The University I would love to attend has a way to track your graduate school application online. This is great but infuriating… especially since it was all submitted weeks ago and things aren’t showing up as completed.
In fact, it took a week for my personal statement to show up “Complete” after I submitted it electronically. So, call my crazy, but I hadn’t been worried that it showed my undergrad transcripts as incomplete even though I confirmed with my college that they had been sent January 8.
My deadline to be considered for an assistantship (aka JOB where they PAY ME to attend school) is February 15. Which happens to be President’s Day, so essentially it needs to be completed by FRIDAY. Which would have been fine, right? All my stuff has been submitted to my knowledge.
I called the University today to inquire about the missing transcripts on my to-do list. I was told, No, they had not been received.
Fuck.
I called my college again, my little tiny liberal arts college nestled in a little city… “I know you said my transcripts were submitted January 8 but the University never received them.” So, apparently the college needs a name to address the transcripts to in order to resend them. Which would be fine, except I asked the University for a name and they gave me an institution number.
Because I cried on the phone in frustration with my alma mater about my stupid transcripts, she offered to call the University herself.
How did this go so wrong? I played by the rules, I got everything submitted in a timely matter, I worked my butt off for the GRE and my written statement… and now? I’m being screwed over because my transcripts got lost in the mail.
I don’t understand the fuster cluck that is higher education. I don’t understand why it is so hard to further my education, to be accepted to a program I want so badly, to start fresh in order to lead the life I’ve finally decided I want to lead. I need the U.S. Postal Service on my side this week. And I need the poor interns in the Admissions department to buck up and put my transcripts on the right desk.
(The thing is, I trust my alma mater, I trust that my transcripts were sent and received the second week of January. I’m certain they’re sitting in the wrong pile or on the wrong person’s desk and no one knows it yet.)
So I’m frustrated. And I’m nervous. And I just want to know what I’m doing with the rest of my life. I feel like I’m standing on the ledge of a pool and I really want to jump in to refresh myself but I need permission.
I’m nearing the end of my 30 Day Guide to Living Life on Purpose. Even though Stratejoy graciously donated their services to me as part of their 20sb Blog Tour, I’m getting way more out of it than just another free product. Yesterday, as part of my third audio session, I worked out some of my Big Life Goals. And, in understanding my Big Life Goals, I’ve also penned a few little life goals for the next year. And, in penning my little life goals, I’ve also come up with three mini-goals to help me achieve my little life goals. Do you follow?
I’ll walk through the explanations of each in this post and I’ll keep track of all my goals and my work towards each one on a new page so you can all hold me accountable!
Top Six Most Vital Big Dreams
- Achieve an overall feeling of calm/zen.
- Cultivate a happy, supportive marriage.
- Excel in my career field.
- Work and get paid on my own time.
- Take yearly vacations and travel more in general.
- Earn a comfortable salary and manage my money wisely.
Goals For the Next Year (to be completed by February 2011):
1. Travel more
1a. Take a real vacation with Joe that is more or less a week long.
1b. Road trip somewhere in the midwest with one of my girlfriends.
1c. Go to Vegas again for another epic blogger convention.
2. Excel in my field
2a. Get into graduate school.
2b. Maintain a B or better in every class.
2c. Earn an award for school or my writing.
2d. (conditional) If I’m not yet attending classes, then publish and get paid for at least ten articles.
3. Budget responsibly
3a. Have more in our checking and savings accounts than on our credit cards (after bills).
3b. Don’t work a second job while in graduate school.
3c. Spend less than $100/week on groceries.
No one asked me to post this. I’ve been a member of Idealist.org for a few years and, though I’ve never found a job or internship through it, I’ve considered it an incredible resource and starting point. I can’t contribute financially but maybe you can. This is the email I received this weekend.
You know how sometimes in life you go through a bad moment, and when your friends hear about it later, they say, “Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you ask? We would have helped.”
That’s where Idealist is now, and I am writing to ask for your help.
Very briefly, here’s what happened. Over the past ten years, most of our funding has come from the small fees we charge organizations for posting their jobs on Idealist. By September 2008, after years of steady growth, these little drops were covering 70% of our budget.
