My professional journey (read: meandering route to find work that I not only don't hate, but actually kind of like) has what I consider to be uncommon breadth and somewhat lackluster depth. I'm not sure, but I suspect it is unusual to have worked in one state capitol, two travel organizations, a financial company, four public school systems, and a clothing company in a product development capacity. Not to mention five different retail settings, three restaurants, one bakery, one legal advocacy job, one non-profit consulting project, at least two unpaid internships and one administrative position.
All of the sudden, just now, while I was making that list, I started to feel like Miranda, in Sex and the City, making her list of who she had to call. In reviewing what I've written, I suddenly feel shame with regard to my number. I'm batting 1.2 jobs per year. I'm a little horrified. While I claim responsibility for the post-college, pre-marriage path, I have to say that the moving since I got drafted by the evil empire (five cross-country moves in five years) has amplified the repercussions of my predisposition to career about-faces.
July 31, 2011
July 29, 2011
Work: Preface
Some things regarding work are on my mind. However, they were on the minds of famous people first:
Mark Twain said: "Do something every day that you don't want to do; this is the golden rule for acquiring the habit of doing your duty without pain."
Winston Churchill said: "Never, never, never, never give up." [He also said "Courage is going from failure to failure without losing enthusiasm.", which I like and only just discovered while verifying the first one.]
Gloria Steinham said: "I think the best job is often one that doesn't exist until you create it. The best career is one that you carve out for yourself."
I'm working on a personal goal right now regarding persistence and the long view. These three ideas sustain me in moments of irritation or impatience.
Another note on persistence...while I understand that Hilary Clinton is not always a crowd favorite, I have now read several separate profiles on her that have left a strong impression on me. For a dose of inspiration in the current daily grind, read about her schedule and methods: Vanity Fair June 2011: Woman of the World. I'm still on hunt for the links to the other articles.
Happy Friday.
Mark Twain said: "Do something every day that you don't want to do; this is the golden rule for acquiring the habit of doing your duty without pain."
Winston Churchill said: "Never, never, never, never give up." [He also said "Courage is going from failure to failure without losing enthusiasm.", which I like and only just discovered while verifying the first one.]
Gloria Steinham said: "I think the best job is often one that doesn't exist until you create it. The best career is one that you carve out for yourself."
I'm working on a personal goal right now regarding persistence and the long view. These three ideas sustain me in moments of irritation or impatience.
Another note on persistence...while I understand that Hilary Clinton is not always a crowd favorite, I have now read several separate profiles on her that have left a strong impression on me. For a dose of inspiration in the current daily grind, read about her schedule and methods: Vanity Fair June 2011: Woman of the World. I'm still on hunt for the links to the other articles.
Happy Friday.
July 25, 2011
Sew By Hand
I was planning to write about work, because I've been working much more in the last couple weeks (still in a temporary, free-agent capacity), and my brain is busy with reactions to it, pros/cons, hopes, fears...but when I started typing, this is what happened:
REASONS WHY I PREFER SEWING BY HAND TO USING MY MACHINE
- You can operate your needle while drinking champagne, but using the machine while under the influence is not advisable
- Hand-sewing travels well (you just have to use fingernail clippers instead of scissors if you're going through airport security)
- More time is spent stitching, but less time is spent ripping (which is the way I like to roll)
- Less ripping of stitches = less wasted thread
- No fossil fuel is required in the assembly of the garment
- Stitching by hand goes nicely with talking, in person or even by Skype
July 21, 2011
Act (WWII-Era) British
I saw this at a co-worker's desk:
Turns out that it has a pretty serious history: KeepCalmandCarryOn.com. Right now I like it as a general reminder for the times when I start to feel busier, and therefore a touch frazzled.
While Canadians aren't exactly Brits, I do notice some of this calm vibe up here, not New Orleans, stop-and-have-a-cocktail-screw-the-deadline calm, just it-will-get-done-and-things-will-be-fine calm. Which also explains their approach to mail delivery.
Turns out that it has a pretty serious history: KeepCalmandCarryOn.com. Right now I like it as a general reminder for the times when I start to feel busier, and therefore a touch frazzled.
While Canadians aren't exactly Brits, I do notice some of this calm vibe up here, not New Orleans, stop-and-have-a-cocktail-screw-the-deadline calm, just it-will-get-done-and-things-will-be-fine calm. Which also explains their approach to mail delivery.
July 20, 2011
Oil, Energy and Consumption
After finally getting it through my thick skull that my husband would keep the job he liked in the oil industry, and maybe that would even be okay, I started paying more attention to it. I have learned facts that surprise me about energy, including information about how we collect it, create it, produce it, use it and waste it.
July 18, 2011
Summer: Postscript
The Canadian weather gods heard my whining, and they tossed me a little summer. It's a touch humid, which I find glorious, and it's even warm enough that I made iced tea and cucumber water and turned on fans. As icing on the cake, we even had thunderstorms at night. I need to find a way to express my gratitude so it doesn't suddenly start snowing tomorrow.
