelligent or incapable or any negative term someone might apply. But why would I bother trying to prove it? I can't sway your opinion if you're using a completely different set of criteria. I say adulthood is a state of mind, you say it's a healthy bottom line. Your idea of intelligence is always having something to say, well...
On My So-Called Life, Angela mused about having a button she could push to make her stop talking. Well, I sort of have one of those, and it's overused. I guess that makes me appear slow-witted. I myself feel worse when I don't push the button. But I perceive the judgment of others when I do. Quiet gives me time to reboot and catch up, if I can.
Isn't it more adult to share a well-thought idea than to spew whatever pops into my head? Or is quantity really better than quality?
Once again, I'm confronted with the realization that grown-ups aren't who I thought they were. And this isn't counting the wackos and criminals out there. I'm talking about average Americans who are just trying to make a living. We're too often distracted by whomever talks the loudest or has the most provocative factoid. Take education, or unemployment...do statistics really matter? This percentage of children might have passed some state test, but did they really learn? That many thousands of people might have been hired this month, but are they getting good hours and earning good money? How often do we blurt things out just to have something to say? I wouldn't mind if CNN went silent for an hour or two just to let things happen and think about them. That makes me sound weird, doesn't it?
I've been hiding from a lot of social situations lately, all to avoid talking about my life. I fear that people I know will make something of the fact that I haven't achieved what many other women my age have already got: marriage, house, children, SUV...retirement plans. It's one thing for my then-8 year old niece to proclaim that I am not a grown-up because I am not married. It's another for one of my peers to think that. And, worst of all, say it.
The problem is, I can't control what people think. I'm again reminded of a book character. I know, it's becoming a theme that will probably not yield any good insight, but this is what I do to escape the despair of underemployment. I read a lot. In the WoT books, especially early on, Perrin always pondered how people saw him as slow-witted. He was deliberate, choosing words carefully, not speaking until he thought it through. Perrin isn't sophisticated, but he turns out to be a hero.
Sometimes I feel like Perrin, not a hero, but judged unfairly because I act differently. A lady once "caught" me drawing on a chalkboard at Sunday School and whispered to my mother "she's always drawing." The horror. Now, I could be misinterpreting, but...should I have been doing something else? Then there were the teachers concerned about my reticence. Did they really want me to talk in class? Say anything without thinking about it?
Maybe half the time, I am deliberately silent, simply because I prefer to think, mull things over and observe instead of blurting things out. The other half, well, I guess I really have been slow-witted...it's like, the conversation and my inner dialogue have become misaligned. It can happen at the most inopportune moments, such as speaking another language or trying to discuss something in architecture studio. Where I lose control is that split second when I decide whether to pause and ask for clarification, or simply shut down.
My biggest disappointment about adulthood is that I still get embarrassed. It's just no longer about jeans. I can't tell whether fear of embarrassment leads to a "misalignment" or if it's the other way around. Being older, I feel I should have some measure of control, like I should be able to prove that I am not unintelligent or incapable or any negative term someone might apply. But why would I bother trying to prove it? I can't sway your opinion if you're using a completely different set of criteria. I say adulthood is a state of mind, you say it's a healthy bottom line. Your idea of intelligence is always having something to say, well...
On My So-Called Life, Angela mused about having a button she could push to make her stop talking. Well, I sort of have one of those, and it's overused. I guess that makes me appear slow-witted. I myself feel worse when I don't push the button. But I perceive the judgment of others when I do. Quiet gives me time to reboot and catch up, if I can.
Isn't it more adult to share a well-thought idea than to spew whatever pops into my head? Or is quantity really better than quality?
Once again, I'm confronted with the realization that grown-ups aren't who I thought they were. And this isn't counting the wackos and criminals out there. I'm talking about average Americans who are just trying to make a living. We're too often distracted by whomever talks the loudest or has the most provocative factoid. Take education, or unemployment...do statistics really matter? This percentage of children might have passed some state test, but did they really learn? That many thousands of people might have been hired this month, but are they getting good hours and earning good money? How often do we blurt things out just to have something to say? I wouldn't mind if CNN went silent for an hour or two just to let things happen and think about them. That makes me sound weird, doesn't it?
29 June 2011
fiction/non-fiction
I've been thinking about The Wheel of Time series lately...not only because I read it to escape other, less constructive thought patterns, but also because it strikes such real, human notes. At least for me. It's a fantasy series, with wizards and princes and queens and monsters, yet it is so vast (13 books with the final book on the way). The characters are so deeply developed, that I cannot help but compare myself to them. And, as you might expect, I find myself terribly lacking. I'm not out saving the world with my inherent magical powers, you know.