Then, in October of that year, the financial crisis exploded, many organizations understandably froze their hiring, and from one week to the next our earned income was cut almost in half, leaving us with a hole of more than $100,000 each month.
That was 16 months ago, and since then we’ve survived on faith and fumes, by cutting expenses, and by getting a few large gifts from new and old friends. But now we are about to hit a wall, and this is why I am reaching out to you.
If over the past 15 years Idealist has helped you or a friend find a job, an internship or a volunteer opportunity; connect with a person, an idea or a resource; or just feel inspired for a moment, now we need your help. I wouldn’t be asking, and not like this, if this were not a critical time.
There are two ways you can help. First, if you can, please make a donation at: http://www.idealist.org/donate
Some people in this community are not in a position to contribute right now, so if you are, please give as generously as you can. Thank you!
Second, please spread the word about this appeal by sharing this message with friends and colleagues who may have benefited from Idealist over the years. Since 1995 Idealist has touched hundreds of thousands of lives. If in the next week or two we can reach everyone who’d give us a hand if they knew we are in trouble, I believe we’ll come out of this crisis even stronger than before.
I believe this because while this has been a tough stretch, I’ve never been more optimistic about the future. The content on Idealist has never been richer, our traffic is surging, we are building a whole new Idealist.org that will be released later this year, and the potential for connecting people, ideas, and resources around the world has never been more urgent or more exciting.
Your contribution will allow us to maintain all our services, and it will also give us some time to diversify our funding. Being able to breathe, recover, and plan ahead for a few months will be an incredible blessing.
Thanks so much for your support. Idealist has always been a community-driven site, and we can’t do this work without you.
Thank you!
Ami Dar
Executive Director
http://www.idealist.org/donate
The Gaffe
Nearly four weeks ago, Renee arranged for three letters of recommendation to be sent to the graduate school of her choice. On Friday, she discovered paperwork that was to be sent in with each letter. Frantically, she emailed her recommenders and calmly freaked out.
They will be resubmitting their letters.
Application fail.
The Couch
Joe and Renee moved into a new (to them) house in November. Thanks to the holidays, it has taken them some time to settle in. Having finally finished up the multitude of unpacking, they decided it is time to begin furnishing the finished-yet-unfurnished basement. But where to begin? Renee spends her days scouring eBay and Craigslist for various deals on furniture but there is a problem: they both drive sedans. However would they get a couch home?
One lazy Sunday, Joe and Renee decide to putz around a nearby town. They hop in their sedan and head down the street. Much to their amusement, on the curb just a block from home sits the ugliest couch in existence with a sign exclaiming “FREE!”
“Hey, there’s a couch!” Renee jokes.
“Do you want it?” Joe asks.
“Well… it is in super nice condition,” Renee begins to consider it.
“Do you want it?” Joe patiently asks again.
“How would we get it home?” Renee asks.
Joe replies easily, “Carry it!”
Renee laughs at the thought. “If it’s still there when we come back, we’ll carry it home.”
Joe and Renee spend a few hours visiting shops and antique stores. They return. The couch still waits on the curb. They trade their bulky winter coats for sweatshirts and change into sneakers.
“Let’s do this,” Renee says.
They walk down the street to where the ugly couch sits. They investigate and affirm that it is indeed in really great condition – no holes, no frays, no stains, and it doesn’t smell. They attempt to lift it. Renee’s back starts to wince under the pressure.
“This isn’t happening,” she finally says.
They head up to the door, intending to ask if they’ll reserve the couch for just another hour or so until they recruit a friend with a truck. A young man in the garage interrupts them.
“Do you need some help?” the young man asks. ER3YU2CFSSYJ
Renee replies, “We were going to carry this home but I think it’s too heavy.”
The young man suggests, “Want me to throw it into my truck and bring it over?”
And thus, the ugly couch has a new home.
The Card Game
Joe and Renee invited their friends Steph and Jon over for dinner and game night. Renee made chili and Steph brought chocolate cake. They played Blokus and Phase 10 until nearly midnight.