Maybe I should sew a maple leaf on my bag? That would explain a lot about other Canadians I see out and about.
Maybe I should sew a maple leaf on my bag? That would explain a lot about other Canadians I see out and about.
Married to Oil
I say a lot of negative things about being married to oil, and certain aspects of it do make me feel sometimes frustrated and powerless, on both personal and cultural levels. But the truth is, as with most things, it's complicated.
My initial response to my husband’s job when we met wasn’t quite disdain, but I didn’t really consider it a positive situation. Secretly, I had it on my mental list of things that I hoped might change sometime in our future, if we had a future. I thought maybe it was temporary stage that he would shift out of, like the few years that I was thinking about law school before I realized that it wouldn't be a good fit for what I really wanted. He loved Minnesota so much, and he was such a nice guy, how could this industry be his future?
My initial response to my husband’s job when we met wasn’t quite disdain, but I didn’t really consider it a positive situation. Secretly, I had it on my mental list of things that I hoped might change sometime in our future, if we had a future. I thought maybe it was temporary stage that he would shift out of, like the few years that I was thinking about law school before I realized that it wouldn't be a good fit for what I really wanted. He loved Minnesota so much, and he was such a nice guy, how could this industry be his future?
July 16, 2011
Perspective
This is so heartbreaking; definitely puts my challenges in their place: at the bottom of the heap, or even nonexistent compared to being forced to abandon your home, on foot, already hungry, to avoid further starvation and war.
Misery Follows as Somalis Try to Flee Hunger
For more information on life in the Dadaab refugee camp, the book Citizens of Nowhere, by Debi Goodwin, is readable and excellent. It also puts on display something cool about Canadians, which is their more calm and practical attitude regarding immigration.
Misery Follows as Somalis Try to Flee Hunger
For more information on life in the Dadaab refugee camp, the book Citizens of Nowhere, by Debi Goodwin, is readable and excellent. It also puts on display something cool about Canadians, which is their more calm and practical attitude regarding immigration.
No Summer
Once and a while, but thankfully less frequently than a year ago, I become desperate to get off this train. Sometimes, particularly on Friday nights, all I can think about is Minnesota. Lakes and good shopping, friends on patios, delightful fresh food at reasonable prices, fresh summer smells and green everywhere.
July 14, 2011
Absence and Hearts
Lately, I've been reflecting on marrieds choosing to live apart. I'm realizing that I can make a significant list of couples in our circle of friends and colleagues who spend months of the year apart, or even who live apart in a semi-permanent condition. The primary cause of this for the people that I know is the strange nomadic demands of life with an oil service company, but it's almost certain that military couples experience this to an even greater degree than we do.
July 12, 2011
34 Yr Old Intern
Something happened at work recently that has caused me to feel a crisis of confidence. Changing career paths in my 30s has had the expected pros and cons...loss of income...feelings of excitement and relief from waking up without the dread cloud overhead...confusion about how to break in to a new field...worry about choosing wrong, again. But the most unexpected part of it for me as been the resulting shakiness in confidence. In order the get the job that I think I want in Calgary, I did an unpaid internship last fall for two months.
July 11, 2011
July 10, 2011
Stalking the Royals
So we've been in Canada for over a year now, which is shocking. It was our second Canada day, and then now we've just begun our second Stampede.
I can't lie, I have a natural aversion to large, can't-miss events. I did not care for Mardi Gras in New Orleans, I have never been to WeFest in Detroit Lakes, I have never been to a state fair in Minnesota, and I have so far successfully avoided experiencing the Stampede. I think chuck wagon races sound suspect, and yesterday they had to shoot a horse because he broke his leg during a race; I'm definitely glad I did not see that.
I can't lie, I have a natural aversion to large, can't-miss events. I did not care for Mardi Gras in New Orleans, I have never been to WeFest in Detroit Lakes, I have never been to a state fair in Minnesota, and I have so far successfully avoided experiencing the Stampede. I think chuck wagon races sound suspect, and yesterday they had to shoot a horse because he broke his leg during a race; I'm definitely glad I did not see that.
July 09, 2011
Job
Wednesday May 4, 2011
The universe stepped in and made the what's-next decision about my next step easier by offering me a temporary job (see previous post). Good thing I didn’t spend money on a class just yet. I’m a fit assistant in apparel development at the place where I interned last fall when we first moved here. The work is slow so far, but I have to start from the beginning, so I’m doing my best to embrace it and to learn. I’m all ears while I’m there, trying to unlock the mystery of how clothes really get made.
I think at the end of the month I will find out if they can use me in an ongoing way. It’s nice to get paid for stuff I did for free last fall, and it makes me glad I followed my instincts this time.