You'd think that after all these years of writing essays about paintings and sculptures and monuments, I would have some skill in (at the very least) making others see what I see in a given work of art. Technically I should also be able to convince you to agree with me that that is what said work is all about. These days, though, I don't feel very skilled. So I imagine that this is once again a collection of nonsensical typing.
I've been really annoyed with the main characters lately. Not because of the plot, or where it has taken them (it's all fantastic), but because they're young, powerful and innately good at what they do. Granted, it's easy to write a character with all the right specifications. This one learns how to be a leader in mere months, finding just the right mentor and just the right situations. That one is gifted with extra knowledge and just happens to influence thousands of people in a positive way. And supposedly they're all around 20 or 21 years old. Bastards.
Now, not every single character gets it right. There are plenty of fools, idiots that set back grand plans to defeat evil once and for all. And there are the nameless, the extras, that fill in this world that popped out of Robert Jordan's head. The extras are of course a mixture of good, bad and ugly. The main characters see them as subjects, people to be helped and fought for. They aren't doing their own fighting. Sometimes they have names, sometimes they do not. Some of them join the cause, elevated to major status because of (once again) some talent they were born with.
This whole world revolves around a Pattern, fate if you will...the classic struggle of heroes: to fulfill their destiny or to achieve what they really want. I myself don't see much fate at work in the real world. But wouldn't it be nice to believe that I am who I am and where I am for some great purpose? Automatically I place myself as an equal to the main characters and all their power. Isn't that arrogant of me, now? Naturally, they are the most developed characters, and I identify with certain traits, but...In reality, I don't feel as powerful. I don't feel I have any inborn talents, no skills honed while struggling to survive. And I definitely don't feel I am rising to any great station in life. I sometimes wonder if I missed something at the two universities I attended...was I supposed to obtain some sort of "power" there? Did I miss what fate intended?
I guess the question that this all boils down to--with the potential answer that taunts me--is this: If the real world were an epic novel, would I be one of the nameless throng or a main character?
You'd think that after all these years of writing essays about paintings and sculptures and monuments, I would have some skill in (at the very least) making others see what I see in a given work of art. Technically I should also be able to convince you to agree with me that that is what said work is all about. These days, though, I don't feel very skilled. So I imagine that this is once again a collection of nonsensical typing.
I've been really annoyed with the main characters lately. Not because of the plot, or where it has taken them (it's all fantastic), but because they're young, powerful and innately good at what they do. Granted, it's easy to write a character with all the right specifications. This one learns how to be a leader in mere months, finding just the right mentor and just the right situations. That one is gifted with extra knowledge and just happens to influence thousands of people in a positive way. And supposedly they're all around 20 or 21 years old. Bastards.
Now, not every single character gets it right. There are plenty of fools, idiots that set back grand plans to defeat evil once and for all. And there are the nameless, the extras, that fill in this world that popped out of Robert Jordan's head. The extras are of course a mixture of good, bad and ugly. The main characters see them as subjects, people to be helped and fought for. They aren't doing their own fighting. Sometimes they have names, sometimes they do not. Some of them join the cause, elevated to major status because of (once again) some talent they were born with.
This whole world revolves around a Pattern, fate if you will...the classic struggle of heroes: to fulfill their destiny or to achieve what they really want. I myself don't see much fate at work in the real world. But wouldn't it be nice to believe that I am who I am and where I am for some great purpose? Automatically I place myself as an equal to the main characters and all their power. Isn't that arrogant of me, now? Naturally, they are the most developed characters, and I identify with certain traits, but...In reality, I don't feel as powerful. I don't feel I have any inborn talents, no skills honed while struggling to survive. And I definitely don't feel I am rising to any great station in life. I sometimes wonder if I missed something at the two universities I attended...was I supposed to obtain some sort of "power" there? Did I miss what fate intended?
I guess the question that this all boils down to--with the potential answer that taunts me--is this: If the real world were an epic novel, would I be one of the nameless throng or a main character?
25 May 2011
potential
I could probably come up with an exhaustive list of all the reasons our civilization is screwed. The list would involve several issues like our general disregard for the poor or our inability to be cooperative and constructive in politics. And our lack of critical thinking skills, which I know I have already typed a little about. Another thing is potential, and how we are squandering that potential.
Of course, potential is typically something judged on an individual basis. I was always told I had a lot of potential in school. Meaning I tested well and knew how to get straight A's. Employers might see potential in a worker based on quality of work and attendance, not to mention attitude. But what about potential on a more general, human level? Think in terms of Jefferson's "pursuit of happiness" line. From birth, I presume, each American individual has the potential to be somebody and achieve that "American Dream." Used to be that this was accomplished through college, but we all know my stance on that. Who judges this more universal potential? Any politician who wants your vote will assure you that Americans are the best. Implying that you are the best. And if you aren't in a good place right now, like many of us, that also implies the potential to get a slice of the pie, and the politician's pledge to help you.
