Working Girl

So I started a new job as the manager of a little boutique-y store in a high end gym. As an SCU graduate, it doesn’t really pay what I should be earning. But in this economy it’s a steady job, not stressful, and the perks such as a free membership to the gym are great. Overall I’d actually say I’m really happy with it. But I still see it as a temporary thing. I still want to go to grad school. However, there are currently some problems with that:

1.) I don’t feel like I’ve researched enough schools and I’ve been really bad about putting any time into that.

2.) I need to take the GREs and I’m scared about them since I never did the SATs and feel like I don’t know what to expect.

3.) I just haven’t been writing… I really need to make more effort to make consistant time set aside just for writing. I do have ideas floating around in my head, I just need to get them out.

4.) GREs training and the test itself, and grad school apps cost money. While this job does get my bills paid, I live very meagerly and don’t have much left over.

So… Even just this little iPhone entry is my effort to motivate myself. I need to research school and take the GREs. I need to start writing everyday, even if it’s just a silly little blog update.

So wish me luck….here goes nothing!

Crash Course in Ethics

So I have just completely my final course in my undergraduate educational career: an intro course in ethics.

After having studied philosophy in high school, middle college, community college, and at St. John’s College – where I left right after reading almost everything Plato and we just started translating his words from the ancient Greek we were learning – the first day of this intro class was a little worrisome: it was  class for those who have never even heard of philosophy.  Well, at least never studied it.  At all.

Who were those people?  Who went to college – and a good one at that – without knowing what philosophy was?  Apparently, a lot of people.  And pretty much everyone in my class.  Sounded like a whole lot of potential for stupid questions and boredom for me.

My opinion of SCU that started dwindling with the small group of students who were all much younger and fresher into the college experience than me.  They including an athlete who was recruited from a state school (and in my opinion it showed that she wouldn’t have gotten here otherwise), and another kid who asked “Who’s David?” in the middle of a discussion regarding beauty and works of art (such as statues) by Michelangelo.  *Disappointment*

However, as the short summer session progressed, so did the students.  Their initially (somewhat) stupid questions turned into genuine curiosity and interest.  Which, even for someone who has studied some philosophy, made the class interesting.  The professor did a great job, too, of actually challenging us and asking us the hard questions.  He called us out on our shit – but didn’t at all regard any opinion as “shit” – merely emphasized questioning everything (but without getting philosophy teacher/5 year old kid annoying with the , “well, why?  well, why? well, why?” redundancy).  Regardless of our level of studies or understanding, he made us all think – and he made us all challenge each other as well as ourselves.

One lesson learned in this class that I feel like I am experiencing in the work place comes from a discussion on the difference between “fairness” and “justice.”  The example that stands out in my mind is one the professor shared with us on two kids.  One comes from a wealthy family and had breakfast – and has breakfast every morning.  The other comes from a poor family and did not have – and never gets – breakfast in morning.  If you have two apples (he said oranges, but the acid on an empty stomach makes for a bad example in my opinion), who do you give them to?

The fair thing to do would be to give both boys one apple each.

But the just thing to do would be to give both apples to the poor boy who is starving.

So what do we do in the work world?  When there is a job position opening up in a difficult economy?  Many people are unemployed but lets say there is someone already at the company who has worked part time for years while finishing up school.  Do you open it up and let everyone (anyone) apply?  Or do you give it to the girl who has already shown her ability to do the job, and do it well?  It might be fair to give everyone – including her – an equal chance at the position.  But is it really just to cause her so much stress as she waits, and watches others come and go to interview for the position she has waited for and worked hard for, for years now?

Grown up, Graduated, and Updated…?

So commencement was like a month ago.  I got a make up artist and my friend who’s a pro photographer to follow me around.  Got the most awesome pictures of me ever.  Other than that, a fairly boring ceremony, cliche speeches, but hey, it’s over and done with.  Kinda.

So I have to take summer classes to actually finish and get my degree.  Five weeks of a literature and culture class on India, then five weeks of an intro ethics class.  Don’t get me wrong, the India class is somewhat interesting, but at 8 in the morning, and 50% of class time being spent watching movies I can rent and watch some other time, it really pisses me off.  For awhile I just left when the movie started, but I guess the professor saw me (even though she leaves during the movies and doesn’t come back after for discussion or anything!) and told me that she saw me do it twice and that I can’t miss anymore class in the 5 week session.  Are you kidding me?  I’m there during every single discussion and I am one of the 5 people who actually ever say anything.  Also, EVERY single thing I have mentioned she continues to refer to, and even tells the class to “make a note of” for later.  Don’t fucking tell me I’m losing participation points bitch.  I’m fucking 25% of the participation in that class – and at least 50% comes from her too!