The universe stepped in and made the what's-next decision about my next step easier by offering me a temporary job (see previous post). Good thing I didn’t spend money on a class just yet. I’m a fit assistant in apparel development at the place where I interned last fall when we first moved here. The work is slow so far, but I have to start from the beginning, so I’m doing my best to embrace it and to learn. I’m all ears while I’m there, trying to unlock the mystery of how clothes really get made.
I think at the end of the month I will find out if they can use me in an ongoing way. It’s nice to get paid for stuff I did for free last fall, and it makes me glad I followed my instincts this time.
The Nanny Diaries
February 1, 2011
I went out to breakfast by myself the other day on my day off. I sat next to two women, having a girl-brunch; one a new mom on maternity leave, the other a working mom, away from the office. They were seated only a couple feet away from me, so I couldn’t help buy overhear. They discussed, at length, some standard Calgarian hot topics: a blow-out trip to Las Vegas, maternity leave, and finding a good nanny.
I went out to breakfast by myself the other day on my day off. I sat next to two women, having a girl-brunch; one a new mom on maternity leave, the other a working mom, away from the office. They were seated only a couple feet away from me, so I couldn’t help buy overhear. They discussed, at length, some standard Calgarian hot topics: a blow-out trip to Las Vegas, maternity leave, and finding a good nanny.
I'm Taking a Class! No More School!
Monday, April 18, 2011
This week the universe is sending me mixed signals.
Finally found an interesting fashion class online. wavered, didn’t love the course description, thought it might be expensive, got over it, got annoyed how much time it seems to take to figure out what i should be doing, then...
This week the universe is sending me mixed signals.
Finally found an interesting fashion class online. wavered, didn’t love the course description, thought it might be expensive, got over it, got annoyed how much time it seems to take to figure out what i should be doing, then...
Mountain People
January 2, 2011
Last night we went to dinner at the house of one of my husband's co-workers. We have gotten together with them only a few times, and they are very nice, but gatherings like these definitely highlight an aspect of life in Canada that freaks me out.
Last night we went to dinner at the house of one of my husband's co-workers. We have gotten together with them only a few times, and they are very nice, but gatherings like these definitely highlight an aspect of life in Canada that freaks me out.
Work: Retail
December 6, 2010
Late for work, feel nervous. Hate that I feel so trapped by my schedule. Chip is in the air over Saskatchewan, we will pass each other in the air. I am in MSP and want to stay here desperately. I am supposed to be in YYC already, getting ready for work, but my plans were foiled by fog in Salt Lake City.
Don’t feel like writing, but Mom and her friend that I trust told me that I had to, even if it feels like I have nothing to say.
Late for work, feel nervous. Hate that I feel so trapped by my schedule. Chip is in the air over Saskatchewan, we will pass each other in the air. I am in MSP and want to stay here desperately. I am supposed to be in YYC already, getting ready for work, but my plans were foiled by fog in Salt Lake City.
Witness Protection
June 29, 2010
I am in a situation which in my mind is similar to a witness protection program. In Canada I have no documented history. No credit. No driving record. No network, and apparently, no work references. It’s like I’m 18 again, except with less potential this time.
I am one phone call away from being employed again, and the only thing stopping me is that someone who offered to be a reference for me a year ago today referred the caller to human resources instead. That’s it; with that one small decision, my fate next week and indeed for the foreseeable while, hangs in the balance.
It occurs to me that there is an expiration date on good work. If you did it for a little while, but not recently enough, it will not be enough.
I feel sick to my stomach.
I am in a situation which in my mind is similar to a witness protection program. In Canada I have no documented history. No credit. No driving record. No network, and apparently, no work references. It’s like I’m 18 again, except with less potential this time.
I am one phone call away from being employed again, and the only thing stopping me is that someone who offered to be a reference for me a year ago today referred the caller to human resources instead. That’s it; with that one small decision, my fate next week and indeed for the foreseeable while, hangs in the balance.
It occurs to me that there is an expiration date on good work. If you did it for a little while, but not recently enough, it will not be enough.
I feel sick to my stomach.
Canadians
June 24, 2010
Canadians are wildly polite. Strangers will share their email address to make sure that you find what you are looking for (that happened to me in a store), and cars on highways will come to a halt if your body language even hints that you may consider crossing the street at some point in the following few minutes. I’ve been here for one month. Sometimes it feels like the best possible fit and other times I’m sure that I would give up much of our future material comfort in order to just move to a place of our choosing and live there for a long time. Probably Minneapolis, maybe Austin. In the meantime, I plan to cook and sew, a lot. Apparently feminism has gone all the way around the block and arrived right near where it started. What was a chore and burden forty years ago is now a privilege.