But from the point of view of a lowly substitute teacher and shop girl, that's all bullshit. How can American potential be so great if so many children are illiterate and not getting the attention they need from teachers and parents? How can it be so great if so many adults, for that matter, are practically illiterate and incapable of really thinking?
Here's an example from the store: the average American consumer doesn't consider mathematics when shopping...they just want to get that "deal" which of course could not possibly involve arithmetic. What happens when the old rule "The customer is always right?" meets math? Math wins. At least when I'm at the register. Just so you know, a percentage discount on a total is equal to the sum of the same percentage discounts on the individual items. Someone actually tried to argue against this. Math is pretty much absolute unless you're getting into more abstract theory. It's non-negotiable. Why would somebody argue? Simple, we all want a discount because we believe we deserve it. I call this the "cheap factor," of which most Americans have fallen victim.
I wonder how many aggravating situations are rooted in our inability and/or unwillingness to remember lessons from elementary school. No, the store is not screwing you over, but you are screwed regardless...because you failed to think.
Of course, potential is typically something judged on an individual basis. I was always told I had a lot of potential in school. Meaning I tested well and knew how to get straight A's. Employers might see potential in a worker based on quality of work and attendance, not to mention attitude. But what about potential on a more general, human level? Think in terms of Jefferson's "pursuit of happiness" line. From birth, I presume, each American individual has the potential to be somebody and achieve that "American Dream." Used to be that this was accomplished through college, but we all know my stance on that. Who judges this more universal potential? Any politician who wants your vote will assure you that Americans are the best. Implying that you are the best. And if you aren't in a good place right now, like many of us, that also implies the potential to get a slice of the pie, and the politician's pledge to help you.
But from the point of view of a lowly substitute teacher and shop girl, that's all bullshit. How can American potential be so great if so many children are illiterate and not getting the attention they need from teachers and parents? How can it be so great if so many adults, for that matter, are practically illiterate and incapable of really thinking?
Here's an example from the store: the average American consumer doesn't consider mathematics when shopping...they just want to get that "deal" which of course could not possibly involve arithmetic. What happens when the old rule "The customer is always right?" meets math? Math wins. At least when I'm at the register. Just so you know, a percentage discount on a total is equal to the sum of the same percentage discounts on the individual items. Someone actually tried to argue against this. Math is pretty much absolute unless you're getting into more abstract theory. It's non-negotiable. Why would somebody argue? Simple, we all want a discount because we believe we deserve it. I call this the "cheap factor," of which most Americans have fallen victim.
I wonder how many aggravating situations are rooted in our inability and/or unwillingness to remember lessons from elementary school. No, the store is not screwing you over, but you are screwed regardless...because you failed to think.
17 May 2011
this is what I get for not writing during gorgeous weather
If this entry were from last week, it would be incredibly upbeat and optimistic. Not so, today. It's a sad, rainy Tuesday, and there are a couple indications that I won't get exactly what I want. I want employment, meaningful employment, and I have no definitive answers. Well, except the potential teaching job. But with my track record, even that could go haywire.
If all goes to plan, I'll be teaching the Baroque to Contemporary art history survey at OUZ. Which sounds awesome. And scary. Especially if I wind up in the auditorium. What if I bore the students to death? What if they can't comprehend me? It wouldn't be the first time...it often seems that I'm speaking gibberish to people. So that's one thing. In September. But what about in between?
I just can't revel in the good things, like completing the horrid thesis or being done with the Heifer event. I find not the silver lining but the dark spots. Like...what if my grades aren't updated in time to reflect my graduation on my transcript? I bet everyone at the graduation party was wondering who that loser Deborah is on the list and why she isn't there. I do wish I could have been there. I don't feel like a Master now. No more than before. And really...none of the good things in the past month keep me out of debt. My life is all about a paycheck now. So much for idealism.
On the bright side--well, less dark side--I got to watch the pilot of Lost on my computer while trying to email a potential employer and submitting yet another resume. Fingers crossed for at least some form of acknowledgement. It'll need to get a whole lot more gloomy for me to think that I shouldn't keep looking for that arts job that's out there for me, somewhere...
If all goes to plan, I'll be teaching the Baroque to Contemporary art history survey at OUZ. Which sounds awesome. And scary. Especially if I wind up in the auditorium. What if I bore the students to death? What if they can't comprehend me? It wouldn't be the first time...it often seems that I'm speaking gibberish to people. So that's one thing. In September. But what about in between?
