![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Massive brain dump
Hi all. This will be a rather long post as I do some relatively deep introspection. I'll try to keep it lighthearted and easy-to-read, but consider yourselves warned.
The situation: my aunt, a wonderful, lovely, kindhearted lady, has offered to buy me an outfit to go job hunting and suchlike. We were supposed to go next Saturday or next Friday, but due to scheduling problems (ie: I'm busy both mornings), we may need to go both days. I found myself getting quite defensive about this, arguing that I didn't think clothes shopping takes that long, that I don't really like it to begin with... etc. I probably wasn't being fair to a woman who really just wants to help me.
The reason I gave at the time was that it was too big a time commitment. If I give up both Friday afternoon and Saturday afternoon, and I'm already busy Saturday morning (tutoring) and all day Sunday (D&D), then I'm effectively losing three days of schoolwork, right at the end of semester. And, in fact, this is a valid reason. But it's not the real reason. I can make the time: I've done it before. No, there was something deeper at play, so I did a bit of soul searching and came up with two reasons.
Reason #1 is a body issue. No, it's not tummy -- I'm actually doing fairly well and at least maintaining my weight, if not losing a bit (without a scale, it's hard to know for sure). No, my issue is with "the girls." They're lopsided. They're very lopsided. As in, "a cup and a half difference" lopsided. Lopsided to the point where my GP asked if Ii wanted surgery to even them out. (The answer was no.) To date, I have only ever found one bra that fits both sides. I know there are pads and things out there, but I've never found one that's comfortable, so I don't wear them. The result is that many shirts -- especially anything tight, anything with a V-neck, or anything with a vertical line down the centre (say, button-down shirts) -- don't fit me well, or look very awkward. I'm still very self-conscious about this.
Reason #2 is more associative. The last time I went to buy "nice clothes" was sometime during my first three years of undergrad (can't pin it any closer than that). I was with my dad, because he had decided that I needed something "nice" for some occasion which I have since forgotten. In the end, I bought a very nice suit for $350, and a very nice pair of shoes for $150. The first problem was with the shoes: they were above-the-ankle boots with three-inch heels. They looked absolutely stunning on me. They hurt immensely. My dad told me that this just came with the territory of heels, and having never worn heels before, I believed him. The problem was that no one told me that even while wearing heels, your entire foot should be touching the sole of the shoe. Yes, folks, when I wear these shoes only my heel and the ball of my foot are touching the shoe: my entire arch is unsupported. This means that if I wear these shoes for more than two hours, I am in excruciating pain. I tried wearing them to a few formal functions and job interviews, and on the way home couldn't walk the 5 minutes from the metro to my house. So I stopped wearing them. And given that the suit is tailored for 3-inch heels, and I don't own any other 3-inch heels, I stopped wearing it, too. Which means that this shopping trip yeilded me a $500 outfit that hangs in my closet collecting dust.
But that wasn't the worst part. Oh, no. You see, despite my dad being the one shopping with me, this was one of those situations where both parents thought the other one should be paying for the purchase. My dad didn't want to pay, giving a variation on the argument "this is why I pay child support." My mom didn't want to pay, giving the very reasonable argument of "a single $500 outfit was not in my budget." Knowing this situation, I did what I thought was the best solution at the time: I secretly decided that I would pay for it, because I didn't want my parents getting into a big conflict because of me. I don't like conflict, especially between my parents, and especially because of me. I had the money, and I could afford it (though it would mean cutting back on certain other things I wanted).
Of course, this was the wrong decision. Neither parent wanted me to pay for it. In the end, there was a big conflict because of me. When all the dust had settled, I didn't pay for the suit, but I did (apparently) associate "shopping for nice clothes" with "conflict," and therefore to be avoided. Probably neither of my parents remember this episode any more, but it was a huge deal for me, and one of the biggest arguments between my parents that I have actually been exposed to (as opposed to the bigger ones they thankfully keep from me).
So, looking back on it, I realize why I got a bit jittery at my aunt's offer.
Working through that previous rant / introspection has made me think about a related one, namely how my aunt's family deals with money. I find that especially for my cousins and my uncle, the attitude isn't even one of entitlement, it's one of base assumption. Luxuries are assumed in the same way that other people's children assume that there will be groceries and cable tv.