The jokes were aplenty but started to get a little sexist. Renee mentioned this, gestured to her bookcase, and said, “Let’s take a moment to read some of my women’s studies books.”
Jon, seeing an opportunity on the bookshelf, replies, “The Joy of Cooking?”
Zing.
When asked if I’d be willing to review Government Girl and host its author, Stacy Parker Aab, you would’ve thought I had won the lottery. The moment was up there with the email I received almost exactly two years ago asking if I’d like to drive Chelsea Clinton in her father’s motorcade. Sometimes, when I need them most, really cool things happen to me.
I knew I was going to love Stacy’s book just from its description. A young woman working in the Clinton administration, tackling issues of sexism, scandal, and growing up? Oh hell yes, sign me up. Stacy makes writing about the difficult presidency seem effortless and even effervescent. She worked for Paul Begala? Psh, no big deal, it’s not like he’s on CNN all the time or anything.
Government Girl filled the gaping hole that “The West Wing” had left in my White House-hungry heart. It made me realize that Josh Lyman is TOTALLY the George Stephanopoulos of the Bartlet administration.
I adored every minute of Stacy’s experience working as an intern, being hired as White House staff, and paving the way for an impressive, successful life outside Pennsylvania Avenue. I adored the story so much that I’m handing over my blog to the author today for a little Q&A session.
You spent your first birthday away from home hanging out in the Roosevelt Room with George Stephanopoulos and President Clinton. Can we see the picture from that day?
I know you’re jealous of my hair and outfit… that’s George in the background.
You write: “The trouble with girls is that we don’t always know our power.” How would you suggest we harness this power?
First, recognize you have power. Too many of us think that just because we’re female and lacking in brute strength, or because we’re racial minorities or come from working-class backgrounds that this means we don’t have power. By virtue of being alive and having that God speck in your heart, you have a baseline of beauty, period. But you have to recognize this. Men and women get into trouble because they don’t recognize their strengths in a given situation.
It’s interesting how this plays out at work. Women often work hard, but they don’t go for promotions. They don’t ask for raises. They suffer from what I like to call Good Girl-itis. They sit back, silent, waiting to be recognized. The problem becomes this: if you wait for what falls in your lap, you’re waiting to fit into somebody else’s plans. You have to learn how to figure out what you want, and once you do, talk to people who have achieved similar goals, and map out a way forward.
Another “power” problem is when we push ourselves on each other in sexual ways. Sometimes we know what we’re doing, but sometimes we don’t—or we’re coyly aware of it, but feel cheated in some other part of our life so we rationalize our pushiness as OK. Every time I turn on the TV, I see pretty little vixens who use and abuse and act like this is the best way to be a power player. I can imagine some young women watch these characters and think that’s the only way to get ahead. Well, maybe that way of life works for some folks. But I advise against it. Why? Because if you live like that, you’ll be facing that karma every single day of your life. You will be used and abused as well, and probably in spectacular fashion. Why perpetuate that kind of negativity? Luckily I worked around people who showed me that you could be a good, helpful person and still get ahead in politics. You didn’t have to manipulate, or exploit your sexuality to be powerful.
Though it’s not exactly a tell-all book, did you have to go through any kinds of White House approval processes? I mean, I love our government, but I wonder how “Big Brother” it is sometimes…
No. Maybe if I’d had a higher security clearance, or exposed intelligence reports or national security decisionmaking it would have been a different case. However, I did share chapters and galleys with several people who are in the book. I did want to hear if they thought I got anything wrong, or if they had issues with how they were portrayed.
What was your most excruciating experience in Washington? We understand that when the Lewinsky scandal broke, there was a sense of “head-down-barrel-through” but aside from that, were there ever days where you just wanted to pack your bags and fly home? What made you stay?
Actually, my worst experience had nothing to do with Monica Lewinsky or any of the scandals that plagued the administration: my pain was self-inflicted. In the chapter “Truth, Lies & Background Checks” I wrote about being caught in a lie during my second FBI background check.
