How to Lose the Cushiest Job on the Planet

A little background info: I work in a swanky apartment building at 81 Beacon Street. I'm the front desk/concierge person there. This means that I literally sit at a desk for 6 to 8 hours at a time, and my only job is to get up and open the door for the residents. There are only 20 residents. And they're all so inconceivably rich that they are rarely all in the building at once. They fly south for winter. And spend their weekends in this or that five star hotel in this or that country. Typically, I might come in contact with two residents per hour. Often less. The rest of the time I'm specifically instructed to do whatever I want (mainly homework and watching TV). And yet, I'm in fear of losing my job.

This is a cautionary tale.

1. Refrain from setting fires.

My first day of work I managed to set a sandwich on fire in a toaster oven, causing the entire first floor to fill up with smoke. Had the fire gone on just a few minutes longer, the alarms would have went off and the entire building would have been evacuated. And the sprinklers would have gone off. Needless to say, they took away the toaster oven.

2. Refrain from visiting pornographic sites while on the job.

At work, I frequently watch TV shows I've missed, from "illegal" sites. These types of sites often have ads and popups for bizarre fetish websites. On more than one occasion now, my boss has come behind my desk to see an enormous ad for "barely legal" girl on girl action strewn across my screen.

On second thought, this might be the only reason I've kept my job this long.

3. Do your job.

With a job description as simple as "open door when residents arrive," it might seem downright impossible to screw up. And yet. I sit about a yard from the front door, and can hear and see when people enter the building, so that door is rarely a problem. However the back door to the residence is a short sprint away. And even when I see a resident entering the building from a monitor, the distance between them and the backdoor is half that between myself and the same place.

At this point, the residents here probably think I jog in place on the job, because every time I greet them at the back, I'm out of breath. There have been times when I've tripped and fallen trying to get to the door in time. There have been times when I've been this close to making it, and nearly ran into them because I was just a second too late.

4. Do not write blog posts about your job while on the job.

My boss just walked in.
I attempted to change the screen quickly so he wouldn't know I was writing about him.
The screen I changed it to had several ads for Naughty School Girls.
My life.

Lessons Learned at a Summer Internship

I've spent maybe a week at each of my psych internships this summer, but somehow the experience has managed to considerably narrow down where I want to go in life. First off, I get bored easily. There isn't a lot that I'll find consistently challenging or interesting, and still enjoy. Now it seems the rule PhD's in psychology is that one can become a practitioner, a researcher, a teacher, or some combination of the three. Now I like academics, but that's not where I would jump to right out of grad school. And I definitely enjoy research, but the problem with research is that it can get repetitive. The excitement is slowly sucked from it the longer you're stuck on one topic, one task. And for the most part, you never get to see the results. So the first thing I've figured out is that I definitely want to work with people, no matter what the setting. A human being is the only thing that could constantly challenge me, never get repetitive (even with those stubborn patients who refuse to abandon their self-destructive ways). So it looks like I'm getting a clinical degree!

And the second thing I've figured out over the last few weeks is that I hate being underestimated. I hate taking jobs where I have to do work that's below me. And I hate being treated like I can't do work above what any person fluent in English could do. And this probably means that whatever I end up doing, if I'm not my own boss or working at a high level with lots of chances to be promoted, then i won't be happy. Let's see what else I can figure out this year.

Mortality and the Meaning of Life

It seems like most people don't think much about death. Young people smoke and drink and eat crap, giving no thought to how their actions today might affect their lifespan later on. But the root of this problem goes a lot deeper, because most people driving down the road with a cigarette in one hand will eventually think to themselves "I should really quit smoking." What they won't think to themselves is "I'm about to get in a car accident and die;" that is, not until it's too late.

Mortality is always something far away, permanently out of reach. But the truth is it could be seconds away, for any person, at any moment. And there's nothing anyone can do about that. Human beings like to be in control; they love to think of themselves as independent beings with free will and the ability to create their own future. Thus, most try not to worry themselves thinking about their own demise. It's an uncontrollable thing, the inevitable finale to even the greatest of performances. And this is entirely understandable because if any single person were to spend more than a few seconds a day thinking about death, if anyone was to truly comprehend how close death could be, it would cripple them.

