"So, Heidi..." (Here it comes) "Now that we've talked about your accomplishments..." (Wait for it...) "Why don't you tell me about some of your faults?" Ugh.
What is the right thing to say when this question comes up? You know it's coming...it always does...but how to respond?
My first instinct is always to say that I'm a control-freak-over-achieving perfectionist who doesn't tolerate procrastination well in myself, or in others. (This manifests in me being perpetually early for every occasion and arguably wasting a lot of time over-preparing.) But my Westpoint-Grad / Top of His MBA Class / VP of His Company husband just looked at me and shook his head with pity when I ran that option by him. Sooo...maybe not.
Here's the thing. I don't lie. This goes way back to my childhood when a couple of my brothers blamed me for punishable behavior like carving declarations of love into the dining room table or taking apart all of our bikes and leaving the parts in piles all over the driveway. Really?
So I think lying is beyond lame and the benefit of doing it is never worth the repercussions...unless of course it involves my children. Ie: "The tooth fairy must have had an emergency last night. She'll surely be here tonight..." or "Keep your seat belt on or we're all going to be thrown in jail." But beyond that category of exceptions, I don't do it. Why should I?
When asked about my faults, these are the truly unhelpful things that go through my mind:
- I'm cynical. I always expect the worst and prepare myself for it accordingly. More than once I've been referred to affectionately as "Miss Sunshine" by a manager. I'm not an optimist. It can't be helped. I once bought a book called "How to be an Optimist" and threw it down after the first chapter because it was so fundamentally DUMB. Who has time to consider every possible positive outcome and who is self-destructive enough to hope for every positive outcome? It's way more efficient to expect the worst and be pleasantly surprised if it doesn't actually happen.
- I'm self-deprecating. I don't necessarily think making fun of myself is a bad thing. In fact, I find that it typically disarms people when I tell them that yes, it's 105 degrees outside and I'm wearing jeans. But it's more for you than for me, for if I exposed my ghostly pale, weirdly skinny, badly scarred legs, we would all be uncomfortable. So I suffer the heat for the good of those around me. Not really a fault.
- Here's one. Certain words and sounds make me want to jump out of my skin. I will not list the seemingly harmless words here as I know some of my dear friends would most certainly torment me endlessly with them. As for sounds... You know when you're in a movie theater and there are brief moments of silence before the movie starts? I literally have to clutch the arms of my chair (or the arm of my husband) to keep myself from running screaming from the room when I hear everyone around me chomping popcorn and sucking soda through straws and then swallowing. My skin is crawling just thinking about it. Watching my husband eat ribs or a salad with ranch dressing has a similar affect. Or hearing someone talk when they clearly need a drink of water and have that yucky greyish goo on the sides of their mouth...
I had a professor at TCU who persistently had this problem. To cope for the 50 minutes 3 times a week that I had to spend with him, I had to squeeze the leg of the poor girl next to me. I can only imagine the bruises. It was her own fault, though because if I wasn't yet aware of the disgusting smacking sound situation, she all too eagerly pointed it out to me.
I don't think any amount of therapy or self-help books can cure me of my sound/visual issues.
- Another fault is that it is unusually hard for me to simply accept things as fact without knowing the WHY behind it. I can't tell you how many times I annoyed my statistics professor by demanding to know where he got that number from and WHY do I have to memorize this seemingly random formula that you can't explain the reasoning for. Why??
I also surprised the minister at my church when I called a meeting with him after he said something along the lines of:
"There are 20 people. 8 are Muslims, 8 are Christians, 2 are Jews and 2 are Hindus. Just one of these people will enter the Kingdom of Heaven."
My brain shut off before he could really finish - and in all honesty, I probably bruised my husband's leg while thinking, "WHAT?"
So I met with the minister and demanded to know why. He sent me on my way with two more self-help books to add to my collection and a request to contact him when I finished with them. They're sitting next to my "How to be an Optimist" book.
- Staying with the religious theme for just a moment... I e-mailed my science professor who made it known that he was a "devout" Christian who believed the Bible to be literal...and was also an evolutionist. I asked him to explain how he justified the contradictions...mostly out of curiosity. He then told me he felt like God wanted him to "lead" me and that I should meet him for coffee. There he would enlighten me. I agreed. Stupid.
