The Real World: Domestifestivacation

Domestifestivacation. Like it? I made it up. It involves being all domestic, making domesticity into some sort of party or "festival" if you will, and also vacations. I don't know why I threw vacations in the mix. Probably because I like them, k? Well anyway, part of being a grown up means being domestic...at least in my life it does. I grant you, making do in the "real world" means many things to many unique individuals, but for me a big part of attempting to live in Adultdom is attempting to keep myself fed and clothed. Oh, and avoiding living in squalor. In layman speak, it means I have to feed myself and do chores. Blech.

In my limited experience, there is practically nothing in the real world that matches up with how I thought it would be. I've already discussed my feelings about work. I'm not ready to get on that soapbox again. However, the whole concept of life as an adult is a soapbox in and of itself for me. How did I not see any of it coming?? The working, the getting plugged in, the errands, the doing things for myself, the self-reliance, the actual independence. Just thinking about it all at once blows my mind. I feel it's best to tackle this one topic at a time. If I wanted to discuss every aspect of adult life that has surprised me over the past 3 years, I would be writing for hours and still not have exhausted my feelings on the subject. Ergo, today I discuss domesticity.

Yeah, like living in a dorm ever got me ready to live on my own. Example. (My parents will love this...) I remember having a very serious argument with Donnie and Shar-Shar before the summer of 2004. It left me in tears. I was also in tears during the "discussion". Angry tears! I was adamant that I could handle the responsibility of living on my own, in San Antonio, with my best friends before our senior year. With some sort of waitressing or retail job, I was sure I could live in relative comfort whilst paying my bills and having the best summer ever. I humbly suggested this to the parental unit and boy did I get the smack down. In their infinite wisdom, my 'rents asked that I think about all possible ramifications of my perfect little scenario. Really, really was I going to pay all my bills and buy food and gas and pay rent living on tips? Okay, they didn't just ask me to think about this stuff, they told me I couldn't do it. I was livid! They were crushing my dream! I was so young and free and I knew I could handle it all. I was going to be a senior, for crying out loud. How hard would it be to live with my besties for just 3 months? Oh wow, oh WOW. I laugh at myself now, imagining what my summer would have been like had my parents agreed to my request. AND I laugh incredulously thinking about how so unprepared I was for life on my own then, especially considering how unprepared I was for it after I graduated (and at that point I'd been living "on my own" for 2 semesters.)

Playing house can be fun, but it's no joke. That's why I moved back home after I graduated college. Yes, I was a boomerang kid...or latchkey kid? I don't know all the words. They have some name for people like me. But it was cool. I had a good job. I was moving back to Tulsa, a city with a relatively low cost of living. Yet, I was not prepared to live on my own. Okay, just think about this. Were I to live on my own, I would have had to buy furniture. Do you realize how much a couch costs?! It's ridiculous! Just furnishing my kitchen alone would have broken the bank. Oh, and beds cost an arm and a leg (and are wicked tricky to relocate). Too much, I tell you! So, I moved back into my old room and set up shop. I had rent on reasonable terms, I helped with cooking, I helped with cleaning, and I bought a tiny TV and rabbit ears for my room. Yes, I was postponing some things...like paying the heating bill and planning menus for one. I'm not going to lie, it was a great set up and I miss it occasionally. But here's the thing, I didn't see it coming. When we graduate, we're supposed to forge our way in the world all self-sufficient and independent. We're supposed to buy couches and floor lamps and maybe a decorative rug. We're supposed to be able to jingle our key rings in younger people's faces and say, "Yes, this is the key to my very own apartment" and "Isn't it just the most fun being grown up? (Insert condescending/patronizing laughter)" Sheeshkabobs.