I went through the FBI process twice: once when I was 18, and again when I was 23. The second time, I was proud to be truthful, thinking it was the right thing to do. When asked about drug use, I provided the details of each time I had experimented in high school. I submitted my forms and thought no more of it—or at least thought, well, if I got in trouble, at least I was honest. The worst consequences are for those who lie and get caught.
But what I forgot was that when I was 18, I had not been as forthcoming. I fudged my answers. Drug use could be a deal-breaker and I was scared of losing this unbelievable new opportunity I had: a White House internship in the West Wing. So I had lied the first time around—but forgot all about it. And the FBI agents caught it. I was questioned and I was in shock, for not only did I suddenly risk both jail time and job loss, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember how I’d answered the question back in 1993. My memory shut down. It wasn’t until years later did I remember what really happened, and how I had lied to protect my internship.
The FBI and the White House Counsel’s office let me off with a stern warning. But before I knew this was would happen, I was scared to death. Would I be charged with lying to investigators? Would I lose my job, and do so in disgrace? The only reason I survived my fear was because I felt the deep support of my mother, my friends, and of my boss Paul Begala. No one made me feel that because I made this awful mistake that I would lose their love, their friendship, or their kindness. That meant the world to me, and gave me the confidence to know that even if I was in trouble, at some fundamental level, I would be OK. I would not be lost. I was able to go back to work and keep performing.
One last note: I often get asked whether or not I would go back and change anything about my White House experience. I flashback to being grilled by the FBI agent and think, yes, I would like to take my fudged answers back. But in the next moment, I think no. I can’t do that. Why? Because it was through this experience that I learned my most crucial White House lesson: that at any time in your life, you may be called to account for any of your actions. So choose your way wisely. Avoid lying. Avoid fudging. Avoid skimming off the top. It will come back to you and most likely at the worst possible time. Especially in politics.
You describe meeting one of the White House speechwriters and the fact that she, too, was a young woman close to your age. You allude to feelings of inadequacy; you’re a smart woman, too, but you hadn’t moved up the ranks quite so quickly. What advice would you give to twenty-something women who feel they’re too good and too smart in a seemingly dead-end job with so much potential to be recognized?
Man, I was such a hater in that scene! I’ll say this: it can be very hard to keep feelings of professional jealousy in check. Really hard. Especially when you feel trapped in your job.
When you feel stuck, I think the first thing you need to do is clearly assess your situation. Do the people around you see you as an assistant, period, and will never promote you, or are there avenues for advancement? I was jealous of a speechwriter back when I was Paul Begala’s assistant. In Begala’s office, there was no opportunity for promotion off the support staff track because all he needed was an assistant. But in the White House proper, there were definitely opportunities, especially the longer one stuck with the administration: there’s always turnover, and it accelerated the longer the president was in office. People who started off assistants, by administration’s end, had become spokespeople—but they did so by sticking with their work, performing well, and seizing on opportunities as they arose.
So yes, complain and moan to your friends. And don’t feel bad that you get mad when they print salaries and people your age are making more than you. You’re allowed to have your feelings. But as soon as you can, start to formulate goals. Work on an exit strategy. There is no reason for a high-performing 20-something to feel that they have no options, because that simply isn’t true.
Now what, Stacy? You have a lifetime of living already under your belt. Where do you see yourself in 10 years? 20?
Ah…well, let me begin by saying that ever since I left full-time White House work, I’ve had one major goal: to be a full-time writer. I’ve had a lot of crappy temp jobs and I’ve been scarily under-employed trying to give myself enough time and energy to become a decent storyteller. (I have also spent years teaching creative writing to kids, which has honestly been the best work I’ve ever done—not as glam, but just as rewarding as my White House work.) So I’m hoping, praying that I’m now on the cusp of my dream being possible. In ten years, twenty years, I hope you find me writing, and continuing on with my personal projects, such as my Katrina oral history project (www.thekatrinaexperience.net). I also enjoy blogging (www.huffingtonpost.com/stacy-parker-aab), and I hope to keep writing about what concerns me out in the world. As you know, too, I have always dreamed of TV & film, so if I can finally get that script for Mr. Spielberg, maybe now I have some stories worth putting on the screen.