Over coffee, he not only didn't explain his thought process, but he had gucky mouth and was a loud swallower. He also hit on me. At least he didn't hand me a self-help book.
- This leads me to another fault. In spite of my cynical nature, I don't have a good "crappy person" radar anymore. I think it got overused in the Army and in subsequent situations. Now I'm able to find good, or at least excuse crappiness in almost every person I meet. This drives my sister-in-law crazy as she's had to rescue me from precarious situations when we've gone out to a bar. I remember saying one time, "But he's a Native American, Michele!" as she dragged me away. Evidently, Native Americans who try to ply you with Tequila shots may not have the noblest of intentions. Got it.
- Another fault. I'm a recovering "Yes Person." If you need help, I'm your girl - no matter how it inconveniences me. I'll help you study, proofread your 20-page paper, TA your class, edit the textbook you're writing, watch your child while you go camping overnight... It goes on and on. (Went on and on. I'm recovering, dammit.)
Scott doesn't allow me to answer the phone because I can't say no to the nonprofits that call. (I have more address labels than any one human being could ever possibly use). As of late, my door-answering privileges have been revoked as well. Last week I bought sheets (of all things) from three junior high school cheerleaders. (Scott is convinced they're part of some sort of elaborate scamming scheme. They're cheerleaders, for God's sake!) A couple of weeks before that, I spent 20 minutes talking to two very sweet, wholesome Mormon boys. Scott made me cancel my second meeting with them. Let's be honest. I'm not giving up Diet Dr. Pepper or the occasional Amstel Light for anyone. I now have no idea what to do with The Book of Mormon they left me with. It's sitting on top of my refrigerator. I refuse to put in the trash someone else's religious beliefs...literally or figuratively.
I could go on and on...but I just don't see how these faults relate to my ability to be a good employee...nor do I think my potential employer wants to hear about how my 65-year-old biology teacher hit on me while talking religion. I'm a reliable, loyal, resourceful, hardworking girl who may or may not squirm when you're dehydrated. But that's MY problem, not yours.
This writing exercise has not been helpful. I'm going to have to keep thinking on this one. I have faults...I just have to figure which are my relevant, yet acceptable faults. I guess there could be worse things to grapple with.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Social Lessons Learned in College
In a fairly random order...
Nothing you say to a 19-year-old boy is going to convince him that drinking Redbull and playing video games until 4 a.m. the night before an exam is a colossal mismangement of time.
However, consuming massive amounts of Redbull to finish the part of a project your group-member flaked on is perfectly acceptable.
Cheerleaders are not dumb. Well, some of them are. But this is an over-used and under-thought stereotype.
What a "MILF" is and to never tell your husband when you're called this name.
What a "Playa Hata" is (and don't make the mistake of pronouncing it "PlayER HatER" or you will undoubtedly be laughed at.
It's not the best idea to accept an offer to teach assist a class of 200 privileged freshman - several of whom claim to be ADD.
ADD in most cases is a bullshit diagnosis. Humans aren't designed to sit at desks all day and have every physical task solved for them digitally. It's no wonder energetic kids have a hard time focusing. Don't give them medication that they're most likely going to end up selling in the library parking lot. Give them EXERCISE!
And speaking of drugs - it's evidently uncool to say, "Is that a marijuana cigarette?" when at a project group-member's apartment. It's POT, people!
Set boundaries. If not, you're going to be getting 2 a.m. texts regarding insensitive boys and untolerable roommates.
Some people hate being told what to do, and some can't function without being told EXACTLY what to do. It's critical to make these determinations at the very start of any collaborative effort.
Husbands don't always understand when you leave him with the kids on a Sunday afternoon after saying, "My BFF is in a crisis with that stupid linebacker again. BRB!" Noted.
Taking Vicoden directly before a film discussion class is not the best idea. (I was two weeks post major knee surgery and it was prescribed...no judging! :) Doing this leads you to say outloud things like, "That? Was the dumbest thing I ever sat through." And when asked to explain, responding with, "Ummm. Because nobody would ever ACT like that. Mr. Professor. Sir." I guess my high-as-a-kite self doesn't appreciate the intricacies and nuances of the film noir genre.