When I moved from my parents house I moved right from the real world back into the fake one. I went back to school. I couldn't handle it otherwise! Too much, people, too much. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was continuing on the path toward Adultdom whilst trying to avoid it at all costs. That is, while I was postponing parts of the real world (read: working for a living) by going back for my Master's, I wasn't able to ignore all parts of being a grown up. This time, with this move, I really was moving out on my own. No parental cushion, no close proximity to home. Only me, my student loans, and my razor-sharp wits. Ha. Each school year I lived in Kentucky I lived with friends. I knew them before hand, we made a decision to be roommates, and it worked well both times. Easy transition, right? Then I moved to a city where I knew next to no one. Try finding a good place to live when you have no potential roommates and the cost of living is sky high. Oh, well you might have done this part already, but at the time I hadn't. Where was I going to start??

I probably started freaking out about a month before I moved. First of all, how does one decide when to move. But of course, that's tied to where one moves. Which is tied to finding a place to live. Which entirely depends on one's ability to find affordable safe living. Hello, Facebook! I was blessed to have KY friends who had DC friends who pointed me in the direction of some good classified sites run by churches. Hmmm, still a problem. I didn't know what places were safe places, what parts of the city were cooler than others. I didn't even know where anything was. Is it better to live in the District or outside it? Is it better to live in Virginia or Maryland? I found lots of affordable housing in places that turned out to be an hour away from work by car. The scariest part was knowing that most people I talked to just moved to the city and stayed in hotels for a week while they found a place. I didn't want to do that. Yikes. Plus, how do you know that when you find a roomate online, or even your own apartment, that you're not going to be living with creepies and bad landlords? Or landladies. Hahaha, landladies.

God bless friends. I knew someone who knew someone who accepted renters recommended by mutual friends. I ended up moving to Arlington, VA, and staying with a family I'd broken bread with a couple times in my life. (Aunt Jan gets a shout out here.) Oh, another blessing? Barron was with me :). I ended up living just near a metro line that took me straight into work. I got to explore the city for a month and a half while I looked for a more permanent place. By the time I moved I had a better idea of what I was looking for in my living situation. If you've read my other blog posts, you know how I found 925 and the greatness that is the cute yellow house. But my real world experience didn't stop with the move. Oh no, dear friends. It continues, because once you actually move in, that's when you start learning to live like an adult.

My parents taught me well. I was no stranger to the kitchen as a child. However, I never really got that creative gene for planning menus and throwing around names of spices like they were on my guest list for the taste bud party. Hmmm, this doesn't taste quite right...I should throw in a dash of...wait for it...I have no idea. I mean, I could clean the kitchen with the best of them, but I never had a good plan for making the mess. My Ragu spaghetti and salad meals were fine for a single woman on a high carb plan, but I longed for more. I could see visions of the beautiful foods I would make, the praise I would receive, the accolades. Okay, I didn't really care about the accolades. I just wanted a little variety. You see that picture of the pear concoction at the top of the post? That's a stuffed pear salad. Layers of juicy pear, spinach leaves, dried cranberries, feta cheese, almonds, a hint of ginger-sesame dressing, all drizzled with pure honey. It was delicious, and just look at it, all aesthetically pleasing and sitting proudly on my dining room table. I didn't make it. I tell you, I don't have the creative gene! But, I have made great strides in the domesticity department and I'm here to tell you, the situation is not hopeless. Just because, like I did, you existed on Ramen and Easy Mac and Snackwells during college doesn't mean you can't transition to a higher, more delicious standard of eating. Grown up ways deserve grown up tastes...tayz...that's never going to rhyme.

So I'm learning to cook. I have a very patient roommate who grocery shops with me and plans meals with me...I'm becoming quite the sous chef. She'll say, "Ooo wouldn't that shrimp be good with some orange marmalade, ooo maybe some ginger, oh and definitely blah blah blah." I say yes, and she's always right. It does taste good. I can't come up with that stuff, but I sure can eat it. Oh, and I can finally make an omelet!!! And I mean a real one, not just scrambled eggs with stuff in them. I have to give myself some credit. Given proper instruction I can make many edible dishes. That's progress, people.

There are other things about being domestic that come more easily to me: laundry, vacuuming, burning candles to make the house smell yummy, taking out the trash. Things I forget to do: change the air filter, change light bulbs, sweep the porch, mow the lawn, water the plants, file papers, dust my bedroom furniture. I am a very good mail sorter, though. But really, who knew all that went in to independence and living "alone." I mean, even with roommates I have more responsibilities than I care to assume.