Also, I had to take out a loan just for this summer session since my school has zero financial aid during the summer.  All in all, I’m pretty much paying $200 to watch each of these movies that I can rent at the library (which is free compared to renting at a store) just because the professor is lazy (she’s not even there – and if she doesn’t have to be there, I don’t see why I have to be there).  Wtf.  I’m so not down with that.

Besides that, I’m also working as full time as possible.  30 hours/week right now, but after the classes, and then having to come home to a bunch of reading and writing papers….it’s already taking such a toll on me.  Let’s face it, I’m absolutely miserable.  Maybe when I’m finished with summer school I’ll be more okay with my job, but in the meantime I’m finding it so mundane, so boring, so effortless it hurts.

I absolutely have to go to graduate school.

So during class while I’m supposedly watching movies I’ve been researching creative writing programs.  Doing some creative writing student teaching last quarter made me feel much more confident in my ability to possibly one day be a professor.  I’ve been hesitant about becoming a teacher because I don’t think I could really deal with kids.  Grade school, middle school, high school – I’m not a fucking babysitter.  Never have been, don’t ever plan on being one.  If I have my own kids one day I’ll be raising them and loving them, not sitting them.  But yeah, I don’t take care of other people’s kids and I have no desire to either.  College students I could deal with.  College students you can straight up say “if you don’t want to be here, get the fuck out. There’s the door, and plenty of other students who want to be here who will gladly take your seat.”

I’ve also felt like I kind of suck at the basic stuff, so how the hell would I teach it to anyone else?  But then I’ve been realizing, if I really specialize in creative writing, that’s what I would get to teach.  Also, I think I could deal with a basic level class or two just because I’d be so excited about the specified creative writing courses I’d be teaching.  I wouldn’t have to be stuck in a cubicle, I wouldn’t have to stare at the same four walls for 8 hours a day/5 days a week, I would deal with new students each quarter, maybe even different classes each quarter, it would always be new and fresh, I would be able to get up and move around (in front of the classroom, walking from class to class to office), I could potentially have an office!, etc.

I literally feel like sitting in a cubicle all day is killing me.

Besides the stress, unhappiness, lack of challenge, lack of creative flow, it’s just plain not what my body wants to do.  I’ll probably end up with carpal tunnel syndrome from typing all day.  My neck, back, and shoulders hurt all day and every night – even though I have one of those fairly comfortable ergonomic chairs – I’m just too short to sit at that desk, I swear.  And my eyes have already lost some of their strength.  I used to have perfect vision – more than perfect I swear.  A few years ago I noticed that I couldn’t see as far away as I used to.  I went to the eye doctor and they said I had perfect vision.  I can only take this to assume that I used to have better than perfect.  Now, my vision has actually faded and I need glasses to see far away while I’m driving, better see movie screens, etc.  If I have to stay at a desk in a cubicle for the rest of my life I really think I would actually have to worry about both my mental and physical health.

So, again, I have to go to grad school.

Trouble with that is that I won’t be able to start applying until September.  That’s when I’ll be done with summer school and when some of the application processes begin for some schools.  I’ll apply by December-January, depending on each program’s deadline, find out in the spring (I assume), and won’t be able to start until Fall 2010 (the creative writing programs I’m looking into only have fall admittance).  So until then, I have to pay rent.  Awesome.

Now, I know that especially right now I should be grateful to have a job.  Don’t get me wrong, I am.  I get paid fairly decently too – especially considering that most people I know who are working right now (including fellow recent graduates) are in crummy retail/restaurant type jobs.  But still I’m so stifled.  I feel like I’m suffocating.  And – I don’t mean to be stuck up but – I know I’m way too good for this job.  But again, don’t get me wrong – I have an awesome boss. She is a total sweetheart, really appreciative of the work I do, loves having me around, totally depends on me specifically, and wants no one else but me to work for her.  Every time I’ve left that job (for school or because of budget cut backs) she fights so hard with administration to keep me on, or gets really sad that I’m leaving because she almost doesn’t know what she’ll do without me.  And I’m in no way saying she’s incompetent or anything like that – far from it – she just has a lot on her plate and it’s all so much easier to swallow when I’m there to help her.  But the thing is for me is just that the work itself isn’t that challenging.  She has recently given me more challenging stuff (I get to actually write the entire report rather than only editing and making the charts for it), but even still.  I just get bored and just plain want more out of life in general…  I’d love to be the kind of person who could be satisfied with the mundane, just because it’d be nice to work for her and help her out, but I just can’t.  I’m just not that person.  I’m not and never will be able to be mundane.  I try.  I’ve been trying.  And I’m tired.