Now, let's be honest here, my childhood was anything but deprived. I lived in a very nice home, in a nice neighbourhood, and took weekend trips to a nice country house. I attended private school, went to private day-camps, and took quite a few trips which, in retrospect, must have cost a lot of money. There are many words to describe the lifestyle I had growing up, but "want" is not one of them. I'd call it "comfotable" at the least, and probably even "well-off."
So given my own history, my reaction to my cousins' lifestyle is all the more striking.
I always somehow feel like I'm walking into the twilight zone when I spend time with them: a world in which the mentality is completely different from my own. It's the way my uncle casually looked at $1000 digital video cameras today at Futureshop. When the clerk asked him his budget, my uncle replied, "I have no budget. My budget is whatever I decide I want." When the clerk jokingly asked him whether he'd consider an $8000 camera, my uncle shrugged and repeated himself. I mean, who does that?!? That's just like telling the clerk, "hi, I'm a huge commission waiting to happen!"
Meanwhile, my cousin was purchasing an XBox 360. Understand that this is an $800 system which, as I understand it, only has 1 or 2 good games. He didn't have the money on him, and was about to go to customer service to get a store card so that he could pay for it over three months. I don't know the end result of the situation, but I do know that my cousin did not get the card, and that my uncle was seen pulling out his wallet. For an $800 system that he apparently did not know my cousin was going to be buying.
It just feels odd having conversations with them, because they casually mention things that I never even considered doing or buying because of the cost. We were in the car on the way back from the aforesaid shopping trip, and I mentioned that I had Loch Lomond stuck in my head (yes, it's still stuck in my head), and started humming it. My uncle turned to me and said, "Wow, you really like that Celtic music. Have you ever been to Ireland?" I said that I hadn't. His response, "You should go! Take six months and go to Ireland!" Riiiight... let me just pull together $10,000 and we'll talk.
It's very odd, that's all I can say. Coming from a background I consider quite priviledged, especially compared to some people I've met (and consider friends) in my time after high school, the differences astound me. In a year, my cousin will have taken three trips overseas (to Italy, England, and Africa), not counting trips he's done to the US and the rest of Canada. He doesn't think this is at all atypical, as far as I can tell. It boggles the mind.
And now for something moderately different. I started reading a book today. It's called Heading Out, edited by Gloria Kamen. It's essentially collections of autobiography chapters from various famous people about how they started on their careers. I read through the "writers" section, which consists of Russell Baker, Katherine Paterson, Isaac Asimov, Julia Alvarez, and Pauline Fisk. (Later sections include the arts, sports, business, science, etc.) One thing all these writers seem to have in common is that they all love their jobs. They may have started shakily, but at some point they thought to themselves "this is what I want to do with my life." They wanted to do what they loved, and they made money doing it.
I've been trying to figure out what I love. The problem is compounded for me, because I love so many things but don't actually do most of them on a regular basis. I love to teach. I love to teach anything, from math, to writing skills, to sewing, to computers... anything. My uncle once tried to prod me in a direction, asking me what I wanted to teach, and I couldn't answer him. For me, I love taking something and explaining it in a way that makes sense, so that people understand something that they didn't understand before. I don't care about the content, really. Teach me new content, and I can probably teach it back at you. I tutored students in a class I was taking with them, for crying out loud! I've taught something I learned by looking at a friend's homework assignment, having no background in the field! I don't care what I'm teaching, just that I'm teaching!
That, of course, is the problem. You can't just walk up to someone and say, "hey, let me teach you something, anything!" They want to know your credentials. They want you to be an expert in the thing you're teaching, and the honest truth is that I'm not an expert in anything. Given that so far, all the cegeps to which I've applied have told me variations on "we're not hiring," I've been trying to come up with other venues where teaching skills might be applied. My dad works as a corporate consultant, which is definitely something lucrative. I just have absolutely no background in that sort of thing and have no idea how I'd start, or how I'd make myself seem credible.
I also love to write. The problem is that I love to write informally. I utterly abhor academic writing -- this semester will hopefully be the last I ever subject myself to it. I don't write good fiction because I can't come up with believable stories (all my stuff is cliche -- it's the same reason I don't make a good GM). I'm uncomfortable writing journalistic or editorial pieces because I don't feel I have enough of a handle on the issues. There's always someone who could make a good counter-argument that I can't beat. So, in the end, while I'm happy writing in my LJ for 45 minutes or more (by my clock, it's currently 11:58, and I started this entry at 11:13), and while a few people have told me that my blog is relatively entertaining reading, it's still not something I think I could do professionally. I mean, really, if you didn't know me, would you want to read my daily ramblings?