Canadians are wildly polite. Strangers will share their email address to make sure that you find what you are looking for (that happened to me in a store), and cars on highways will come to a halt if your body language even hints that you may consider crossing the street at some point in the following few minutes. I’ve been here for one month. Sometimes it feels like the best possible fit and other times I’m sure that I would give up much of our future material comfort in order to just move to a place of our choosing and live there for a long time. Probably Minneapolis, maybe Austin. In the meantime, I plan to cook and sew, a lot. Apparently feminism has gone all the way around the block and arrived right near where it started. What was a chore and burden forty years ago is now a privilege.
Canadian Traffic Jam
June 16, 2010
I was on driving around on a wild-goose chase looking for sewing machine oil when I heard on the radio that there was a traffic jam in some part of the metro area (presumably in the outer metro…) due to a herd of moose blocking traffic. No joke. Thankfully the radio guys had the good sense to point how hilariously and typically Canadian that sounded, so I don’t think it is a daily event (?!?!).
Even funnier is that the guy who sold me the machine oil doesn’t actually have a storefront or a retail business, and doesn’t spend much time at his place of business, which is a warehouse, so he left a few liters hanging in a bag on the back door of his warehouse and trusted me to leave a check. I did, of course (leave the check), after I finally found his place. I found his trust so charming.
I was on driving around on a wild-goose chase looking for sewing machine oil when I heard on the radio that there was a traffic jam in some part of the metro area (presumably in the outer metro…) due to a herd of moose blocking traffic. No joke. Thankfully the radio guys had the good sense to point how hilariously and typically Canadian that sounded, so I don’t think it is a daily event (?!?!).
Even funnier is that the guy who sold me the machine oil doesn’t actually have a storefront or a retail business, and doesn’t spend much time at his place of business, which is a warehouse, so he left a few liters hanging in a bag on the back door of his warehouse and trusted me to leave a check. I did, of course (leave the check), after I finally found his place. I found his trust so charming.
Moving Sadness
June 6, 2010
Our stuff arrived, complete with unpackers, yesterday. It weighed 8,700 pounds. Another 3,600 pounds is due to arrive in the next week or so, in the form of our car. Sleeping in our bed was an enormous relief after going through the nightly re-inflation of the air mattress. Our belongings fit better in the living room and master bedroom than I expected, and worse in the kitchen. There is work to be done.
Our stuff arrived, complete with unpackers, yesterday. It weighed 8,700 pounds. Another 3,600 pounds is due to arrive in the next week or so, in the form of our car. Sleeping in our bed was an enormous relief after going through the nightly re-inflation of the air mattress. Our belongings fit better in the living room and master bedroom than I expected, and worse in the kitchen. There is work to be done.
June 3, 2010
Email to Mom:
Long week, finally yesterday it was sunny enough to make wearing the summer clothes that I brought with me seem comfortable. Groceries two miles away so went on long walk for things that can be cooked in two pans with one spoon and no sharp knife. Accidentally bought a cute shirt and some shorts and then discovered cute neighborhood cafe, so that cheered me up.
Email to Mom:
Long week, finally yesterday it was sunny enough to make wearing the summer clothes that I brought with me seem comfortable. Groceries two miles away so went on long walk for things that can be cooked in two pans with one spoon and no sharp knife. Accidentally bought a cute shirt and some shorts and then discovered cute neighborhood cafe, so that cheered me up.
I’m Like a Cat
June 1, 2010
We moved to Canada. I’ve been frowning a lot. Our belongings are in a moving van somewhere between here and Minneapolis, and while I knew this would be annoying, I thought that knowing that fact would make it more tolerable. We have kept temporary moving waste (plastic forks, disposable furniture) to a serious minimum, losing money only in the mobile phone circus.
We moved to Canada. I’ve been frowning a lot. Our belongings are in a moving van somewhere between here and Minneapolis, and while I knew this would be annoying, I thought that knowing that fact would make it more tolerable. We have kept temporary moving waste (plastic forks, disposable furniture) to a serious minimum, losing money only in the mobile phone circus.
Bloom Where You’re Planted
Note: This entry was written originally in January, 2009.
I went to Minnesota for a condensed weekend visit earlier this fall. I was a reluctant participant at work the day after my return, full of homesick yearnings for the gloriously efficient and chilly North Country. “Bloom where you’re planted,” said the owner of the motorcycle shop, so cheerfully that I wanted to crush her. People that are from New Orleans never leave, adding further insult to injury. How could she understand the madness of this place, having never left? She had no comprehension of my pain! I knew she would die before she would live somewhere else. Outrage. I pouted all day, depressed by the heat and dysfunction, and I think she was genuinely confused.
I went to Minnesota for a condensed weekend visit earlier this fall. I was a reluctant participant at work the day after my return, full of homesick yearnings for the gloriously efficient and chilly North Country. “Bloom where you’re planted,” said the owner of the motorcycle shop, so cheerfully that I wanted to crush her. People that are from New Orleans never leave, adding further insult to injury. How could she understand the madness of this place, having never left? She had no comprehension of my pain! I knew she would die before she would live somewhere else. Outrage. I pouted all day, depressed by the heat and dysfunction, and I think she was genuinely confused.