I just can't revel in the good things, like completing the horrid thesis or being done with the Heifer event. I find not the silver lining but the dark spots. Like...what if my grades aren't updated in time to reflect my graduation on my transcript? I bet everyone at the graduation party was wondering who that loser Deborah is on the list and why she isn't there. I do wish I could have been there. I don't feel like a Master now. No more than before. And really...none of the good things in the past month keep me out of debt. My life is all about a paycheck now. So much for idealism.
On the bright side--well, less dark side--I got to watch the pilot of Lost on my computer while trying to email a potential employer and submitting yet another resume. Fingers crossed for at least some form of acknowledgement. It'll need to get a whole lot more gloomy for me to think that I shouldn't keep looking for that arts job that's out there for me, somewhere...
04 April 2011
church lady
I haven't written much about church or religion. It's never really seemed to matter much to me except on a purely aesthetic level. Art history offers such an understanding of church culture and history that going on Sunday, especially to an austere Presbyterian church, seemed an afterthought. To some I am a heathen, to others I am the status quo, an academic non-observer. But now it's out...right on my Facebook...the inexplicable association with organized religion.
Back before I somehow chose art history as a focus, the church was yet another public forum in which to embarrass myself, much like high school. Christmas pageants and talent shows galore. Nowadays, I've been avoiding church in order to avoid answering the "What are you doing these days?" or "Found a job yet?" questions.
But I'm also planning a fundraiser for Heifer International, which requires reaching out to congregation members and being a general busy-body. I think I can make the event a lot of fun, something different than an empty envelope in the bulletin.
The one snag is how much of my own money to spend. Because there isn't much of it. Well, there are other, potential snags...I'm wondering if my volunteers thus far really understand what the event is (how many different ways could I put it?) and whether they realize this will take their time and perhaps even their money. I know I shouldn't assume, but to say these things to their faces seems rather blunt. For some people, "volunteer" could mean just show up. In this case, just showing up ain't gonna cut it. And what if nobody comes to donate?
I have to admit that this Heifer event will be--for me--less about religion and more about flexing my administrative muscles for a good cause. Helping people is not a purely Christian concept, yet the church has always been a fitting frame for these sorts of missions. Heifer also happens to be the project my mother often headed in the past. Unfortunately for me, this time it will take more than a cow-shaped stamp to pull it off.
Back before I somehow chose art history as a focus, the church was yet another public forum in which to embarrass myself, much like high school. Christmas pageants and talent shows galore. Nowadays, I've been avoiding church in order to avoid answering the "What are you doing these days?" or "Found a job yet?" questions.
But I'm also planning a fundraiser for Heifer International, which requires reaching out to congregation members and being a general busy-body. I think I can make the event a lot of fun, something different than an empty envelope in the bulletin.
The one snag is how much of my own money to spend. Because there isn't much of it. Well, there are other, potential snags...I'm wondering if my volunteers thus far really understand what the event is (how many different ways could I put it?) and whether they realize this will take their time and perhaps even their money. I know I shouldn't assume, but to say these things to their faces seems rather blunt. For some people, "volunteer" could mean just show up. In this case, just showing up ain't gonna cut it. And what if nobody comes to donate?
I have to admit that this Heifer event will be--for me--less about religion and more about flexing my administrative muscles for a good cause. Helping people is not a purely Christian concept, yet the church has always been a fitting frame for these sorts of missions. Heifer also happens to be the project my mother often headed in the past. Unfortunately for me, this time it will take more than a cow-shaped stamp to pull it off.
17 March 2011
When it rains, it pours...
At first I found it quite infuriating that after two years of looking for permanent employment, I'm stuck in a frightful limbo with two very different jobs set before me. But then I reminded myself that this is just the annoying problem that I have been waiting for. Just to have somebody put my resume in the "call" pile instead of the recycling bin was joyful enough.
So I'm making the final heroic push to finish my paper and redeem myself this spring. I know I should stop talking about it this way, but I really feel like a prodigal scholar...and maybe I don't deserve a second chance. I'll never know why so many of my resumes were tossed; it could be the leave of absence, or it could be something else entirely. I'm constantly reflecting on that last year at Columbia, and wishing I could have performed better and reacted differently to the challenges I was facing.
In hindsight, I wish that I could have dealt better with my mother's death and focused my energy on success. It seems to me that I was on the right track, doing what felt right instead of what was always expected. I wish I still had the guts that allowed me to pick up and move to New York. But I haven't shown any guts for a while now. Moving back to Ohio was like doing the expected. Would I have suffered if I continued in NYC? Most likely. But who can say whether the suffering would have been better or worse than the stagnation I experienced on the farm?