There are other things I love, but feel equally unqualified doing: I love many kinds of dancing: square dancing, line dancing, Irish, ballroom, salsa, swing... I have absolutely no training in any of these styles, understand, but every time I've been invited to do them, I've had an absolutely fantastic time. I love doing karate (and especially teaching karate, see "love" #1), but given that I won't be returning to my old dojo, I've got effectively no training in that either. I love discussing religion and philosophy, but I don't know many jobs with the requirement, "an eclectic knowledge of Christianity, Judaism, Wicca, and various and sundry religions and philosophical schools." I used to love math, but my knowledge is essentially at pre-calculus right now (I did up to Cal 2 and Linear Algebra in cegep, but I've forgotten most of it). I love roleplaying, singing, and reading, but again I can't think of any careers that match these (except singing, and my singing is definitely not good enough to be at that level).
So where does this leave me? I don't know. Confused, mostly. It's a feeling I've become well acquainted with over the last few months.
So... just to ensure I don't leave all my readers on that negative note, something positive. What can I do with 4 hours to work on school stuff? Apparently I can:
- write 4 pages of a paper
- do a read-through of 85 lines of Latin and translate the words I don't know
- skim 2, 20-page articles
- read another article in detail
Not bad, if I do say so myself. Oh, also I can clean my room, which is helpful for both mind and body. Have you ever noticed that you feel more motivated in a clean space rather than a disorganized, messy one? I notice that whenever I'm paying attention. If I tidy up, I suddenly have more energy. Maybe it's a feng shui thing. :)
So that's it for tonight. I won't apologize for going long, because I warned you at the outset. I even provided helpful content markers. If you can't be bothered to read the few lines outside the lj-cuts, it's your own fault. Tomorrow is, as they say, another day, which will feature (wait for it...) more schoolwork! Maybe also more time with my brother before he returns to Montreal on the evening train. It's now past my bedtime and I'm going to sleep. G'night all!
The situation: my aunt, a wonderful, lovely, kindhearted lady, has offered to buy me an outfit to go job hunting and suchlike. We were supposed to go next Saturday or next Friday, but due to scheduling problems (ie: I'm busy both mornings), we may need to go both days. I found myself getting quite defensive about this, arguing that I didn't think clothes shopping takes that long, that I don't really like it to begin with... etc. I probably wasn't being fair to a woman who really just wants to help me.
The reason I gave at the time was that it was too big a time commitment. If I give up both Friday afternoon and Saturday afternoon, and I'm already busy Saturday morning (tutoring) and all day Sunday (D&D), then I'm effectively losing three days of schoolwork, right at the end of semester. And, in fact, this is a valid reason. But it's not the real reason. I can make the time: I've done it before. No, there was something deeper at play, so I did a bit of soul searching and came up with two reasons.
Reason #1 is a body issue. No, it's not tummy -- I'm actually doing fairly well and at least maintaining my weight, if not losing a bit (without a scale, it's hard to know for sure). No, my issue is with "the girls." They're lopsided. They're very lopsided. As in, "a cup and a half difference" lopsided. Lopsided to the point where my GP asked if Ii wanted surgery to even them out. (The answer was no.) To date, I have only ever found one bra that fits both sides. I know there are pads and things out there, but I've never found one that's comfortable, so I don't wear them. The result is that many shirts -- especially anything tight, anything with a V-neck, or anything with a vertical line down the centre (say, button-down shirts) -- don't fit me well, or look very awkward. I'm still very self-conscious about this.