Live Smaller
Note: This entry was written originally in 2008.
I have a new ride. She is black and has two wheels, and she is named Louise. Louise is sleek and Italian and lovely, and my husband and I bought her one recent afternoon in the French Quarter. The quality of my commute has improved, as her wheels handle the considerable potholes of the old streets of New Orleans without leaving me rattled. She has lights and a dainty black basket.
Working at the motorcycle store has been every bit the adventure that I anticipated. The woman that owns it has done a remarkable job building her business, and the men in her life (her husband and two sons) are all thoroughly engaged in running it. Conflicts arise, as they naturally would in any business setting. Since the conflicts affect family members instead of mere colleagues, they take on a slightly more heated tone than do the average water-cooler situations. But the they also laugh with each other, help each other, and enjoy each other. They work really, really hard.
I have a new ride. She is black and has two wheels, and she is named Louise. Louise is sleek and Italian and lovely, and my husband and I bought her one recent afternoon in the French Quarter. The quality of my commute has improved, as her wheels handle the considerable potholes of the old streets of New Orleans without leaving me rattled. She has lights and a dainty black basket.
Working at the motorcycle store has been every bit the adventure that I anticipated. The woman that owns it has done a remarkable job building her business, and the men in her life (her husband and two sons) are all thoroughly engaged in running it. Conflicts arise, as they naturally would in any business setting. Since the conflicts affect family members instead of mere colleagues, they take on a slightly more heated tone than do the average water-cooler situations. But the they also laugh with each other, help each other, and enjoy each other. They work really, really hard.
Ghost
[This entry was written originally in 2008.]
I am paralyzed by Hurricane Gustav. Just like Gustav over Haiti, I have stalled. I don’t normally spook easily but I can’t deny that I feel skittish and frustrated. News articles about evacuation recommend clearing the fridge in order to avoid sticky, rotting messes later. One piece of advice from a reader on the local news website reads: “Pack as though you are never coming back.” Another person posts a piece of advice recommending taking all family vehicles instead of just one. I’m confused and unsure how to proceed, so instead I compulsively check my email and look for new tracks on the storm prediction map. It is too far away to begin packing but it is coming up too quickly for me to put it out of my mind. As a result, I am wandering around the apartment in circles, working on tasks much less pressing than packing insurance paperwork and memorabilia.
I am paralyzed by Hurricane Gustav. Just like Gustav over Haiti, I have stalled. I don’t normally spook easily but I can’t deny that I feel skittish and frustrated. News articles about evacuation recommend clearing the fridge in order to avoid sticky, rotting messes later. One piece of advice from a reader on the local news website reads: “Pack as though you are never coming back.” Another person posts a piece of advice recommending taking all family vehicles instead of just one. I’m confused and unsure how to proceed, so instead I compulsively check my email and look for new tracks on the storm prediction map. It is too far away to begin packing but it is coming up too quickly for me to put it out of my mind. As a result, I am wandering around the apartment in circles, working on tasks much less pressing than packing insurance paperwork and memorabilia.
A Revolution
Note: This entry was written originally in 2008.
This is the most difficult Houma Report I have ever written, because this is the one in which I tell my parents that I resigned from my respectable teaching job, and instead started working full time at a motorcycle dealership. [Holding my breath right now and waiting for the screaming sounds]
Hear me out, that’s all I ask.
I was going to write about the alligators on the swamp tour, or the adventure of participating in a deep South wedding, or the utter ridiculousness of the New Orleans DMV experience during my recent effort to get a Louisiana driver’s license, but then life interfered and brought me an unexpected treat, so now I am writing about that.
This is the most difficult Houma Report I have ever written, because this is the one in which I tell my parents that I resigned from my respectable teaching job, and instead started working full time at a motorcycle dealership. [Holding my breath right now and waiting for the screaming sounds]
Hear me out, that’s all I ask.
I was going to write about the alligators on the swamp tour, or the adventure of participating in a deep South wedding, or the utter ridiculousness of the New Orleans DMV experience during my recent effort to get a Louisiana driver’s license, but then life interfered and brought me an unexpected treat, so now I am writing about that.
Easy Come, Easy Go
Note: This entry was written originally in 2008.
Forget much of what was written in volume 9…remember that I got engaged and married, but forget the part about moving back to Minnesota. We did move back to Minnesota, but if you blinked, you may have missed it. Part of me is tempted to pretend like it never happened, because we feel a touch sheepish for the outrageous plan changing…moving to New Orleans after going home to St. Paul is a rapid reversal, even for us.
