Well, actually, I did cut my hair. Not radically or anything, but it had really been since last summer and since I've been all academic and unemployed these past months, I've had no inclination to be pretty or anything, since I'm so smart and unemployed. So the hair was kinda unruly.
I had told myself that I should keep growing it, then donate it to Locks of Love or Pantene Beautiful Lengths. I thought about it a lot, really. I could do so much good by just growing hair. Just ten or so inches, which I have to give, would mean something wonderful to a sick child or woman battling cancer.
The truth is that in the end, I'm much too vain. Can I possibly be all about the hair?
I have no trouble making fun of the challenges that supermodels have in life, and I didn't join in the sport of making fun of Hillary's pantsuits. I'm all about substance - that style thing is superficial. Still, I just can't quite bring myself to give up this one physical attribute I have. I don't trust that I can rely on my brain and wit to get me through. If I have homely hair, I can't possibly be successful. Even if it meant that a small sacrifice can do good for others.
Really, it's only hair. Right?
Don't get me started on Jeff's hair.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Job Skills
Just took an online typing test and found, after three tries, I can type 75 words a minute. I'm actually old enough to remember when that was an important number to know.
I was compelled to find out my number because I applied for a federal job online and it said I couldn't finish the online application if I couldn't type more than 40 words per minute. I was thinking that if it was an online application, it could be equipped to measure that while it's being completed. I also found an error in their online questionnaire and tried to write to someone to let them know, explaining in detail how it might impact their ability to identify high-quality candidates for the position. I actually wrote to three different people, appropriately following their directions to use the proper link in case I had questions or comments about the online application process.
They were more concerned with my typing skills than they were my "critical thinking" and "attention to detail" skills...
I also had an exchange with the nice woman from the unemployment office (no - "career center") who e-mailed me to mention that I hadn't stopped in to use their service and could they help? So I sent a smartass reply that explained that I worked for the last 18 years as a hiring manager and was about to get a Master's degree, have excellent research abilities and can't imagine that this office knows something I don't about job searches. Then I called the next day to apologize for being a smartass, chatted with her for a while and she invited me to consider attending the Professional Networking sessions they have on Tuesday afternoons. I immediately asked her how pathetic they were, since I imagined men in white oxford shirts with pocket protectors and briefcases with nothing but a pen and post-its in them whining about how potential employers (and girls) don't recognize how valuable they are. Like a 12-step program for those who are overeducated and underemployed.
Then I related this to my final work for grad school - which is an exploration of why the Supreme Court thinks that people who take care of people aren't worthy of basic employment protection like, oh I dunno, a minimum wage. The people who keep disabled children safe and make sure elderly grandmothers have eaten once or twice today. That bathe and talk to and give medicine and, you know, care about people who can't care for themselves. So if I can type 75 words a minute, what does that make me worth? How do we create a measurement of care?
But 75 WPM is good, isnt' it?
I was compelled to find out my number because I applied for a federal job online and it said I couldn't finish the online application if I couldn't type more than 40 words per minute. I was thinking that if it was an online application, it could be equipped to measure that while it's being completed. I also found an error in their online questionnaire and tried to write to someone to let them know, explaining in detail how it might impact their ability to identify high-quality candidates for the position. I actually wrote to three different people, appropriately following their directions to use the proper link in case I had questions or comments about the online application process.
They were more concerned with my typing skills than they were my "critical thinking" and "attention to detail" skills...
I also had an exchange with the nice woman from the unemployment office (no - "career center") who e-mailed me to mention that I hadn't stopped in to use their service and could they help? So I sent a smartass reply that explained that I worked for the last 18 years as a hiring manager and was about to get a Master's degree, have excellent research abilities and can't imagine that this office knows something I don't about job searches. Then I called the next day to apologize for being a smartass, chatted with her for a while and she invited me to consider attending the Professional Networking sessions they have on Tuesday afternoons. I immediately asked her how pathetic they were, since I imagined men in white oxford shirts with pocket protectors and briefcases with nothing but a pen and post-its in them whining about how potential employers (and girls) don't recognize how valuable they are. Like a 12-step program for those who are overeducated and underemployed.
Then I related this to my final work for grad school - which is an exploration of why the Supreme Court thinks that people who take care of people aren't worthy of basic employment protection like, oh I dunno, a minimum wage. The people who keep disabled children safe and make sure elderly grandmothers have eaten once or twice today. That bathe and talk to and give medicine and, you know, care about people who can't care for themselves. So if I can type 75 words a minute, what does that make me worth? How do we create a measurement of care?
But 75 WPM is good, isnt' it?