Reason #2 is more associative. The last time I went to buy "nice clothes" was sometime during my first three years of undergrad (can't pin it any closer than that). I was with my dad, because he had decided that I needed something "nice" for some occasion which I have since forgotten. In the end, I bought a very nice suit for $350, and a very nice pair of shoes for $150. The first problem was with the shoes: they were above-the-ankle boots with three-inch heels. They looked absolutely stunning on me. They hurt immensely. My dad told me that this just came with the territory of heels, and having never worn heels before, I believed him. The problem was that no one told me that even while wearing heels, your entire foot should be touching the sole of the shoe. Yes, folks, when I wear these shoes only my heel and the ball of my foot are touching the shoe: my entire arch is unsupported. This means that if I wear these shoes for more than two hours, I am in excruciating pain. I tried wearing them to a few formal functions and job interviews, and on the way home couldn't walk the 5 minutes from the metro to my house. So I stopped wearing them. And given that the suit is tailored for 3-inch heels, and I don't own any other 3-inch heels, I stopped wearing it, too. Which means that this shopping trip yeilded me a $500 outfit that hangs in my closet collecting dust.
But that wasn't the worst part. Oh, no. You see, despite my dad being the one shopping with me, this was one of those situations where both parents thought the other one should be paying for the purchase. My dad didn't want to pay, giving a variation on the argument "this is why I pay child support." My mom didn't want to pay, giving the very reasonable argument of "a single $500 outfit was not in my budget." Knowing this situation, I did what I thought was the best solution at the time: I secretly decided that I would pay for it, because I didn't want my parents getting into a big conflict because of me. I don't like conflict, especially between my parents, and especially because of me. I had the money, and I could afford it (though it would mean cutting back on certain other things I wanted).
Of course, this was the wrong decision. Neither parent wanted me to pay for it. In the end, there was a big conflict because of me. When all the dust had settled, I didn't pay for the suit, but I did (apparently) associate "shopping for nice clothes" with "conflict," and therefore to be avoided. Probably neither of my parents remember this episode any more, but it was a huge deal for me, and one of the biggest arguments between my parents that I have actually been exposed to (as opposed to the bigger ones they thankfully keep from me).
So, looking back on it, I realize why I got a bit jittery at my aunt's offer.
Working through that previous rant / introspection has made me think about a related one, namely how my aunt's family deals with money. I find that especially for my cousins and my uncle, the attitude isn't even one of entitlement, it's one of base assumption. Luxuries are assumed in the same way that other people's children assume that there will be groceries and cable tv.
Now, let's be honest here, my childhood was anything but deprived. I lived in a very nice home, in a nice neighbourhood, and took weekend trips to a nice country house. I attended private school, went to private day-camps, and took quite a few trips which, in retrospect, must have cost a lot of money. There are many words to describe the lifestyle I had growing up, but "want" is not one of them. I'd call it "comfotable" at the least, and probably even "well-off."
So given my own history, my reaction to my cousins' lifestyle is all the more striking.
I always somehow feel like I'm walking into the twilight zone when I spend time with them: a world in which the mentality is completely different from my own. It's the way my uncle casually looked at $1000 digital video cameras today at Futureshop. When the clerk asked him his budget, my uncle replied, "I have no budget. My budget is whatever I decide I want." When the clerk jokingly asked him whether he'd consider an $8000 camera, my uncle shrugged and repeated himself. I mean, who does that?!? That's just like telling the clerk, "hi, I'm a huge commission waiting to happen!"
Meanwhile, my cousin was purchasing an XBox 360. Understand that this is an $800 system which, as I understand it, only has 1 or 2 good games. He didn't have the money on him, and was about to go to customer service to get a store card so that he could pay for it over three months. I don't know the end result of the situation, but I do know that my cousin did not get the card, and that my uncle was seen pulling out his wallet. For an $800 system that he apparently did not know my cousin was going to be buying.
It just feels odd having conversations with them, because they casually mention things that I never even considered doing or buying because of the cost. We were in the car on the way back from the aforesaid shopping trip, and I mentioned that I had Loch Lomond stuck in my head (yes, it's still stuck in my head), and started humming it. My uncle turned to me and said, "Wow, you really like that Celtic music. Have you ever been to Ireland?" I said that I hadn't. His response, "You should go! Take six months and go to Ireland!" Riiiight... let me just pull together $10,000 and we'll talk.
It's very odd, that's all I can say. Coming from a background I consider quite priviledged, especially compared to some people I've met (and consider friends) in my time after high school, the differences astound me. In a year, my cousin will have taken three trips overseas (to Italy, England, and Africa), not counting trips he's done to the US and the rest of Canada. He doesn't think this is at all atypical, as far as I can tell. It boggles the mind.