So we keep on setting goals and shuffling forward with an expectancy that we have all the time in the world. Kids say that when they grow up they'll cure cancer, save the world, and complete all the idealistic goals a child might dream of. But that's just the thing: kids say they'll do all the things they would be remembered for when they become "adults," but at what age does adulthood start? When a kid still lives with his or her parents they believe adulthood starts at college, but a college student will say that it can only start afterwards. And a college graduate with an entry level job will explain that one can only be an adult capable of changing the world when he or she achieves job security: more money, more responsibility, etc.And someone in this ideal situation with a lucrative job will look towards the middle aged and retired, claiming it's only after a full career that someone might have the time to leave their mark on the world. Then of course, the retirees say it's the young kids' job to change the world.

When it comes to the meaning of life, a lot of people say that personal happiness is key: we should do what brings us true happiness, and as long as we have led a happy life, then it was a life well-lived. But personally, I think this is pretty self-centered. When I'm gone, no one is going to remember me for how happy I was. That was an internal process, one experienced only within myself. No, my friends and family and future patients will remember me for the affect I had on their lives. They'll remember the times I made them laugh, and how I changed their lives for the better, brought them happiness. To lead a meaningful life, one should aspire to bring happiness into the lives of others. It's as simple as that. And this is not to say that someone should forgo his or her own happiness just to make their daddy proud; anyone who loves you enough that you would want to make them proud would be proud of you for being happy.

Many people wonder how they will have left this world different when they finally pass. But then they push back that one life-altering moment when they will begin to "change the world." Our accomplishments cannot define us. Accomplishments are superficial and impermanent. But the people we meet, from acquaintances to loved ones, are quite immortal. If you save a man's life, he'll tell his children about the gift you gave him, and his children will someday tell their own children about that man or woman who saved their father's life. So take the time today to think a little harder about how your actions affect others. Take a few minutes to brighten someone's day. Because that will be your legacy.

That's it?

I was always under the impression that college meant big things. I could go out and "be what I wanted to be." I could change the world: cure cancer, end genocide, et cetera, et cetera. But at almost any university a young adult could end up at, this is not the case. You still take classes that are both unenjoyable and inapplicable to what you wish to study. Those who claim to be older and wiser still delineate what you can and can't do. And though these rules tend to be more lax than those instilled by one's parents, these "adults" lack the authority of the adults who raised us. A legal adult should not still be restricted by a group of jerks who claim to be "more adult" than the college students they torment. After waiting so long to be considered an adult, to be treated like an intelligent human being who can make rational decisions for his or herself, all I can think after a year in college is: That's it?

Maybe it's just me but college wasn't so huge of a change. Sure I had to do my own laundry, scrounge up my own food, and get my ass to class on time, but this wasn't such a change from my time in high school. The idea that some kids could become so overwhelmed, so homesick that they'd need to leave, seems somewhat pathetic to me. What's the big deal? College is fine. It's not some fantastic experience where you go crazy every weekend, but it's good. I get to spend less time in class, less time on homework, get up late, skip class, and have no one watching my every move. You pick what you want to study (to some degree), pick out how you want to spend your free time, and voila: that's your newfound "independent" life for ya. And I can't help feeling a little underwhelmed.

The Beginning to Some Story...

            You wake up. The soft coos of an owl lull you out of the darkness from which you came into the first throb of a vicious headache; cricket chirps reach your ears. You notice that your feet are bare, and the ground seems like a dense sponge beneath your feet. It breathes with you. Then evergreen fills your nostrils and you feel the leaves crunch between your toes in sharp snaps that might be heard for miles around, and you know you’re outside.

Sit up; then stand. A step forward and some grotesque wall assaults you from the front. Your hands spastically feel in front of you- a desperate attempt at self preservation- and come in contact with a distinct texture: bark. Like some immense miniature maze, you let your hands follow the crevices as you side step your way around the left side of the tree. A throb brings your hands up to cradle your aching skull, but you flinch away in cold shock. Your hands are wet, maybe even sticky, so you walk towards the sound of flowing water.

On the way you trip once or twice; it’s slightly downhill. But the harsh whisper of the rushing water serves as your North Star, and soon the tips of your toes touch cool, clean relief. Kneeling by the side of the stream, you let your arms drop beside you and your hands touch the cathartic cure below. What had tainted your hands and left you so confused and overwhelmed rushes away from you with the current.