If you boiled down the choices before me right now, you'd see an epic struggle between idealism and reality. Arts or business? And I use "business" instead of money because at this point (don't jinx it) there is an arts opportunity that is actually offering a salary. So do I continue the struggle to make a career in the art world and field disparaging comments and questions from my family? Or do I suck it up and strike out on a new path paved with business attire and sales pitches? It wouldn't necessarily be a deal with the devil...I could do a lot of good with the money. And I wouldn't be cut off from the arts. They would, however, become my hobby, not my life.
Why does the "new normal" of our society/economy seem so hostile toward the University of Trial & Error? I remember interviewing an artist at Winter Fair for HS art class, and that was the school name she gave. It was humorous, honest and inspiring. That life path doesn't seem to be available to me, though.
On the other hand, maybe I'm already enrolled at Trial & Error. Maybe the next trial is to test out the business waters. Those of my friends who have posted on my facebook would disagree. I'm still young. And my two-year-old paper isn't half bad. So I must have some brains left inside my skull.
At this particular moment, I'm weighing and measuring...and hoping I haven't already blown it with the arts side of things. Voicemail is not my strong suit, and the cellular signal was no help either, but I do hope I can speak with my potential arts employer this week. I'll make sure she knows I'm enthusiastic and capable and worthy.
28 February 2011
celebrity is as celebrity does
I watched the majority of the Oscars last night because I've fallen in love with a film I actually have yet to see: The King's Speech. I love Colin Firth. I love Helena Bonham Carter. I love Geoffrey Rush. Put them all together? Yes, please. I wanted to make sure they won as much as possible, so I stayed up. (I ended up getting even less sleep than planned due to thunderstorms and my well-meaning but incompetent cat who just cannot kill mice. Is there anything more silly or surreal than chasing a rodent around the house at midnight?)
With all these stars of the screen winning awards and praising each other, I thought about why I cared at all. It's not like Colin is my best friend, but I wanted him to win. Even if I met him, I'd be one of thousands-perhaps millions-of fans. What is a fan? Not a friend, not even an acquaintance.
It seems to me that the internet and its children, social networking and MMORPG, get unfairly pinned with the de-socialization of our society. I would argue that with the worship and affinity for celebrities, we've been having fictitious relationships for quite some time now via television and magazines. On that note, I remember reading about adolescent girls and their teenage heartthrobs; the point was simply this, too much attention paid to Leo DiCaprio distracts a girl from the real, in-the-flesh boys her own age. She risks missing that opportunity to socialize and learn and experience something far better than kissing a poster. I can't remember where I read this though. Maybe Seventeen? Well, maybe not...magazines like that were built on celebrity crushes, so why would they publish a statement of that sort?
Perhaps my own affection for celebrity stems from a need to get back into the thick of "it," in New York or any other city. (Just get me out of the country, please!) I did spot the occasional famous face in Manhattan, which gave me this oddly satisfying thought "They are real!" But so is my boyfriend, and my family. They're real too...more real to me than any face on a screen.
With all these stars of the screen winning awards and praising each other, I thought about why I cared at all. It's not like Colin is my best friend, but I wanted him to win. Even if I met him, I'd be one of thousands-perhaps millions-of fans. What is a fan? Not a friend, not even an acquaintance.
It seems to me that the internet and its children, social networking and MMORPG, get unfairly pinned with the de-socialization of our society. I would argue that with the worship and affinity for celebrities, we've been having fictitious relationships for quite some time now via television and magazines. On that note, I remember reading about adolescent girls and their teenage heartthrobs; the point was simply this, too much attention paid to Leo DiCaprio distracts a girl from the real, in-the-flesh boys her own age. She risks missing that opportunity to socialize and learn and experience something far better than kissing a poster. I can't remember where I read this though. Maybe Seventeen? Well, maybe not...magazines like that were built on celebrity crushes, so why would they publish a statement of that sort?
Perhaps my own affection for celebrity stems from a need to get back into the thick of "it," in New York or any other city. (Just get me out of the country, please!) I did spot the occasional famous face in Manhattan, which gave me this oddly satisfying thought "They are real!" But so is my boyfriend, and my family. They're real too...more real to me than any face on a screen.
meditations on a career fair
These are the misadventures of a liberal arts girl in the heartland of the vocational and financial...