Going to the dean to complain about a professor when you have a 94 average in the class isn't something he'll ever understand. I felt terribly responsible when said professor was fired the following semester. But hey - maybe things would have been different if you actually TAUGHT.
When you walk into what's supposed to be "blow-off" class (Hey - I was still on pain meds...and it was summer!), and the entire freshman football team files in after you, you should probably go ahead and drop immediately. In all seriousness, though - I have never consistently laughed so hard at 8 a.m. in my entire life.
If a kid looks high, they are. No exceptions.
Don't offer to share your notes with the girl who is later deemed to have had Mono. Who gets Mono in their early 30's? I do.
Sociology classes should come with a prescription for Prozac. Particularly if the words "women" or "juvenile" or "environment" are in the course titles.
When trying to build the self-esteem of an inner-city young man, your kindness may be misinterpreted and result in e-mails saying things like, "If you ever get tired of your husband and want to try something new..." Makes for an extremely awkward rest of the semester.
Wearing Uggs (blech) with super short shorts and a heavy coat is perfectly acceptable winter attire.
Staying with the shoe theme: Meaningful and enduring friendships can be sparked over a mutual hatred of Crocs.
If you admonish a young person by saying "Mouth!" when they use the "F" word, they are going to liberally use the "F" word in your presence at every given opportunity.
Same goes for the "N" word when uttered by those who have earned the right to use it when referring to their friends.
There are a zillion more, but for now I think these should suffice. :)
Nothing you say to a 19-year-old boy is going to convince him that drinking Redbull and playing video games until 4 a.m. the night before an exam is a colossal mismangement of time.
However, consuming massive amounts of Redbull to finish the part of a project your group-member flaked on is perfectly acceptable.
Cheerleaders are not dumb. Well, some of them are. But this is an over-used and under-thought stereotype.
What a "MILF" is and to never tell your husband when you're called this name.
What a "Playa Hata" is (and don't make the mistake of pronouncing it "PlayER HatER" or you will undoubtedly be laughed at.
It's not the best idea to accept an offer to teach assist a class of 200 privileged freshman - several of whom claim to be ADD.
ADD in most cases is a bullshit diagnosis. Humans aren't designed to sit at desks all day and have every physical task solved for them digitally. It's no wonder energetic kids have a hard time focusing. Don't give them medication that they're most likely going to end up selling in the library parking lot. Give them EXERCISE!
And speaking of drugs - it's evidently uncool to say, "Is that a marijuana cigarette?" when at a project group-member's apartment. It's POT, people!
Set boundaries. If not, you're going to be getting 2 a.m. texts regarding insensitive boys and untolerable roommates.
Some people hate being told what to do, and some can't function without being told EXACTLY what to do. It's critical to make these determinations at the very start of any collaborative effort.
Husbands don't always understand when you leave him with the kids on a Sunday afternoon after saying, "My BFF is in a crisis with that stupid linebacker again. BRB!" Noted.
Taking Vicoden directly before a film discussion class is not the best idea. (I was two weeks post major knee surgery and it was prescribed...no judging! :) Doing this leads you to say outloud things like, "That? Was the dumbest thing I ever sat through." And when asked to explain, responding with, "Ummm. Because nobody would ever ACT like that. Mr. Professor. Sir." I guess my high-as-a-kite self doesn't appreciate the intricacies and nuances of the film noir genre.
Going to the dean to complain about a professor when you have a 94 average in the class isn't something he'll ever understand. I felt terribly responsible when said professor was fired the following semester. But hey - maybe things would have been different if you actually TAUGHT.
When you walk into what's supposed to be "blow-off" class (Hey - I was still on pain meds...and it was summer!), and the entire freshman football team files in after you, you should probably go ahead and drop immediately. In all seriousness, though - I have never consistently laughed so hard at 8 a.m. in my entire life.
If a kid looks high, they are. No exceptions.
Don't offer to share your notes with the girl who is later deemed to have had Mono. Who gets Mono in their early 30's? I do.
Sociology classes should come with a prescription for Prozac. Particularly if the words "women" or "juvenile" or "environment" are in the course titles.