Finally calm again, you let yourself sit back on edge of the stream, let yourself feel the sunlight on your face. And like a sixteen-wheeler heading down rt. 88 doing 80 mph, it hits you; you can feel the sun, but can’t see it. The world around you is black, and all that’s in it is dark, colorless, nothing. But the sun can burn your face and the twigs pinch the heels of your feet and wind bite against your cold, brittle skin. You know you’re alive, that’s no longer the worry. But the world is empty, and you’ve been dropped in the middle of it.

Take a breath in, and then let it out. Now, repeat. Staying calm is key because when your heart starts stomping out fast paced parades about your body and up on into your brain, you can’t hear the water steam off the surface of a puddle in the heat of the midday sun, or the soft tread of a chipmunk bustling about its business to your right, or the crisp echo of a gunshot miles away. It’s the listening that saves you; using every ounce of brainpower that once served your visual cortex and redirecting it to sound, smell, and touch. Self-reliance in the most primal of ways.

And that intrinsic knowledge of my ability to persevere was key when a moment later I had an epiphany. All at once I realized that not only was I alone in a forest with no recollection of how I got there, but also, I was blind. Luckily, I realized a tenth of a second later that the blindness was nothing new.

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I'm not too sure where I want to go with this, or if it will go anywhere. But the idea came to mind and I needed to get it down. 

I Hate(?) College

Lately, I've been overcome with an increasing fear that I have completely lost my ability to write coherently. In losing this ability, I of course would be doomed to flunk out of college (Boston University!), be kicked out of my parents house in the deserted land of New Mexico, and inevitably be forced to acquire some sort of low income job at a fast food joint. So to prove to myself that this is not my inescapable fate, I've opted to write this post.

College, in and of itself, is fucking scary. With making friends, finishing homework assignments and term papers, feeding oneself, and avoiding the Freshman 15 to worry about, it's a wonder most kids don't drop out after the first few weeks and retreat to the comfortable bosoms of their mothers.

But on the other hand, I'm truly looking forward to the opportunity to learn about what I want, with teachers that don't suck, and get involved in all the areas that I WANT to, as opposed to waiting around for a high school group to spontaneously form that would encompass my every interest.

And then, of course, there's the fact that I might actually kiss the ground once I get out of New Mexico and back to the United States. Never have I craved the city, traffic, taxis, subways, and unsolicited rudeness on the streets so much. I am not a rural girl. And though Albuquerque might be dubbed a city by some, the truth can be observed quite clearly. Albuquerque is a big town. I will admit, the area is beautiful. But the beauty of thousands of headlights, multicultural cab drivers, graffiti on the streets, and the endless supply of sounds and smells found only in a city are to me, far more dazzling than a mountain range to my east.

Personally, I find the miracle of thousands upon thousands of human beings living together in one gigantic bustling community that nevertheless functions with dazzling ease a far greater beauty than nature alone. A psychologist at heart, I find human interaction far more beautiful than a few big piles of rocks. And though a place like Albuquerque, with its heart stopping skyline and rich landscapes, not to mention a deep culture of native american and mexican roots, is nice for a visit, the city will always be my home.

I get bored easily. And the countryside, despite all its positive attributes, just isn't for me. Boston, here I come =)

Courage

Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear. ~Ambrose Redmoon

I wish more people today could take a statement like this to heart. Our country, and all the people in our country, is transfixed in a state of perpetual fear. The driving force behind all political acts made today is fear. On a personal level, all social decisions are based off of fears. The people fear the government, the government fear the anarchists, the anarchists fear the religious, the religious fear the terrorists..or are the terrorists, and we all fear God. We all fear that there is no God. We all fear each other. We all fear ourselves.
When elementary school kids 100 years from now study this phase of American history, their teachers will explain to them that this, the 21st century, was the Age of Fear. It is what we will be remembered by, despite anything and everything that has happened and will happened; and this is fact. The unyielding and widespread epidemic of fear in our nation will trump any other detail of our existence during this century, just as it trumps any other detail of our every day lives.
We live in fear. We'll die in fear. We'll be remembered for our fear..And I've got to say, it kind of sucks. But I'm not about to attempt to convince an entire nation full of people that they have no reason to be afraid, and that everything will be fine if you just think positive.