I suppose I should lay out the preconceived notions and fears I had prior to this little venture. I have never before visited a career fair. Which seems odd, given there were plenty at Ohio State. Again my fatal flaw of rolling the dice and going on my own. So I wondered what it would mean for me, especially after so much artsy schooling, to visit with hiring staff from insurance companies, financial institutions and corporations. Would I be laughed out of the room? My resume is tailored to catch the museum eye...and I might just get confirmation that I've lost all ability to impress. I might get confirmation that my resume is crap. I might be the only Gen Y in the room (pretty darn close, it turns out), and I might not look good enough.
I wondered who goes to these sorts of things? I was a little surprised to feel some shame. Like the unemployed and under-employed are vocational lepers. I never imagined myself in this position of helplessness. And I never wanted evidence that it is of my own doing flung in my face. Even though I have never attained any semblance of status, I felt the absence of it. Very strange.
Now this fair was a lot smaller than those I had seen on the news. Maybe around a dozen tables. Of course, more could have come after I left. I was yet again reminded of the specter of education...or rather, re-education...by the presence of three career colleges. And I call them that to differentiate from the 4-year liberal arts system that seems to be so demonized these days. Like people who study history and art don't want careers? Sheesh. They're running a pretty nice racket, getting people to go back to school for every little change in their career path. I guess I'm an oddball for thinking enough is enough when it comes to student debt. So I was a fish out of water. But I had my spiel: branching out to the private sector, offering my administrative and organizational and computer skills. I even have some sales and customer service under my belt.
So why deny me "entry" (in the figurative sense) to this world of "career"?
Nobody actually flinched when I said "art" or "non-profit." Good sign. One lady seemed to deem all my experience in museums collectively as an internship. Like I had no valuable training from those years. Bad sign. This I find interesting, and I would have to go to many more fairs to say anything definitive, but the woman was far less receptive to me than men at other tables. Curious.
What I got out of this was some confirmation of my previous employment lamentations: 1. Every HR person has his/her own prejudices, and you cannot please everyone (without lying), 2. I will never rid myself of my prejudice against financial institutions even if I work for one and drive myself slowly insane, and 3. I just cannot seem to get along with middle-aged women.
22 February 2011
Aren't we all hard-working Americans?
All right, I suppose I understand that all government expenditures are under a harsh lens these days...but can Congress really shut down PBS and NPR? I've heard that NPR's income, though partly Federal funding, is largely from private donations. You know, their tag line is "this program was made possible by viewers like you." That counts as acknowledging taxpayers as much as donors, in my view.
I'm really concerned that institutions like these as well as museums and non-profits are the first on the chopping block. Isn't there a number out there circulating that such funding makes up maybe 10% of the Federal budget? And then there's teachers, who, unlike Saturday-night babysitters, earn on average $1.24 per child per hour. And these are the first cuts? Sheesh.
I should know by now that not everyone has the same priorities as I do. And not everyone thinks of the world in the same way. I quickly learned that "grown-ups" don't always get it right. I find it really sad that I have to be surrounded by like-minded "young people" to be taken seriously. Even then, I'm not sure I wow people the way I used to. I may have little tidbits of prestige on the resume, but for some, even Columbia doesn't impress. In terms of art history, it should be hallowed for Meyer Shapiro, who earned the first doctorate in the field. Some just shrug it off. (One in particular I am pretty sure was just trying to sleight me...and it worked)
None of this is really connected, unless you count the issue of prestige when deciding which jobs count and which do not. Teachers should be pretigious, as well as other "cultural workers" out there in libraries and museums that make the world a little less stark. Even though it isn't only good old boys now, it seems there is still a secret kabal of good old boys and girls that won't let me in. Not that I want in. I just want to make a career and a living without fearfully wondering if the majority of Americans think my career choices are worthless.
Without even having a "first career" unless you count internships and temporary posts, I seem to have been redirected like so many other Americans...but without decades of income behind me. I feel like I'm in limbo. Maybe I'm being directed to less of an arts-themed career and more of a service one (although I still don't see much difference...), and my latest attempt to organize a Heifer Project event is a sign pointing in that direction. I'll serve...but I can't volunteer for the rest of my life. And apparently I'm too educated to be a shop girl. Dang it.
I'm really concerned that institutions like these as well as museums and non-profits are the first on the chopping block. Isn't there a number out there circulating that such funding makes up maybe 10% of the Federal budget? And then there's teachers, who, unlike Saturday-night babysitters, earn on average $1.24 per child per hour. And these are the first cuts? Sheesh.