Just one more department in the Adultdom complex I've been exploring. Domestifestivacation. You know, it really can be fun. Cause I get to do what I want. I choose my choice. And I can not do things that I'm just not in the mood to do, like dust my bedroom furniture. (It's very unsightly as some of it's black and shows dust after one day of being clean.) And when I don't feel like coming up with something uber creative and gourmet to eat, I make a giant pot of chili and eat it for days. Step two: in progress.

The Real World: Work

I am of the opinion that no one is quite prepared for this. And you know why? From age six at the latest, we're all schooled like it's our job. Okay, we're not all schooled like it's our job...I have taken a sociology class or two, after all. However, "average" middle class Americans are definitely schooled. Educated. "Prepped", if you will. Well, I won't. Nope. College doesn't prepare you for the real world. Ha! After those four glorious years of semi-independence and grown up-edness, I believed in a nice smooth (though maybe tearful) transition to the "real world." Boy was I in for a surprise. Yipes.

There are some things you just can't learn in a classroom. Like how hard it is to wake up before 9 every morning, or how difficult it is to make friends when you're not thrown into classes and dorms together. Things are so much easier in college. I mean, I can't just enroll in a Tennis I class anymore without doing some serious research. No oh-I-guess-I'll-take-it-next-semester. Now it's all, Google tennis in the area and see who offers it for the cheapest and blah blah blah blah blah. This is just one example. FYI I've given up on actually improving my tennis "game" anymore. From now on, I'll only have the skills I remember from Tennis I, spring semester, senior year 2005. And I bet regular coaches don't give you free cherry limeades from Sonic for doing well in class. Blerg.

So who's with me? I guarantee you that every one of my best friends from college has said to me at one point, "I just don't think I was meant to work." Oh, and I said it to each one of them, too. Going to class, hanging out with friends in the library whilst "studying." Yes, that feels natural. But knowing what you want to do in order to support the lifestyle to which you'd like to be accustomed, and actually getting that first job you hope will lead you down the right path to grown up bliss? Not natural for a young woman of 22. That decision is just too big for one person to make. And then once you make the decision, or you fall into it somehow, it's not always clear you've made the right decision. (Counting sick days and annual leave time and holidays and all that stuff is just flat out intimidating. It is much preferable to travel year round on the budget of independent wealth.)

I think the problem starts about sophomore or junior year of high school, and it just doesn't go away. Admittedly, we're all socialized to ask the young people what they see in their future. It's just part of normal conversation. But with those loaded questions comes so much pressure that we youngins just can't shake! People ask you these questions like, "What are you going to do?", and you're expected to answer with some form of clarity. Then, of course, if you don't know what you want to do and you admit it, some well meaning soul will tell you, "Oh there's no rush. I don't even know what I want to do and I'm 80." You appreciate the sympathy, but you think to yourself, if I don't need to know now then why is everyone and their mom asking me this question? Honestly, at that point in my life I even started making things up that sounded plausible so I wouldn't look like a clueless goon every time someone popped the question. "Um, I'm thinking about applying to law school." Yeah, right. Oh, at the time I kind of thought it could work, so it wasn't totally a lie. The point is that except for the lucky few, hardly any of us has a career plan well mapped out when we graduate college, or even grad school. I know I can't be the only one. We're just barely figuring out who we are as adults and we think we're supposed to know what the rest of our lives is going to look like.


How are we supposed to know exactly what to do after college? Some of my friends went straight into grad school, either knowing precisely what their career goals were, or just postponing the inevitable of getting a job and joining the ranks of the working people. I was blessed to find a job about a month before I graduated college, so I had that nice safety net of knowing what I was going to do come June 2005. Well, I knew what I was going to do but I didn't quite understand how to do it - how to exist outside my norm. How did one live without going to class every day? I'd been a student all my life, so I was good at it. I loved it, actually. So now came the greatest challenge of them all...working for a living. Well, I'll have you know that work is for the birds. It's just so...regular. There's so much routine and order, at least for some. It seems like the most exciting chaotic jobs only come with a lot of advance training, and I was trained to look at the world sociologically, not to cut someone's head open and do brain surgery.