When trying to build the self-esteem of an inner-city young man, your kindness may be misinterpreted and result in e-mails saying things like, "If you ever get tired of your husband and want to try something new..." Makes for an extremely awkward rest of the semester.
Wearing Uggs (blech) with super short shorts and a heavy coat is perfectly acceptable winter attire.
Staying with the shoe theme: Meaningful and enduring friendships can be sparked over a mutual hatred of Crocs.
If you admonish a young person by saying "Mouth!" when they use the "F" word, they are going to liberally use the "F" word in your presence at every given opportunity.
Same goes for the "N" word when uttered by those who have earned the right to use it when referring to their friends.
There are a zillion more, but for now I think these should suffice. :)
Friday, February 12, 2010
First Week of College
Sunday, June 10, 2007
 | Current mood:  cheerful Category: School, College, Greek Just wanted to get down my initial impressions of my first week of school. So far I really like it! The campus is very nice…though kind of scattered about a not so lovely area of Ummm…thanks. So I asked him how old he was. He sighed and said, "24." I told him there was no way in hell I was telling him my age…but since then he's been following me around and keeps telling me that my hair smells good – so I guess I'm not that disgustingly old to him.
My first class was Philosophy. There are about 19 students in the class. As I watched one tiny adorable blonde file in after another – I got a little anxious. Scott has made me promise to hold all study groups at our house. This isn't looking good for my marriage. Anyway – my teacher is a total stoner and I've discovered that I hate Philosophy…mostly. It doesn't help that I've had to quit my 3 cigarette a day habit that I pick up every time we move. But I sit there wanting to throttle him most of the time…or at the very least say, "Are you friggin kidding me?" Hopefully once the nicotine cravings subside it'll be more tolerable.
All of the girls here sound like Paris Hilton – but I'm finding them to be so much fun. I just hope I don't start talking like them. If any of you care about me at all – you'll intervene if this becomes the case. I am so serious!
So my second class is Cultural Anthropology – which I'm much more enthused about. I was sure – at 20 minutes early, I was again going to be the first student in the class – but there was another guy sitting there by himself when I walked in… I looked at him and felt quite relieved. Clearly he had to be older than me. (Just teasing, Chris! You don't look a day over 25!) Only he wasn't…by six months. But I can explain his beating me in the classroom. He was also in the military. We are now bestest friends and have exchanged Myspace pages.
My anthropology teacher is extremely nice…if a little over-excited about the subject. The first thing I noticed about him was that he was wearing one brown shoe and one black shoe (which made me sad because I thought of my bff Tanya doing the same thing…but she had an excuse at 8 months pregnant!) The first class felt like he was recruiting us for the field. We had to watch an hour long 'careers in anthropology' video during which at least 3 of the kids fell asleep. Not joking.
I honestly feel bad for these professors. They seem to be so passionate about what they're doing and want very much for the students to get excited with them…but the majority of them are doodling in their notebooks or texting people. And thus far I'm one of the only ones who answers their questions…some times after a long period of silence. (Most of you know I cannot stand an uncomfortable silence!) I've actually said some really stupid things just to end a silence.
Example:
PH Professor: What IS knowledge? Me after at least 60 seconds of silence: "Things you know?" (Hey – I was tired and I hate this friggin class. I refuse to talk 'philosophically' until my nicotine withdrawals wear off.)
The kids don't seem to think I'm really old, despite the fact that I feel like a complete imposter carrying around a backpack. I had a conversation like this with one of the very white kids in my anthropology class who dresses like Eminem with lots of bling and sparkly braces, but is really cute and I think probably very insecure.
Eminem Kid: "You're married?" Me: "Yup, with two kids." Eminem Kid: "How old are you?" Me: "How old would you guess me to be?" (I know this is self-indulgent…but I'm insecure, OK?) Eminem Kid: "I would say early 20's." (Military guy is now no longer my best friend.)
I then gave him some additional facts about myself and he went up to 'mid-thirties'…but that's hardly worth mentioning.
Another conversation with one of my 'Paris Hilton' buddies.
Me: "Yes – I hate it." Me: "Blake Hestir." Another Parissy girl pipes in. Other Me: I guess so… Other Me: "He's not that old."