I should know by now that not everyone has the same priorities as I do. And not everyone thinks of the world in the same way. I quickly learned that "grown-ups" don't always get it right. I find it really sad that I have to be surrounded by like-minded "young people" to be taken seriously. Even then, I'm not sure I wow people the way I used to. I may have little tidbits of prestige on the resume, but for some, even Columbia doesn't impress. In terms of art history, it should be hallowed for Meyer Shapiro, who earned the first doctorate in the field. Some just shrug it off. (One in particular I am pretty sure was just trying to sleight me...and it worked)
None of this is really connected, unless you count the issue of prestige when deciding which jobs count and which do not. Teachers should be pretigious, as well as other "cultural workers" out there in libraries and museums that make the world a little less stark. Even though it isn't only good old boys now, it seems there is still a secret kabal of good old boys and girls that won't let me in. Not that I want in. I just want to make a career and a living without fearfully wondering if the majority of Americans think my career choices are worthless.
Without even having a "first career" unless you count internships and temporary posts, I seem to have been redirected like so many other Americans...but without decades of income behind me. I feel like I'm in limbo. Maybe I'm being directed to less of an arts-themed career and more of a service one (although I still don't see much difference...), and my latest attempt to organize a Heifer Project event is a sign pointing in that direction. I'll serve...but I can't volunteer for the rest of my life. And apparently I'm too educated to be a shop girl. Dang it.
24 January 2011
what is merit? or, how I would like to bitch slap my high school guidance counselor
So I had a random memory today of my physical therapist, Vitaly. During the usual chitchat that I assume was supposed to distract me from the painful and tiring processes, he told me that a lot of younger trainers and therapists were getting not only Masters degrees but also Doctorates. And those with the most schooling, no matter how green, were favored for employment. Over those with more experience, yet "lower" degrees due to the fact that a Doctorate didn't exist when they were in school.
Well, if only it worked that way for me. I'd like somebody, just one employer, to overlook a few things in favor of arbitrary information.
How am I supposed to keep up with all of these HR prejudices that seem to contradict one another? They want good schools, but also lots of experience. They want responsible employees, but shy away from advanced degrees. It all seems designed to force me to lie, and that's something I really don't want to do. I don't want to pretend I already live in Philadelphia, or that I didn't go to graduate school.
Of course I'm assuming that the people with whom I am competing are playing fair. And I have a sneaking suspicion that they aren't. To fail and preserve my character, or to win by selling my soul? That is the question.
I know for sure by now that all my "hard work" in grade school means bupkis. Not even the whole "it shows you can start something and complete it" bit doesn't satisfy me. So the existential crisis continues for a third year...what is this life about?
Well, if only it worked that way for me. I'd like somebody, just one employer, to overlook a few things in favor of arbitrary information.
How am I supposed to keep up with all of these HR prejudices that seem to contradict one another? They want good schools, but also lots of experience. They want responsible employees, but shy away from advanced degrees. It all seems designed to force me to lie, and that's something I really don't want to do. I don't want to pretend I already live in Philadelphia, or that I didn't go to graduate school.
Of course I'm assuming that the people with whom I am competing are playing fair. And I have a sneaking suspicion that they aren't. To fail and preserve my character, or to win by selling my soul? That is the question.
I know for sure by now that all my "hard work" in grade school means bupkis. Not even the whole "it shows you can start something and complete it" bit doesn't satisfy me. So the existential crisis continues for a third year...what is this life about?
18 January 2011
give me a job
A facebook friend posted this a week or two ago: "what should you value more in a professional experience: quality, or "quantity", that is, length of commitment? is it just my generation, or are most people always looking for a better, more interesting, or just more convenient way to earn their living and enjoy their work?"
Of course the reading of this reminded me of how I am racked with guilt over being one of those Generation Y losers who haven't stayed at one place of employment for multiple, continuous years. I try to justify, and think over the reasons why I have not stayed. Well, I suppose it began with college. I worked summer only. Then work-study at the Columbus museum came along, interrupted by an internship in D.C. I did go back to Columbus, yet I doubt that counts as continuity. Then graduation...and work-study ended and the museum had no place for me. I volunteered for a few months, worked retail for a few more, then got back into the old Development office for a few months. Then I had the awesome idea to go to graduate school. Ooops? More work-study, but there wasn't enough work to last past May both years. Summer jobs. Unpaid internships. Volunteering. Substitute teaching. 2010 Census. Then finishing the last 4 months of the Zanesville museum's education grant.
I want to know, quite simply and unequivocally, does the past decade of my life make me ineligible to work for a living?
Because it was all supposed to do the opposite.