Even with the best of intentions and the greatest of co-workers, work isn't always everything it's cut out to be. For those who don't know what they want to do, have no five-year plan, and don't know how what they're doing now can catapult them into what they'll be doing next, the real world can be a scary place. It certainly was for me. Of course, I did come up with a tentative five-year plan. (I kind of had to, since people still refused to stop asking me what was coming next.) I was going to work for about three years, go to grad school, and then do something...else. The "else" was still up in the air, but I had some outline for action and that was enough. Or so I thought.

The five-year plan quickly became the three year plan when I gave it greater thought. What?--I have to go to work every day from 8:30-5? No, no. You don't understand, I'm used to having 2-4 classes a day, doing some homework, maybe going to orchestra rehearsal, and then doing whatever I want. I don't understand this long day thing you've got going on here. Um, I don't quite know what you mean when you say "paid vacation." How am I not allowed to take a month off at Christmas and a full three months of summer? Hmmm, it's mid-July and I'm WORKING. I don't like this. No. Okay, this paycheck thing. How do I work that out...bills, bills, bills. Do I really need a cell phone? Car insurance isn't a have-to-have, right? Why does everything cost so much money?!?!? Of course, there were perks to the ol' working routine. I didn't have to study for a test for many moons. My weekends were completely free. I didn't have to look at my grades every semester with my fingers crossed. Nonetheless, for me the real world was too much of a shock to the system and I had to retreat. Hello, Grad School! It's me, Undecided!

Grad school it was. I just knew that this would be the answer to my problems. I would learn, I would teach, I would get my doctorate, and I would spend the rest of my days in the ivory tower, sharing my immense knowledge of sociology with all the eager young minds of the day. (Insert incredulous laugh here.)

Of course, once I got to UK my plan changed again. Oooo, being a professor isn't as awesome as I thought it would be. I have to publish how many articles? Wait, why don't professors get to focus more on teaching than they do on research? What's a CV and why do I have to do one? You want me to go to a conference and...present?!? No no no no, can't, I'm busy...every time. Well, okay I do like grading papers and giving feedback, so I can go to a smaller school with less research emphasis and focus on my teaching. Oh WAIT...I'm responsible for two classes of freshman and I'm dreading every day I have to go to that class. No, I will not give you a make up exam because you overslept! What do you mean you didn't know the assignment was due, it's on your syllabus!!! No, I will not give you an extension cause you weren't in class to hear the announcement...read your syllabus!!! Being a teacher is tough. I wasn't thrilled to be responsible for these kids' learning, and Lord knows they weren't thrilled about learning what I had to teach them. Even to this day I refuse to read my teacher evaluations. I told the admin assistant in my office to just put them in my file and never send them to me. I don't want to know what they thought of my professoring. I did inadvertently get some feedback from a student who wrote in his "fictional" paper that his Sociology TA was a fairly easy teacher and was pretty funny. Okay, I liked that he called me funny, but that was enough. I was done.

I know I'm not the only one who's faced this predicament. We think we have an idea of what we might want to do. Then we try it. We hate it. What next? Mid-stride I considered dropping out of school and getting a job, but I decided that having a Master's was a big deal and I'd really regret not having it if I left. Thank goodness I reached this realization at school and had the free chance to talk to a career counselor about my future. I took tests, I read pamphlets, I assessed my personality. I'm an ENFJ...no, INFP...okay, I really don't remember. I'd have to look through my files. (INFJ? That sounds right.) All I know is that I started realizing that exactly what job I performed wasn't as crucial to my decision-making process at the time as finding a job with the qualities I wanted to have in my work life. For example, I didn't want to deal with the public all the time, and I didn't want to work in a really high stress environment. As I reviewed the results of the various assessments I took, I noticed that Grant Writing kept popping up as a possible career path. Excellent notion, I thought. I knew I didn't want to ask people for money via voice, but I'd done Development work before and I always liked helping the Development Director work on grants. I like writing. It's a viable option, I thought. After much painful consideration, and many appointments with the UK Career Counselor, I decided to get an internship that involved grant writing. Practical experience is highly underrated. It can make or break the job search. Classroom experience turned me away from wanting to teach sociology to college underclassmen. Renting event space to brides taught me to avoid any occupation in the wedding industry. I was determined to see, ASAP, if I was cut out for grant writing.