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Mean Girls
We've been trying to make sense of this story from South Hadley of a 15 year old Irish girl hanging herself after being tormented by the gaggle of mean girls in her school.
She decided that death was better than living through that.
Really, I don't know what she decided and wouldn't presume to.
Still, watching the country change - seeing the republican party in all of their smarminess - "it's all about me" culture emerge. Greed, power, selfishness.
What would Howard Zinn be trying to teach us?
I know that when things get rough, we all start protecting our turf. But the "real housewives of orange county" are just the South Hadley mean girls in middle age. All Botoxed. And we watch (actually, I don't watch - it's the commercials during the West Wing reruns on Bravo). And we watch. And affirm. And approve. And support. And compensate - greatly.
Grad school has taught me brainy stuff, like economic theory, that talks about "externalities' which are those things that are not captured in the price of something. So if we consider that creating a show, like "stupid women with botox and no brains who like chaos" it means that Bravo paid stupid women to participate, expecting that the network would generate revenue from people watching, but the externality is what other consequences are that won't be reflected in the financial transaction. What about the impression given to 11-year-olds who think this is the way to act? Or the 11-year-olds who are the victims of their meanness?
I'm not into censorship - don't get the wrong impression - I just get disappointed in what we value. Mothers might consider sitting with their daughters and using these crappy shows as examples of how not to act. And embrace opportunities to step in when people are being mean to other people. We've all been the kid who is different - because we wore the wrong jeans or were the wrong size or whose parents drove the wrong car. Or dated the geeky guy because we liked his poetry or because he was too nice for the Mean Girls. The geeky guys sometimes turn out to be wonderful husbands and fathers.
There's no making sense of the Mean Girls. We just have to insist that they're not cool.
They're not cool.
They're mean. And need to understand the consequences.
She decided that death was better than living through that.
Really, I don't know what she decided and wouldn't presume to.
Still, watching the country change - seeing the republican party in all of their smarminess - "it's all about me" culture emerge. Greed, power, selfishness.
What would Howard Zinn be trying to teach us?
I know that when things get rough, we all start protecting our turf. But the "real housewives of orange county" are just the South Hadley mean girls in middle age. All Botoxed. And we watch (actually, I don't watch - it's the commercials during the West Wing reruns on Bravo). And we watch. And affirm. And approve. And support. And compensate - greatly.
Grad school has taught me brainy stuff, like economic theory, that talks about "externalities' which are those things that are not captured in the price of something. So if we consider that creating a show, like "stupid women with botox and no brains who like chaos" it means that Bravo paid stupid women to participate, expecting that the network would generate revenue from people watching, but the externality is what other consequences are that won't be reflected in the financial transaction. What about the impression given to 11-year-olds who think this is the way to act? Or the 11-year-olds who are the victims of their meanness?
I'm not into censorship - don't get the wrong impression - I just get disappointed in what we value. Mothers might consider sitting with their daughters and using these crappy shows as examples of how not to act. And embrace opportunities to step in when people are being mean to other people. We've all been the kid who is different - because we wore the wrong jeans or were the wrong size or whose parents drove the wrong car. Or dated the geeky guy because we liked his poetry or because he was too nice for the Mean Girls. The geeky guys sometimes turn out to be wonderful husbands and fathers.
There's no making sense of the Mean Girls. We just have to insist that they're not cool.
They're not cool.
They're mean. And need to understand the consequences.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
State of the Union
O.k.- since we last spoke:
I remain unemployed.
Jeff is unemployed - no - employed - no, part-time - no, definitely unemployed - no, safe after all.
Raytheon sucks - see above.
Massachusetts filled Ted Kennedy's seat with a republican.
Massachusetts Democratic party sucks - see above.
I picked a topic for the most important project I will ever do in my graduate school life.
I changed my topic.
I had a great meeting with a professor to focus the topic.
I had a meeting just after that meeting with a professor I respect who beat up my topic.
Beloved former boss called with a job offer.
Job offer likely to be rescinded on a technicality.
Howard Zinn died.
I want to change my topic in honor of Howard Zinn.
The President thinks I should remain hopeful...
I remain unemployed.
Jeff is unemployed - no - employed - no, part-time - no, definitely unemployed - no, safe after all.
Raytheon sucks - see above.
Massachusetts filled Ted Kennedy's seat with a republican.
Massachusetts Democratic party sucks - see above.
I picked a topic for the most important project I will ever do in my graduate school life.
I changed my topic.
I had a great meeting with a professor to focus the topic.
I had a meeting just after that meeting with a professor I respect who beat up my topic.
Beloved former boss called with a job offer.
Job offer likely to be rescinded on a technicality.