On the other hand, I think we just have to own up to the whole thing, because it may have been bigger than us. We tried to move back to Minnesota. We rented a U-haul; I got some jobs. We settled back into the condo. My husband participated in a monthly cross-country commute for nine months. But in the dead of winter, with no promising job prospects for him in Minnesota, we began to view his current job with a new appreciation. Minnesota is important to us, and always will be, but we could not find a job there to compete with his current one. He is paid well to do something that challenging and engaging. Not to mention that it may take us out of the country for a while, which we ultimately decided was worth further short-term reshuffling. Finally, living at opposite sides of the country was not proving a fruitful way to cement our newly official partnership.
Forget much of what was written in volume 9…remember that I got engaged and married, but forget the part about moving back to Minnesota. We did move back to Minnesota, but if you blinked, you may have missed it. Part of me is tempted to pretend like it never happened, because we feel a touch sheepish for the outrageous plan changing…moving to New Orleans after going home to St. Paul is a rapid reversal, even for us.
On the other hand, I think we just have to own up to the whole thing, because it may have been bigger than us. We tried to move back to Minnesota. We rented a U-haul; I got some jobs. We settled back into the condo. My husband participated in a monthly cross-country commute for nine months. But in the dead of winter, with no promising job prospects for him in Minnesota, we began to view his current job with a new appreciation. Minnesota is important to us, and always will be, but we could not find a job there to compete with his current one. He is paid well to do something that challenging and engaging. Not to mention that it may take us out of the country for a while, which we ultimately decided was worth further short-term reshuffling. Finally, living at opposite sides of the country was not proving a fruitful way to cement our newly official partnership.
Special Edition
Editor Note: This entry was written originally in 2007.
I'm still here. Not exactly here, not in Houma, but here, on the map. A flurry of activity…a move…an engagement…a vacation…a job search.
I'm here, back in St. Paul, and thrilled about it. It sounds funny when I just reviewed the last Houma Report and realized that the last time I wrote, we were on the New Orleans plan. Mostly the real estate market decided that one for us. If you have an empty house, common sense kind of dictates maybe you should live in it. Since we had that in St. Paul, and not in New Orleans, we went with that. And anyway, that has turned out to be a great thing.
I'm still here. Not exactly here, not in Houma, but here, on the map. A flurry of activity…a move…an engagement…a vacation…a job search.
I'm here, back in St. Paul, and thrilled about it. It sounds funny when I just reviewed the last Houma Report and realized that the last time I wrote, we were on the New Orleans plan. Mostly the real estate market decided that one for us. If you have an empty house, common sense kind of dictates maybe you should live in it. Since we had that in St. Paul, and not in New Orleans, we went with that. And anyway, that has turned out to be a great thing.
How to Be a Highly Mobile Couple
Editor Note: This entry was written originally in 2007.
I’m in hell in Houma. Or maybe I’m not? How do you know? How do you know when life is ridiculous and needs to be boycotted or when you are ridiculous and you just need to suck it up? When my boyfriend and I were preparing to move and I was beginning to explore ways to bring writing more into the forefront of my life, he suggested that I write the guidebook of how to be a highly mobile couple. We were dealing with movers and packing and finding an apartment and a myriad of other random tasks. Although sharing our life was still a new habit, we had in common the urge to simplify, streamline, and downsize, both in our individual lives and together in our home. We share a mutual aversion to piles covering our desks, boxes of trinkets stacked in closets, and too many square feet requiring cleaning and repairs.
At the time, we thought mostly of the spatial and tangible aspects of this plan. How would we fit all of our belongings into a one-bedroom space the size of which I formerly occupied all alone? How many shelves would be required? How would we decide whose teapot to use? How would we dispose of the extra stuff? I gave little thought to the shedding of emotional and geographical baggage linked quietly to the notion of home. Most of my wise friends and family members could see the challenge of this much before I did, but they likely sensed my lack of interest in hearing their counsel. I had decided I was up for this move and no one would stop me.
I’m in hell in Houma. Or maybe I’m not? How do you know? How do you know when life is ridiculous and needs to be boycotted or when you are ridiculous and you just need to suck it up? When my boyfriend and I were preparing to move and I was beginning to explore ways to bring writing more into the forefront of my life, he suggested that I write the guidebook of how to be a highly mobile couple. We were dealing with movers and packing and finding an apartment and a myriad of other random tasks. Although sharing our life was still a new habit, we had in common the urge to simplify, streamline, and downsize, both in our individual lives and together in our home. We share a mutual aversion to piles covering our desks, boxes of trinkets stacked in closets, and too many square feet requiring cleaning and repairs.
At the time, we thought mostly of the spatial and tangible aspects of this plan. How would we fit all of our belongings into a one-bedroom space the size of which I formerly occupied all alone? How many shelves would be required? How would we decide whose teapot to use? How would we dispose of the extra stuff? I gave little thought to the shedding of emotional and geographical baggage linked quietly to the notion of home. Most of my wise friends and family members could see the challenge of this much before I did, but they likely sensed my lack of interest in hearing their counsel. I had decided I was up for this move and no one would stop me.