So I guess what I'm trying to display with the above conversations is the fact that the kids don't seem to think I'm that old…which you all know I was concerned with. I've already decided I'm going with a 'tote' next semester. Just can't do the backpack. Also I'm going to have to come to grips that I will never be able to dress like my classmates. The typical attire (with exceptions, obviously) is really short shorts and tight t-shirts. I don't care how hot it gets. I am not wearing short shorts. And I am especially not wearing short shorts with words written across the butt.
All in all – I'm adjusting well. The work isn't too bad…lots of reading and some short papers the first week…plus two quizzes. Though I have to advise against reading 30 minutes of Curious George followed by 12 excruciating pages of Socrates…it makes for some really weird dreams later on.
I've also made friends with the admin in the
So school is going well. I'm actually loving it. I love the professors…even the annoying, kinda old Philosophy teacher and the Doctor of Anthropology who makes industry related jokes that none of us get and laughs about them throughout the class. On the bright side – he hasn't worn mismatched shoes since the first day. I love the kids. They're rich, over-privileged and silly…but they make me laugh consistently every day and some of them surprise me with their insight.
On to life… We had an offer accepted on a house today – so we'll be moving in next month. It's in a beautiful neighborhood. I think at 3100 square feet, it's actually the smallest house on the street. So we're tripling our space and it cost roughly half of what our house in
Scott's really enjoying his job – but hating the traffic out here. Hopefully he'll get used to it - because I don't think it's going to get any better. Yesterday we went to a Rangers game with his new company. It couldn't compare to a Red Sox game, but it was fun and they actually won. I think they have the worst record in baseball right now!
It's really friggin hot here. I mean…really hot. If I had male parts - I would be sweating them off. And it's only going to get worse as the summer wears on. It's so annoying because my hair will look really good in the apartment – but as soon as I walk outside…done. Nathan hates the heat. I'm hoping he'll get used to it. It's not helping that the AC in my car is acting up. It's either on full blast or not at all. So I'm either driving down the street with my frizzy hair blowing all over the place or sweating to death. Have to get that fixed! |
May 9th 2007
Thursday, April 19, 2007
| Current mood:  melancholy Category: Life May 9th will be my last day in Massachusetts. I just booked a one way flight to Dallas for Aaron and me. Scott and Nathan are driving. (I just smiled and nodded when he volunteered to do that... Any revenge I feel the need to inflict on him due to the fact that he's been a complete bastard lately will take place on that several-day trip. Talk about passive aggressive behavior on my part!) I'm sad to be leaving. I'm sad because my sister isn't talking to me right now and doesn't realize the pain she's causing me...the irreparable pain. I'm sad that I'm leaving behind my sisters, life long friends and my niece who I won't get to see grow up. I'm sad that the whole reason I moved back to this place was to get closer to my family and it seems I've only grown further apart... Moving away - to some degree lessens the reality of that situation and makes it easier to explain to my children. But there is much to be happy about too. We'll live in a big house and I won't have to trip over toys in the livingroom or my husband when I'm fighting for the sink in the morning. I won't pay 2000.00 a month for daycare on top of 2000.00 a month for a mortgage. I won't have to come to a job every day that I feel demeans me. (Maybe not the job...maybe some of the people??) I'll get to go to school!! (Still haven't been accepted where I want to go...still waiting...) I'm happy that we'll have Scott's mother and sister close by to support us. Massachusetts for me holds so many conflicting memories and emotions. Honestly I'm not the person I was when I grew up here. So many people misunderstand me and my intentions. I'm looking forward to starting over. But I guess that's what I always look forward to. Some day I suppose I'll have to settle down and deal with things in a way that doesn't involve up and moving - but for the time being...Yee Haw. |
I Got Accepted!