And since it’s 2:30 in the morning and I have to be up at 7, I should probably try that sleep thing again…wish me luck. (With everything.)

Senioritis

Crap.  I guess I do have it after all.

And it’s so much worse than any other end-of-the-quarter-crap-I-haven’t-gotten-everything-done-that’s-due-NOW anxiety that I always get…at the end of every quarter.  Because the end of the this quarter is the end of my college career.

Crap.

Right when I’m really realizing that I LOVE being a college student I have to leave it.  I love saying I’m a college student as an excuse for what I’m wearing.  I love being a college student to excuse the mess of my room, the mis-matched furniture from the cragslist free section, the smelly clothes on the floor next to my laundry hamper, and the lack of food/abundance of condiments in my fridge.  I love being a college student because drug and alcohol experimentation is just that – not use or abuse, but fun times to be captured and bragged about on facebook.  And now?  What’s my excuse?

I’m a writer.  That’s what.

This is yet another realization I’ve made.  I can keep my ripped jeans, funny tee-shirts, colorful hoodie, and faux leather jacket because I’m an artist of sorts.  I can keep craigslist free scavenging because those items are unique and have a story behind it.  And I can have a limited amount of food in my fridge because well, I’m broke and will be paying off loans for, oh, well, forever.

It’s still an adjustment though.  From being kooky and crazy because I’m in college to being weird and crazy because I’m a WRITER.  You know, the crazy creative kind.  And I live with one photographer and one painter/art history/restorer.  So surrounded by creative people.  And I like it that way – because they’re ok with the mess, the clothes, and the (lack of) food in the fridge.

And now…I keep writing…and look into grad school haha.  So who wants to take me?  Or better yet, who wants to pay?

Still not unpacked..!

I love this apartment complex.  It’s so pretty and relaxing that I feel like I’m on vacation – but oh wait! No!  I live here!  So awesome.

However, homeworks and other business related matters are suffering…not that bad but still, I could be more on top of my shit.  Oh well.  Only a couple weeks left (of school!  Wtf!?

Shitty thing is that I have to take summer school.  In fact, as of right now they say I can’t participate in commencement because they don’t want to count my college credits for certain things – they say I have three requirements left and can’t participate unless I have two or less left.  Boo to that!  Just gotta petition out of ethics and see if they’ll move one class from one requirement to another, so another class can fulfill that first requirement instead…oy.  So annoying.  I’ve been taking college classes for seven years, give me a degree already!  Either way I’ll get there…I better!

Moving Again!

So last minute I love it!  I’m moving into my favorite apartment complex with my two favorite people.  I’m graduating soon and already have a job lined up.  I love my car and I love that I can walk to so many awesome places from this apartment.  We’re going to have a cat so awesome that even though I don’t even like cats and am allergic to them, I love and am not allergic to this one.  I’ve actually been doing the writing for the TWO simultaneous short stories I’m writing right now!  Now I just gotta finish them before school finishes with me!  Ack!  But still…I really can’t complain right now.  Things are awesome – hey! – awesome just like me.

Backpacking Adventures!

After driving through the dark hills and up into the mountains with mysterious tress, Mike and I arrived at the state park at 10:47pm.  Everything we would need for the next 12+ hours was strapped to our backs.  Flashlights in hand, knives at our waists, and headlamps on, we were ready for the 3.5 miles trek into the wilderness.

We snapped some pictures of the map after carefully studying it.  We decided on a trail that would hopefully get us to the campgrounds the quickest.  There’s something magical about the tress at night.  Looking up at them, my headlamp lit them from underneath – a light source they weren’t used to.  The light from below the huge tress made them glow eerily, and yet I felt safe in my glowing circle.

The trail itself was full of twists and turns up, and up the mountains.  Some parts of the trail were so eaten up by the mountain that it felt more like rock climbing than hiking.  The views were amazing.  Utter darkness fell below thousands of stars that I’m not used to seeing in the Bay Area.  I would often take pause just to gaze at them all, see if I could see the patterns people named them after.