Of course the reading of this reminded me of how I am racked with guilt over being one of those Generation Y losers who haven't stayed at one place of employment for multiple, continuous years. I try to justify, and think over the reasons why I have not stayed. Well, I suppose it began with college. I worked summer only. Then work-study at the Columbus museum came along, interrupted by an internship in D.C. I did go back to Columbus, yet I doubt that counts as continuity. Then graduation...and work-study ended and the museum had no place for me. I volunteered for a few months, worked retail for a few more, then got back into the old Development office for a few months. Then I had the awesome idea to go to graduate school. Ooops? More work-study, but there wasn't enough work to last past May both years. Summer jobs. Unpaid internships. Volunteering. Substitute teaching. 2010 Census. Then finishing the last 4 months of the Zanesville museum's education grant.
I want to know, quite simply and unequivocally, does the past decade of my life make me ineligible to work for a living?
Because it was all supposed to do the opposite.
13 January 2011
critical thinking
I remember it from the corners of grade school textbooks: "Critical Thinking," a section of the chapter most often ignored (to all students' relief) for the more palatable multiple choice questions and bullet points. In a recent conversation, though, it came to me that the lack of critical thinking is at the root of almost every stagnated argument. Why weren't we encouraged as children to practice that most important of skills? To listen and learn, but not to take anything for granted, for gospel. Analyze. Criticize. Think.
For example, during my time homebound with my father, I have often run into political and ideological stalemate. I have often lamented the whole "us versus them" trope that makes everything so black and white, life and death. All I hear pertaining to Muslims and mosques is parroted from the latest Fox News program, filled with emotional fallacy and hatred and fear. Any disagreement on my part is often met with harsh words...or at least they felt harsh to me. To disagree is not to be narrow-minded, or insolent, or aggressive. I do admit to being "aggressive" on New York subways, if indeed looking into someone's eye is an act of war, but I just can't not look, you know? And I just can't not voice my opinions and observations.
The thing is, it is ungratifying to say the least when saying my part does not propel us into meaningful dialogue. Who wants to be shut down with a curt "No, you're wrong"? Even children don't accept that crap. They ask why. And grownups scramble for some watered-down explanation of sex or pregnancy or profanity. It is our natural instinct to question and explore.
So why am I seeing all these signs appearing to say "Don't question" and "Don't think"? If you want to contradict me, come up with something better than "No."
Just now, reading the book Heaven, I came across a Muslim scholar fighting against the lack of critical thinking within Islam itself. What Americans might consider Islam is in fact an overly literal, Puritanical interpretation that forbids all questions. An "uncritical adherence" to the Qur'an. Sound familiar? These "Puritans" ignore history and cultural context and foster the ideas that lead young Muslims to terrorism. Of course, this is a simplification...read the book. But either way, it tells me that I've been onto something, because I see uncritical adherence in many religions and ideologies.
So to put it critically, people have been asking the wrong question: it's not which religion is the right path (a nice, simple either/or that many are comfortable with) but how does religion lead us down the path?
Reject the literal, forget the grade school adherence to whatever the teacher tells you. Think for yourself. It's nothing new, but it sure could solve a lot of new problems.
For example, during my time homebound with my father, I have often run into political and ideological stalemate. I have often lamented the whole "us versus them" trope that makes everything so black and white, life and death. All I hear pertaining to Muslims and mosques is parroted from the latest Fox News program, filled with emotional fallacy and hatred and fear. Any disagreement on my part is often met with harsh words...or at least they felt harsh to me. To disagree is not to be narrow-minded, or insolent, or aggressive. I do admit to being "aggressive" on New York subways, if indeed looking into someone's eye is an act of war, but I just can't not look, you know? And I just can't not voice my opinions and observations.
The thing is, it is ungratifying to say the least when saying my part does not propel us into meaningful dialogue. Who wants to be shut down with a curt "No, you're wrong"? Even children don't accept that crap. They ask why. And grownups scramble for some watered-down explanation of sex or pregnancy or profanity. It is our natural instinct to question and explore.
So why am I seeing all these signs appearing to say "Don't question" and "Don't think"? If you want to contradict me, come up with something better than "No."
Just now, reading the book Heaven, I came across a Muslim scholar fighting against the lack of critical thinking within Islam itself. What Americans might consider Islam is in fact an overly literal, Puritanical interpretation that forbids all questions. An "uncritical adherence" to the Qur'an. Sound familiar? These "Puritans" ignore history and cultural context and foster the ideas that lead young Muslims to terrorism. Of course, this is a simplification...read the book. But either way, it tells me that I've been onto something, because I see uncritical adherence in many religions and ideologies.
So to put it critically, people have been asking the wrong question: it's not which religion is the right path (a nice, simple either/or that many are comfortable with) but how does religion lead us down the path?
Reject the literal, forget the grade school adherence to whatever the teacher tells you. Think for yourself. It's nothing new, but it sure could solve a lot of new problems.
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