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
| Current mood:  hopeful Category: School, College, Greek To UNC Charlotte. OK, OK. I know I'm probably not going to end up in North Carolina this time around - but it's still an acceptance! I've also applied to: Framingham State - No response yet. Boston University - No response yet. Northeastern University - No response yet. North Carolina State - No response yet. It's hard doing this having no idea where we're going to be. I don't recommend it. The application fees for random schools around the United States alone make it difficult! But I am SO committed now that I know a school will even accept a 31 year old woman with credits in 4 different schools. In other news - Scott has a second interview this evening for a company in Braintree. It's a great deal...but obviously it keeps us in the Northeast...which won't be awful if I'm accepted at BU! He's also flying out to Dallas on Thursday for another interview. Texas is kind of...let's just say...not my favorite place - but his mother and sister are there and it would be nice to have some support with the kids. I should have some definite news by Friday afternoon. I know those of you who are pulling for Virginia aren't going to be happy - but he's just not finding anything in that area right now. :( This is all very exciting...when it's not entirely terrifying! |
A Candy Bar
Friday, February 02, 2007
| Current mood:  irritated Category: Jobs, Work, Careers I walked into my boss's office to hand him his mail…which is ridiculous in itself. I mean – the guy walks by the mail area at least 5 times a day... "Shut the door and sit down," he said, waving me in with one hand and moving piles around with the other. I knew what was coming. White Sheets. Every year in the first week of February every employee of TI is given their annual raise. This happens right at the same time we receive our profit sharing…I'm convinced to soften the blow. I was a little impatient and wary. I knew for a fact that he'd had my information for at least a week…and I knew that he knew that I knew. My two previous raises had been more than I'd expected and he couldn't wait to let me know as soon as he had the sheet in his hand. I pulled out the chair and sat down. He made a big show of pulling the piece of paper from his all important folder of top secret stuff. He held it in front of his face - letting my anticipation build. I wasn't hating him this week…which was pretty unusual. I don't know if it was the realization that I'm going to be leaving one way or another in the next 6 months or so...or if I just didn't care that much anymore...but I was kind of amused that he thought he had me on the edge of my seat. I stifled a yawn. He slid the paper in front of me…but upside down. "So last year you made 'this much'", he pointed to the figure that I clearly couldn't read... "Yes," I agreed, nodding. "Congratulations (I'm not kidding…he really said 'Congratulations') you've been given a raise of 3.4% which amounts to 80 cents per hour. (Those of you who are dying to know my salary – do the math…I'm not trying to keep any secrets!) "So if you multiply 80 cents by 40 hours…" (Does he seriously think I need him to explain this to me?) Yes…I'm now making 32.00 more per week. But wait – when you take out taxes it's actually closer to 21.00 per week… And when you take into account that I promised my daycare provider that I'd pay her actual set amount (of which I talked her down 25.00 initially) when I got my raise – I'm actually losing 4.00 per week. I can speculate that this decision was made last year when I was close to 9 months pregnant and probably not the most competent (though definitely more so that most of the other admins!) of employees… I was uncomfortable…forgetful…and I did snap at him the third time he so considerately imitated my 'waddle-walk' for the other managers. But 80 friggin cents?? Congratulations indeed. |
Major Decision
Thursday, February 01, 2007
| Current mood:  optimistic Category: Life I've finally made the tough decision to quit my job (don't get excited...not yet!) and go to school full time in September. This is scary to me for many reasons. It's going to be interesting trying to hold it together financially on just Scott's salary...but not only that...I've invested 5 years of my life in this company...albe them very boring and frustrating years! I'm also not sure if we're going to be able to keep the kids in daycare...which could prove a logistical nightmare. Oh - and did I mention I'm going to be 13 years older than the majority of my classmates? I love my nieces - but I cannot imagine having to deal with teenagers for several hours a day! But despite all of that - the time is now. The GI Bill (which was the primary reason I joined the Army 10 years ago) is going to expire for me at the end of next year. If I started school tomorrow I'd still lose a ton of money for waiting too long...but I'm not willing to lose all of it. I also feel like I'm at a cross roads where I have to make a decision to either a. fully support my husband and children and let my career take the backseat or b. give something that I KNOW I would be good at and I know I would find rewarding - a shot. So I'm starting really late - and I honestly don't know where we're going to be living in 6 months - but I applied to my first school 5 minutes ago and I'm going to keep on applying until I cover every area that we could potentially be in. (Applications are going to get expensive -but whatever!) So hold me to it - and some day you may here 'And now reporting for NBC - our political correspondent, Heidi Lee!' (Or CNN or CBS - but NBC sounds better for obvious reasons)! |
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