At one point, we decided to take a little bit of a break.  It was the middle of the night, but we were both sweating and already aching under the weight of our packs.  Then, Mike looked at me to see if I was moving.  He motioned for me to stay quiet.  He turned out over the right of the trail where the hill went down into trees, bushes, and foliage.  Mike flashed his light on, searching for the source of the cracking of twigs he heard.  And there, two glowing orbs stared right back into his light.  It was the face of the noises, a mountain lion not more than 30 yards away from us, when we were only a quarter mile to the campsite.

Knowing that mountain lions are scared of loud noises, Mike took out a mini-air-horn that was brought with us in case of an emergency that we’d have to send a single out for.  Three loud blasts and the mountain lion did nothing.  Three more loud blasts and it still stared back.  Not knowing what else to do, we figured it was far enough away to keep moving, but that we would keep our eyes and ears on it to make sure it didn’t come closer to us.

At the campsite, we built a fire to keep the kitty away.  Only at that time did we realize that among the items in our packs we forgot marshmallows for roasting.  We unpacked our stuff and set up the tent.  When our wood started to burn out, Mike found a giant log to burn.  You know, the one from the forest that you’re not supposed to burn?  Wanting to keep the mountain lion at a safe distance, we felt the need to keep the fire going, for the sake of our lives and the fellow campers around us.

The ranger didn’t like that.

We get woken up at 9am, after having hiked in at midnight, and setting up camp around 2-3am, to “Excuse me!  Excuse me!  Can you get out of your tent please?”  Mike, super groggy, gets his shorts and shirt on and crawls out of the tent.  ”Hi, yeah can I help you?”

“Yes, did you put this log on?”

“Well, sir, on our hike in we spotted a mountain lion less than a quarter a mile from the campgrounds.  We wanted to keep a fire going to keep it away from everyone.”

“Yeah, that would be the thing to do.”

“So yeah, we had our own firewood, but when that all burned through it was our only option.  For the sake of the safety of the campers on the campground.”

“I understand that.” (And then, Ranger Rick’s kicker) “But I’m still going to have to site you for burning that.  I’ll need to see your identification and you’ll need to come with me to the station.”

Are you kidding me?  Did he not just admit that keeping a fire going all night was the best thing to do to keep from campers turning into kitty chow?

Mike follows the ranger to the station where he proceeds to write him up.  And then another kicker.

“So Mike, did you know that your license is suspended right now?”

“Actually no, sir, I did not.”

“Looks like an unpaid ticket.”

“Ah yes, I do know about that.  You see sir, I just got laid off and we were out here to celebrate my birthday.”

“Oh yeah, look at that.  It was yesterday.  Well I’m going to have to keep your license.”

“Are you kidding me?  Seriously?  You can’t just tell them I didn’t have it on me?”

“Yeah, I could.  But you did have it.  So I’m going to hold on to it.”

Mike walked back to the camp, where I’ve been packing everything up.  Still exhausted, he was not looking forward to lugging over 100lbs on his back after a couple hours of sleep, a citation, and the loss of his license (after losing his job), for another over 3 mile hike in the sun.  We laid out on the benches for a little bit of extra rest, then mustered up all our strength and hit the trail.

When we finally got to the car, the first thing we did was blast AC, then google mapped the nearest Kirk’s burger joint.  Upon seeing the sign for Kirk’s our stomachs were already roaring louder than any mountain lion could have.  The place was also AC’ed to the point of deliciousness, but when cold sodas hit our lips we forgot about the troubles of our adventures and melted into the booth.  Those were probable some of the most delicious and well earned burgers and fries we’d ever had.

Senior Ball

Senior ball was last night.  Pretty fun night overall.  My favorite part – to be honest – was when Captain Ed let me come up behind the “CREW ONLY” sign to watch him dock the boat.  He said most people aren’t interested in this part of the boat.  I told him I’m not your average Santa Clara student – among whom were taking up all the stalls in the bathrooms throwing up.  He chuckled, saying he didn’t think people would get sick with a four drink maximum.  I responded, “I don’t think they realized that drinking plus boat equals super sea sick.”  I didn’t need to be a math major to figure that one out.

Overall, fun night though.  Although kind of weird.  It’s slowly but surely hitting me – I’m graduating college!  Wtf!? haha.  I also bough my class ring, which I’m really excited about.  I kind of feel like a dork being so excited about it, but I am.  The way I look at it, graduating from SCU really is a big accomplishment for me.  In high school, I didn’t even think I’d go to college – let alone such a prestigious university like Santa Clara.  Never in my life did I think I would go – let alone get into – such a school.  But here I am!  A few weeks from GRADUATING from this school, and I’ve done well here too!  So yeah, I’m gonna get excited about my class ring, cap and gown, and everything graduating has to bring me!