I’d like to end by saying thank you for hosting me, Renee, and that I really enjoy your blog. Keep up the excellent work! Looking forward to seeing where your writing life takes you…
Stacy was an absolute gem to interview. Our email chains went on and on. She is genuinely interested in the stories of others. (I NEVER expected the author of a book I’m reviewing to ask me what MY dreams and goals are!) If this book isn’t right up your alley like it was mine, just know that the author of this book could be your bff any day of the week. Special thanks to TLC Book Tours for hooking my blog up with a copy of this fantastic book. I am flattered and grateful!
Our Plea
Our friend Brandy is a brilliant writer, a wonderful teacher, and a generous friend. And she is in love with a man who has just been diagnosed with multiple myeloma.
We are raising money for the Multiple Myeloma Research Fund in his name. For the price of a cinnamon dolce latte, half-caf, hold the whip, you can be part of an effort to cure a disease that affects approximately 750,000 people worldwide.
Every dollar brings us a dollar closer to a cure. And every donation brings a sliver of hope to a girl who needs all the hope she can get.
Love Harder,
Renee
What You Can Do
- Give. Be part of a worldwide effort to cure a disease that affects approximately 750,000 people worldwide. Every dollar helps.
- Pass it on. Forward this story to five people. Share this blog post. Become our fan on Facebook.
- Love harder. Life is short, love is unbending, and no one knows what could happen next. Tell someone you love them today.
Where Your Money Goes
- The American Institute of Philanthropy recently named The Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation one of the best organizations to give to in terms of their accountability and use of resources.
- By working closely with researchers, clinicians and partners in the biotech and pharmaceutical industry, the MMRF has helped bring multiple myeloma patients four new treatments that are extending lives around the globe.
- The MMRF has advanced twenty Phase I and Phase II clinical trials. They need your support to advance these clinical research programs and accelerate the development of better, more effective treatments.
- The MMRF’s Multiple Myeloma Genomics Initiative recently became the first to sequence the multiple myeloma whole genome in its entirety.
- A whopping 98% of your donation to the MMRF will be used immediately to support high-priority multiple myeloma research.
- With diminishing funding for early stage drug development and the next myeloma treatments not expected to be approved until 2011, the MMRF desperately needs your help.
Brandy’s Story can be found here
DONATE: http://www.loveharder.org
CONTACT: theloveharderfund@gmail.com
FACEBOOK: http://facebook.loveharder.org
MORE INFO: http://www.themmrf.org
I went to college with this girl named Megan. And this post is influenced by having recently facebook-stalked the crap out of Megan. But I’ve always admired this girl.
She lived across the hall from me my freshman year… at least, until I moved out because I lived with Jessica Simpson (ugghhh). But even though she was a good friend of my roommate’s, Megan and I could still maturely discuss some of the issues I was having with Jessica Simpson while doing laundry in the basement. It was never catty, always constructive.
Megan and I were never close. We were in the choir together for three years, but we never hung out outside of that and we were definitely never besties (though, we did share a few hotel beds on our choir tours). There was just SOMETHING that radiated from Megan. Something intangible. Looking back, it was LOVE.
Megan had this way of radiating LOVE at all times. She’s a nurse now, which makes sense. She LOVED our school. She LOVED her boyfriend (now her fiance!). She LOVED her friends. She LOVED her classes and her acquaintances and her hometown and her family and EVERYTHING about her life.
She is radiant.
When I went to Vegas to meet my blogging buddies, I had ONE goal: Be Like Megan. This girl could talk to anyone and everyone about anything and everything and somehow make them feel like a million bucks. Her LOVE of everything has always been one of the most contagious feelings. Every moment I have ever spent with her has been FUN and full of LIFE. And you know what? I think my mantra worked. I did my best to Be Like Megan and that weekend remains one of the best in my personal history.
Negative energy tends to consume me. I can feel myself slowly coming out of a rut, but this is a climb from which I could easily slip back into the rut. I’ve told my husband a lot lately, “I used to be fun.” I’ve lost my fun and I’ve lost my luster. (And I’ve lost my day planner which is DRIVING ME MAD.)