Well, I never got the chance to find out. I took an internship with the local Girl Scouts council in Lexington, and I did all sorts of things for the Development Office. I kept up the giving database, I helped organize fund raisers, I took control of stewardship for annual giving. I researched funding opportunities for our grant writer. What I did NOT do was write grants. Ever. Not once. But you know what? I didn't mind that much. Through the most unexpected of ways, I gained enough experience to steer me in the direction of Development and Advancement Services. By the time I was ready to start applying for jobs, I knew what kind of job I was looking for...ish. I stuck to the higher ed and non-profit sector, and I applied for jobs in Development. I'll have you know that I never anticipated doing this kind of work. It never popped into my head as a possibility for making a living. However, through all my bumps, experiments and stumbles, I found something I knew I could do with relative satisfaction so I could pay my bills and start paying off my student loans.

So that's how I ended up at the Smithsonian. I applied for about 25 jobs online through various fundraising org websites, and I got two interviews. One in DC, and one in Boston. I arrived in DC on February 26th for my interview with no expectations. I didn't know if this would be a good fit for me, but I thought it was worth finding out. I'm glad I did. I knew after the interview that I wanted to work for the Smithsonian, and I wanted to live in DC. But here's the thing - I only knew what I wanted for the short term. And I was okay with it. My interviewer asked me what my career goals were, and I made something up that sounded horribly naive and convoluted. I didn't fool anyone. She and I both knew that I had no clue where I wanted to go in my career. In fact, I still don't know and I've been gainfully employed for over 5 months. I enjoy gift processing, and the whole Advancement Services field intrigues me. But long term?

Well, I've decided that I don't have to have career goals or any sort of long term plan. Why should I? After several years of worries and anxiety, I've realized that I can do just as well when I don't try to look at the whole picture at once. The way my life has gone thus far, I know I'll look back in 30 years and think, Oh, that's how I got here. Until then, I won't know exactly where the ol' job road is leading me. I tend to fall into situations. I learn something, I meet people, I find out a little bit more about what I do and don't want in a job, and I fall into something else. And that works for me. I wish I could tell everyone graduating from college that it's okay not to know. I wish someone had told me that I would really find my way more by accident than by design. Maybe people tried to tell me, but I was too freaked out by growing up to really listen.

Naturally, with all this new found wisdom, I chose to move to a city where everyone my age is only here for a bit. It's such a transition city that no one expects any DC 20-something to be here for the long term. So you know what socially acceptable questions we DC strangers ask one another? That's right, "How long do you plan on staying in DC? Do you think you'll stay here or move on to something else?" Oh good grief! Well, at least I can say with greatest confidence that I just don't know. "We'll see," I say. Mmmm, I just love the promised adventure of that phrase.

The real world is a shock to the system for those of us fortunate enough to enjoy life without it for the first 22 years of our existence. The very rhythm of it all is overwhelming. There are so many facets of being an adult that I never anticipated. There's so much to do, so much to pay. But I have one thing figured out: I don't have to have things figured out. Work will be. I will work. Where I work will be determined on an as-need basis. Step 1, complete.

Election Day

I guess elections are a pretty big deal when you live in the capital of anything. The government's hub, if you will. Every day I come home to leaflets, pamphlets and flyers littering my front stoop. Vote Obama, Vote McCain, Time for Change! Blahdeeblooblahbloopers. At least once a day some well meaning campaign volunteer knocks on the door of 925 to find out who I'm voting for and if I need more information on his/her candidate. Don't judge me, but sometimes I just tell people I'm voting for whoever their candidate is. It makes them leave me alone. Or sometimes, if I answer the door with my phone to my ear it makes them go away quicker. Tactics, people.