Forgive but don’t Forget

So I’m driving around with a friend and we stop at a 711 to pick up some snacks.  I jump on my iPhone to check email, Facebook etc when I see that I have a friend request.  And it’s from him.  You know, the guy from my story.

A fucking facebook friend request.

Thoughts of arranging a “friendly” meeting with him for dinner somewhere came into my head.  And then having all my huge male friends kick the fucking shit out of him.  They could wear masks and gloves and all.  No DNA, no cameras or images or facial recognition.  Hell I even know club owners and bouncers who know cops and would be able to tell them that he tried to hit me first and so they were just protecting me.  And it would work.

Like I said, you don’t fuck with me.

But it’s so in the past.  Forgive, but don’t forget.  But that’s kind of the thing, he doesn’t even know.  He doesn’t even realize what he did.  After all, we were all drunk and just having fun, right?  And now… His facebook shows that he has a girlfriend.

If anything, it’s probably the timing that caught me the most off guard.  It’s almost too much of a coincidence.  I mean really, right after I write that story, and even submit it to a contest?  Really now?  If God or whatever is testing me for my ability to forgive, I hope it still counts as forgiveness that I didn’t add him just to arrange an epic ass beating, and instead choose to ignore it, because we really don’t need to get into all of that.  I mean, just because I don’t want to see him doesn’t mean that I don’t forgive it, does it?  I think my reasons for not wanting to involve my life with his are just.  He has his life now, with a girlfriend who will take him for who he is, and I don’t need to bring up that kind of past to interrupt whatever life he has now – let alone put my life on hold to do that.

So here are my reasons to put that story out: not only to get over it myself, but to share my experience so that others might not have to live it to learn from it.  The thing about my story is that it’s not rape (and didn’t get to that point, which unfortunately so many women have experienced).  My story is that blurred line of the drunken silence of “consent” and taking advantage of that silence because they don’t even realize you’re screaming inside.

And no, that doesn’t make it right or anything.  My main point is that it’s blurred and silent.  As a society we like to hear about the extremes – the blacks and the whites, not the problematic grays that if addressed could solve further issues.  And even more, when you hear about an experience like that from a loved one, you be there for them.  No matter how hard it is for you, you fucking be there for the ones you love.

So “John,” that story wasn’t for you.  I don’t want to be your facebook friend, but I’m not out for vengeance either.  It was for any man or woman who gets too drunk and “isn’t sure” what they want or how to communicate it properly.  It’s for the loved ones of victims to let them know that not being there for the victim could hurt them just as much – if not even more – than the event they suffered through.  It’s for other girls and women to warn them.  Know your friends.  Know the people you drink with.  Know why they are your friends and why you drink with them – and make sure it’s only for the right reasons.  And if you don’t know what the “right” reasons are, you shouldn’t be drinking at all.

Most importantly, it’s for anyone who’s been there to, at the very least, let them know that it was not okay and you are not alone.

Be there for the ones you love.  It’s the hardest moments in life that we need our friends the most.  The easiest way to care about someone is to listen to them and be a shoulder for them to cry on if they want it.

 

“Always love, hate will get you everytime.”  - Nada Surf

Secret Smile

The room is night.  A bit of blue light glows from the sleeping computer in the corner, next to his desk.  Clothes haven’t been put away and boxes haven’t been unpacked yet.  A slowly deflating air mattress lays in the way of everything, in front of the door to the room, and blocking off half of the closet.

The for-now bed is strewn with mismatched pillows and comforters.  He has the lighter one because he always gets so hot so easily.  I have the thick, down comforter to keep me warm on the other half of the mattress - well, more like my third of it.  His body is so large and looming over my petite frame.  We balance each other out not just on the air bed.

Our heads are on separate pillows, but pointed towards each other. Between our two bodies, our hands are where we met.   He isn’t snoring right now, but I know he’s sound asleep.  As if he knew I was thinking about him, admiring his rare peacefulness, he squeezes my hand, reminding me that I trusted mine into his.

At the most tender, reassuring squeeze, I couldn’t help but smile so brightly I thought he might wake up.  I kind of hoped he would, knowing he would love to see me so happy – he would think it was beautiful – and he would know it’s the biggest version of that smile I only do for him.  But I wouldn’t want to wake him just for that.  He was finally sleeping after a long week of stress, setbacks, and moving.  I smiled at his peace, knowing he would have plenty of other opportunities to see that smile that he puts on my face.