Patriots for Christ
Editor Note: This entry was written originally in 2006.
Many of you have asked what it is like teaching in the schools down here. I have avoided writing about it because I am amazed, frustrated, mystified, angered, surprised, and then sometimes, pleased, with what occurs here. As a result, I haven’t known how to describe it. I am Alice in Gator-land, stunned when the people sitting in the same rooms with me aren’t also stunned by what is occurring. I hope this topic does not bore, as it is always on my mind while I go about my life here.
Finally, in my fourth year of teaching, I’m learning how to be rebellious. Those of you closest to my daily life know that I squawk a lot. I squawked the entire time that I taught in a high school fantastic school. Now that I teach in a school situated in a community which values formal education hardly at all, I understand why many of my colleagues felt I was overreacting in the past.
Many of you have asked what it is like teaching in the schools down here. I have avoided writing about it because I am amazed, frustrated, mystified, angered, surprised, and then sometimes, pleased, with what occurs here. As a result, I haven’t known how to describe it. I am Alice in Gator-land, stunned when the people sitting in the same rooms with me aren’t also stunned by what is occurring. I hope this topic does not bore, as it is always on my mind while I go about my life here.
Finally, in my fourth year of teaching, I’m learning how to be rebellious. Those of you closest to my daily life know that I squawk a lot. I squawked the entire time that I taught in a high school fantastic school. Now that I teach in a school situated in a community which values formal education hardly at all, I understand why many of my colleagues felt I was overreacting in the past.
An Eight on the FDLS
Note: This entry was written originally in 2006.
October was a busy month, full of work issues and continued settling in. All of the sudden it is November and we are surprised by this because the weather is still largely in the 70s. I was also surprised last week to find out that my boyfriend and I were invited to a banquet in New Orleans Friday night, to celebrate his five-year anniversary with his company. We would be able to expense the travel costs and stay overnight in a hotel room on the company tab. This was too much excitement for me…an all-expenses paid trip into the city AND I would get to dress up?!?!?! Fabulous.
October was a busy month, full of work issues and continued settling in. All of the sudden it is November and we are surprised by this because the weather is still largely in the 70s. I was also surprised last week to find out that my boyfriend and I were invited to a banquet in New Orleans Friday night, to celebrate his five-year anniversary with his company. We would be able to expense the travel costs and stay overnight in a hotel room on the company tab. This was too much excitement for me…an all-expenses paid trip into the city AND I would get to dress up?!?!?! Fabulous.
Gator-Tater Salad
Editor Note: This entry was written originally in 2006.
It seems the Louisiana sun has permanently altered my personal thermostat. Last week I was enjoying the pleasant cool front when I noticed the weather report. 81 degrees (F) with 39 percent humidity.
For some time now, I’ve wanted to write about the fun parts of living in the swamp. I got stuck for awhile; a version of writer’s block, I suppose. Given a multitude of frustrations at work and the persistent 100-degree (F) steam bath weather when it was supposed to have been growing crackly and chilly outside put me in a sour humor for a few weeks. And that was before my boyfriend found a dead lizard under our living room rug. As a result, even though fun things have happened, I wasn’t in any mood to reflect on them. I was too busy wallowing. However, the pity party is coming to a close now, and I can’t deny that we are having a little fun in spite of feeling occasionally sorry for ourselves.
It seems the Louisiana sun has permanently altered my personal thermostat. Last week I was enjoying the pleasant cool front when I noticed the weather report. 81 degrees (F) with 39 percent humidity.
For some time now, I’ve wanted to write about the fun parts of living in the swamp. I got stuck for awhile; a version of writer’s block, I suppose. Given a multitude of frustrations at work and the persistent 100-degree (F) steam bath weather when it was supposed to have been growing crackly and chilly outside put me in a sour humor for a few weeks. And that was before my boyfriend found a dead lizard under our living room rug. As a result, even though fun things have happened, I wasn’t in any mood to reflect on them. I was too busy wallowing. However, the pity party is coming to a close now, and I can’t deny that we are having a little fun in spite of feeling occasionally sorry for ourselves.
A Perfectly Good Life
Editor Note: This entry was written originally in 2006.
The movers arrived, depositing a household worth of belongings into our little downsized apartment life. My boyfriend was still happily fluffing about in northern regions, sounding buoyant from his fishing excursion in Alaska. I made it clear to him that he was not welcome back into this crowded abode without fresh Alaskan salmon and ample champagne.
The thing is, I have been lucky. In spite of my occasional grumbling, life has been good to me. Kind, talented, resourceful parents provided me solid educational opportunities. I have lovely friends and have lived in comfortable, safe, secure homes. And yet, some part of my genetic code is askew. I will not point any fingers here and I am not planning to lay blame. I am merely observing that I have, on multiple occasions, left a perfectly good life behind me in order to leap into completely unknown, and frequently insane, territory. Something in my DNA does not appear to permit me to accept comfortable routines for more than a few years.