These past few days have been the worst. Now it's at least twice a day that volunteers stop by. Near the metro stops they congregate in throngs, jumping up and down and yelling at me to vote. Seriously, that actually happens with the jumping and everything. When I get off the metro there are at least four people standing at the top of the escalators, homemade banners waving ferociously in the breeze. Can banners wave ferociously? Well, they do here. Yipes. It's madness, I tell you. Utter madness. I feel like a celebrity. People follow me around, asking me my opinion & telling me how to pose--er, vote. This has been happening for a month now, you realize. Cute elderly folk would sit in the metro just past the gates and give people forms to register to vote. Voting lines have been long as all get out. Not for me though, this ponky voted absentee-style. For whom? None of your dang business.

Government employees don't get Election Day off. Ridiculous, right? I know! We get Inauguration Day off, which is a pretty sweet deal - what with MLK, Jr. day it makes for a nice 4-day weekend right before my bday - but I want today off! They don't know that I don't need to go vote. What if the line is 4 hours long? I should have excused absences! Maybe I need to have a 5 hour prayer vigil before I vote, and then I have to wait in a 6 long hour line. They need to respect me! Oh well, I can't have everything. I do get a holiday a week from today for Veteran's Day, so I really shouldn't complain. Ohp, too late.

So did you vote yet? If I hear that question one more time, I'm going to take out a giant ink stamp that says YES I VOTED, FOOL and pound it straight into homey's forehead. Donezo. Homey don't play that. I'll tell you what homey does play, though...online election coverage during work hours. Yes, that's right. Fine, if you're going to make me work I'm going to keep refreshing Washingtonpost.com like it's my job all day long. As my friend Q says, "I like watching the states turn colors." Totally brill.

So in other random news, I went to my first (and not last) Coldplay concert on Halloween. It was AMAZING. I love when people are awesome live and not just on a doctored album. No, I did not dress up. I don't do costumes. Overrated. But I did jam out and take lots of pictures on my cell phone cause I forgot my camera. Of course, I don't know how to upload the photos to my computer. So you'll just have to picture it in your mind's eye. Coldplay, the Verizon Center, Chinatown DC, me and my roommate Kristen, section 205. Good visual. The band came into the audience at one point to play a quick set and they were only about 60 feet from me. AHHHHHH! Love love love love love them. Alright, gushing over.

Next on the random list, orchestra. We had two concerts last month, and the second one went a lot better for me than the first one did. Mainly, I was well rested. Secondly, I was focused on the notes and better rehearsed. We played at the Church of the Epiphany in downtown DC, and it was great. I love playing in churches, especially when playing sacred music. It just fits. We had a really good turn out, so hopefully people will spread the word about the orchestra. Now that our first concert is behind us, we've started rehearsals for our December shows. You know what that means...Christmas music!!! YAY YAY YAY YAYYYYYYY! I have a hard and fast rule for myself, as do many, that I will not listen to Christmas music before Thanksgiving. I want to give that important holiday its due. However, I just can't help it that I have to rehearse "Coventry Carol" and "I Saw Three Ships" and more before that day. I mean, I have to do it. Sho hate it, she says quite facetiously. WMP is hosting a guest artist for the Christmas...oops, sorry, Holiday...concert and she's fiddling along to some classic Christmas melodies. I'm excited about that part. I do love a good fiddle session. In fact, I've been listening to my Natalie McMasters CD a lot recently. All I want to do is jig around to some good Irish tunes. Story of my life.

Anyhoo, I suppose that's the word. Oh, I should probably tell you that the picture on this post is a little old. It's from this summer when my friends Katie and Alexandra came to visit me and we went to the Lincoln Memorial. I was moved to make a speech...to the ground, apparently. Either that or I'm a very demonstrative reader. Bye bye.