Howard Zinn died.
I want to change my topic in honor of Howard Zinn.
The President thinks I should remain hopeful...
Monday, December 14, 2009
No Fair!
This is Cassidy telling me that the next time I run off to have fun at the Cape for the weekend, I better bring her, too.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Lifeboats
So this is the last week of classes, before final exam week. This means that all of my beloved classmates have the deer-in-the-headlight look, aren't sleeping enough and are displaying signs of mood disorders.
It's really wonderful.
We're all just barely above the water - we all have final projects, which means final standing up in front of the class and discussing our brilliant thoughts about important things. The problem is that the people in the class are really smart - and will ask questions and have opinions that they will share. Outloud.
But this feeling of solidarity - we're all in this together spirit - is just so wonderful. I've had a number of misty-eyed moments this week, as people are checking in, cheerleading, offering salty-sweet-fatty snacks and diet coke's. There've been hugs, motivating comments on facebook walls, late night chats and e-mail check-ins. We're meeting on campus, working quietly in rooms together - just to share the experience with the only others who get it.
I didn't have the opportunity to go away to college just after high school -I'm a forty-something grad student having the college experience for the first time and, painful as it is, loving every moment. I'm doing my best to savor all of it - good and bad - and knowing that it will end far too soon. I'm tired, elated, near tears, sore, intimidated, confident, scared and feeling very, very blessed.
And I know a lot of stuff. Ask me anything.
It's really wonderful.
We're all just barely above the water - we all have final projects, which means final standing up in front of the class and discussing our brilliant thoughts about important things. The problem is that the people in the class are really smart - and will ask questions and have opinions that they will share. Outloud.
But this feeling of solidarity - we're all in this together spirit - is just so wonderful. I've had a number of misty-eyed moments this week, as people are checking in, cheerleading, offering salty-sweet-fatty snacks and diet coke's. There've been hugs, motivating comments on facebook walls, late night chats and e-mail check-ins. We're meeting on campus, working quietly in rooms together - just to share the experience with the only others who get it.
I didn't have the opportunity to go away to college just after high school -I'm a forty-something grad student having the college experience for the first time and, painful as it is, loving every moment. I'm doing my best to savor all of it - good and bad - and knowing that it will end far too soon. I'm tired, elated, near tears, sore, intimidated, confident, scared and feeling very, very blessed.
And I know a lot of stuff. Ask me anything.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Transgressions
Wow - Tiger.
I don't know why this train wreck keeps my attention, but there it is.
What is it about folks that maintain this outward image, but then act in ways contrary to what they want people to believe?
Good thing I'm not like that.
Well, I suppose if I was being perfectly honest, I would admit that when I appear very confident and know I am completely correct, I don't really believe it 100%. Or when I seem angry it's really that I'm afraid or unsure or lost. Or when I shrug and say that's o.k., I really want to say it's not, but don't want to hurt someone's feelings. But even with all that stuff, I can still look at myself in the mirror most days.
Tiger has more talent than most people could ever wish for, and has done a great deal of good with his incredible wealth. He's also hurt and disappointed more people that most of us could ever come close to and no amount of talent or money can make that o.k. His kids will, before too long, be old enough to look up all this junk on the internet and find out this stuff about their father. He can't take that back.
So I guess I want to remember that sometimes there are things we can do or say that we can never take back. Some of those things are no big deal, but others are huge. I'm reminding myself to make sure the things I say or do that I can't take back are things I'm proud of or things that make others know they're loved or safe or special.
I'm working on it anyway.
I don't know why this train wreck keeps my attention, but there it is.
What is it about folks that maintain this outward image, but then act in ways contrary to what they want people to believe?
Good thing I'm not like that.
Well, I suppose if I was being perfectly honest, I would admit that when I appear very confident and know I am completely correct, I don't really believe it 100%. Or when I seem angry it's really that I'm afraid or unsure or lost. Or when I shrug and say that's o.k., I really want to say it's not, but don't want to hurt someone's feelings. But even with all that stuff, I can still look at myself in the mirror most days.
Tiger has more talent than most people could ever wish for, and has done a great deal of good with his incredible wealth. He's also hurt and disappointed more people that most of us could ever come close to and no amount of talent or money can make that o.k. His kids will, before too long, be old enough to look up all this junk on the internet and find out this stuff about their father. He can't take that back.
So I guess I want to remember that sometimes there are things we can do or say that we can never take back. Some of those things are no big deal, but others are huge. I'm reminding myself to make sure the things I say or do that I can't take back are things I'm proud of or things that make others know they're loved or safe or special.
I'm working on it anyway.
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