And now for something moderately different. I started reading a book today. It's called Heading Out, edited by Gloria Kamen. It's essentially collections of autobiography chapters from various famous people about how they started on their careers. I read through the "writers" section, which consists of Russell Baker, Katherine Paterson, Isaac Asimov, Julia Alvarez, and Pauline Fisk. (Later sections include the arts, sports, business, science, etc.) One thing all these writers seem to have in common is that they all love their jobs. They may have started shakily, but at some point they thought to themselves "this is what I want to do with my life." They wanted to do what they loved, and they made money doing it.
I've been trying to figure out what I love. The problem is compounded for me, because I love so many things but don't actually do most of them on a regular basis. I love to teach. I love to teach anything, from math, to writing skills, to sewing, to computers... anything. My uncle once tried to prod me in a direction, asking me what I wanted to teach, and I couldn't answer him. For me, I love taking something and explaining it in a way that makes sense, so that people understand something that they didn't understand before. I don't care about the content, really. Teach me new content, and I can probably teach it back at you. I tutored students in a class I was taking with them, for crying out loud! I've taught something I learned by looking at a friend's homework assignment, having no background in the field! I don't care what I'm teaching, just that I'm teaching!
That, of course, is the problem. You can't just walk up to someone and say, "hey, let me teach you something, anything!" They want to know your credentials. They want you to be an expert in the thing you're teaching, and the honest truth is that I'm not an expert in anything. Given that so far, all the cegeps to which I've applied have told me variations on "we're not hiring," I've been trying to come up with other venues where teaching skills might be applied. My dad works as a corporate consultant, which is definitely something lucrative. I just have absolutely no background in that sort of thing and have no idea how I'd start, or how I'd make myself seem credible.
I also love to write. The problem is that I love to write informally. I utterly abhor academic writing -- this semester will hopefully be the last I ever subject myself to it. I don't write good fiction because I can't come up with believable stories (all my stuff is cliche -- it's the same reason I don't make a good GM). I'm uncomfortable writing journalistic or editorial pieces because I don't feel I have enough of a handle on the issues. There's always someone who could make a good counter-argument that I can't beat. So, in the end, while I'm happy writing in my LJ for 45 minutes or more (by my clock, it's currently 11:58, and I started this entry at 11:13), and while a few people have told me that my blog is relatively entertaining reading, it's still not something I think I could do professionally. I mean, really, if you didn't know me, would you want to read my daily ramblings?
There are other things I love, but feel equally unqualified doing: I love many kinds of dancing: square dancing, line dancing, Irish, ballroom, salsa, swing... I have absolutely no training in any of these styles, understand, but every time I've been invited to do them, I've had an absolutely fantastic time. I love doing karate (and especially teaching karate, see "love" #1), but given that I won't be returning to my old dojo, I've got effectively no training in that either. I love discussing religion and philosophy, but I don't know many jobs with the requirement, "an eclectic knowledge of Christianity, Judaism, Wicca, and various and sundry religions and philosophical schools." I used to love math, but my knowledge is essentially at pre-calculus right now (I did up to Cal 2 and Linear Algebra in cegep, but I've forgotten most of it). I love roleplaying, singing, and reading, but again I can't think of any careers that match these (except singing, and my singing is definitely not good enough to be at that level).
So where does this leave me? I don't know. Confused, mostly. It's a feeling I've become well acquainted with over the last few months.
So... just to ensure I don't leave all my readers on that negative note, something positive. What can I do with 4 hours to work on school stuff? Apparently I can:
- write 4 pages of a paper
- do a read-through of 85 lines of Latin and translate the words I don't know
- skim 2, 20-page articles
- read another article in detail
Not bad, if I do say so myself. Oh, also I can clean my room, which is helpful for both mind and body. Have you ever noticed that you feel more motivated in a clean space rather than a disorganized, messy one? I notice that whenever I'm paying attention. If I tidy up, I suddenly have more energy. Maybe it's a feng shui thing. :)
So that's it for tonight. I won't apologize for going long, because I warned you at the outset. I even provided helpful content markers. If you can't be bothered to read the few lines outside the lj-cuts, it's your own fault. Tomorrow is, as they say, another day, which will feature (wait for it...) more schoolwork! Maybe also more time with my brother before he returns to Montreal on the evening train. It's now past my bedtime and I'm going to sleep. G'night all!