The movers arrived, depositing a household worth of belongings into our little downsized apartment life. My boyfriend was still happily fluffing about in northern regions, sounding buoyant from his fishing excursion in Alaska. I made it clear to him that he was not welcome back into this crowded abode without fresh Alaskan salmon and ample champagne.
The thing is, I have been lucky. In spite of my occasional grumbling, life has been good to me. Kind, talented, resourceful parents provided me solid educational opportunities. I have lovely friends and have lived in comfortable, safe, secure homes. And yet, some part of my genetic code is askew. I will not point any fingers here and I am not planning to lay blame. I am merely observing that I have, on multiple occasions, left a perfectly good life behind me in order to leap into completely unknown, and frequently insane, territory. Something in my DNA does not appear to permit me to accept comfortable routines for more than a few years.
I Have No Conscience
Editor Note: This entry was written originally in 2006.
I am sitting by my window, watching a storm unleash buckets of rain upon the always-saturated earth. The apartment is quiet without power, but I still have one or two hours of daylight and almost two hours of juice on my laptop battery. It’s a good storm; even Bean-The-Unruffled is skittering around nervously. I have the door to the porch open because only in a downpour like this is it possible to allow such a thing; the rest of the time the critter-bugs would flock. Today it was 97 with a heat index of 111. The crazy thing is that no one was talking about it, just another spring day here. I wilted.
I am sitting by my window, watching a storm unleash buckets of rain upon the always-saturated earth. The apartment is quiet without power, but I still have one or two hours of daylight and almost two hours of juice on my laptop battery. It’s a good storm; even Bean-The-Unruffled is skittering around nervously. I have the door to the porch open because only in a downpour like this is it possible to allow such a thing; the rest of the time the critter-bugs would flock. Today it was 97 with a heat index of 111. The crazy thing is that no one was talking about it, just another spring day here. I wilted.
We Are Snobs
Editor Note: This entry was written originally in 2006.
I came to Louisiana brimming with Yankee snobbery, fully prepared to make fun of nearly everything here, and instead I find myself frequently charmed and intrigued. It’s a very strange feeling. I was particularly unprepared to be impressed by anything I saw happening in schools. The rest of the country looks at Louisiana with derision, as far as education and other institutions are concerned. I felt sure that my school would be an utter disaster.
Instead, I see a school working hard to do what is expected of them. I see discipline and order, students in uniforms and staff writing lesson plans according to current research. This week the majority of my work energy was spent learning names (of students and staff), procedures, curriculum, and all other bits pertinent to educating students. I do not believe that I can form an accurate picture of the performance of a school in one week by teaching one section a day, but I can say that I have so far seen little at which to poke fun. As far as I can tell at this point, they are missing only two things: resources and interest in a lifestyle which would necessitate higher education. Many lifestyle choices made by the people in this community do not require higher education. If students don’t need college, why would they push themselves in school?
I came to Louisiana brimming with Yankee snobbery, fully prepared to make fun of nearly everything here, and instead I find myself frequently charmed and intrigued. It’s a very strange feeling. I was particularly unprepared to be impressed by anything I saw happening in schools. The rest of the country looks at Louisiana with derision, as far as education and other institutions are concerned. I felt sure that my school would be an utter disaster.
Instead, I see a school working hard to do what is expected of them. I see discipline and order, students in uniforms and staff writing lesson plans according to current research. This week the majority of my work energy was spent learning names (of students and staff), procedures, curriculum, and all other bits pertinent to educating students. I do not believe that I can form an accurate picture of the performance of a school in one week by teaching one section a day, but I can say that I have so far seen little at which to poke fun. As far as I can tell at this point, they are missing only two things: resources and interest in a lifestyle which would necessitate higher education. Many lifestyle choices made by the people in this community do not require higher education. If students don’t need college, why would they push themselves in school?
July 08, 2011
Palm Trees Do Not Equal Vacation
I’m experiencing culture shock. Several people on Thursday and Friday asked me how I like Houma and I don’t know how to respond to this. It is completely impossible to pass judgment on a place within 24 hours and even if I could why would anyone want me to? Nothing good could come of that.
I’ve noticed that I’m coping with the culture shock by imagining that I’m in another country. I wonder if the locals would find that unpatriotic. But come on…there are palm trees here. Minnesotans only see palm trees on vacation. This reality combined with the sub-tropical temperatures led me to believe I was on vacation until I arrived at new teacher orientation (known here as “induction”). Vacations about which I dream do not include sample lesson plans (with a recommendation to use a timer) or a handout detailing the statewide curriculum. So, I guess I’m not on vacation.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)