My New Year’s resolution (15 days late – dontjudgeme) is to Be Like Megan. Radiate Love. Find Love in the Smallest Things. Make Life Fun. Love. Just Love.
Tomorrow is my last day at the coffeeshop. It’s a bittersweet ending but I want some time to do things for ME before I (hopefully) start grad school next fall. Also on the docket: GRE on Tuesday and a MAJOR haircut in the next couple of weeks. Seriously, I’m going to lop 8 or 10 inches off of this mane of mine. (Look out, Locks of Love, this ponytail is thick and wavy and a beast to manage!)
So there’s that.
Then there’s a bug of wanderlust in my blood. Becky says it perfectly. We’re teaming up and knocking on the doors of some cities. So far we have a tentative date for St. Louis and talks of Nashville and Milwaukee. (Hey Becky, Toronto is only 7.5 hours from your place!) Why? Well, why the hell not? This continent is so, so big and I’ve barely seen any of it. Additionally, I want to head back to South Bend to hang with my mom. Because I’ve been a bad only-child by moving hours away from her and only checking in once a week. I need to make up for it with a spa day and margaritas.
I love my little house on the corner where my cat wakes me up to play fetch at 3am and my husband lets me warm my icy feet between his calves and the kitchen smells like bacon for days after cooking it because I don’t clean up the splatters. But when it gets snowy, I get claustrophobic, and then I get the urge to do what I do best – I go away. I always seem to truly find myself away from home, when things aren’t familiar, when something shakes life up, when it gets uncomfortable. Oh life, baby, shake me up like a martini and serve me cool and sweet with an innocent kick. (Okay, brain, what the hell does that mean and why did you think it would be okay to write that?) I digress. Majorly. Apologies. I owe you a martini for reading that.
Back to the point… I’m also living on a supertight budget. So flying to San Diego for a week is out of the question. Hell, flying anywhere is out of the question. I’ll be roadtripping and couch surfing during my time of travel. (Don’t worry, Vegas is in my budget, folks.)
That said, do you have suggestions on some visit-worthy cities in a 10 hour radius of Chicago? (Extra points if it has good margaritas.) Do you have a couch in the 10 hour radius of Chicago? (Automatic win if you have a killer margarita recipe.) And most importantly, what are YOUR tips for traveling on a teeny tiny budget?
PS: Notice how I post more regularly when I have something I really really really need to be doing like studying for the GRE so I can actually get into grad school and not become a total slacker? Nice.
I know I said I was on a bit of a blogging break, but something about tethering myself to my study books makes me want to do EVERYTHING ELSE EVER. So I present to you the weekday snack edition of Weeknight Cooking in a Messy Kitchen.
There are many reasons why I like this snack. It’s healthy. It’s easy. And it’s addicting. I’m not always a healthy eater but I AM always lazy, so that’s why this is so perfect.
1.) Start with plain yogurt. Just plain ol’ yogurt.
None of that artificial vanilla stuff, straight-up real-deal yogurt.
(Damn right, I buy the cheap stuff.)
Scoop it into a bowl, as much as you want.
2.) Throw on some lovely fresh blueberries.
If you’re feeling exotic, other berries would be good too.
But, like I said, I’m lazy. Blueberries are good.
3.) Toss some nuts on there.
(That’s what she said?)
I like almonds so I use almonds.
I tried it with walnuts, though, and that’s equally delicious.
Maybe add some sunflower seeds if you got ‘em.
That would look pretty.
4.) Drizzle good honey on it.
Honey from a bear bottle will work,
but my mother in law gave us some fancy pants wildflower honey that I’ve been using.
I can tell the difference and the difference is good.
It’s like a flat yogurt parfait except way more delicious.
You could probably throw granola into the mix, but I’m plum out of that so I said screw it.
Yogurt is such a fun palate to play with, so do as you wish.
The honey makes or breaks it, though, for realz.
It adds a sweetness to the tangy yogurt that is simply addicting.
ENJOY!
Happy birthday to my best friend, my support system, my cheerleader, and my love: Joe
Photo credit
