Celebrate Good TImes...C'mon!

I am in New York City at least once a month. I have family there, I have friends there, I have a lot of memories there. But I'm not quite sure I could ever live there.

There are a lot of reasons in favor of my someday moving to NYC. My brother and his wife live there and will probably always live close by. They just had a daughter, my niece Lena Rose, who I am determined to be close to both physically and emotionally for her entire childhood life. Two out of the four (only four!) schools that have the graduate program I am looking for are located in NYC. New York is close to my former home town in NJ. There's always something to do. There's always someone around. And many if not most of my friends will move here eventually.

And yet, I've never felt comfortable there. Any time my skirt is cut a bit short or my top a bit low I feel self-conscious. I feel like every man I pass is leering at me. And I've never felt like that in Boston. Sure, Boston has it's sketchy areas, many of which I've frequented over the course of my college education, but I've always felt the undeniable sense that Bostonians look out for one another. People will hold the door for you or come to your aid if you trip or let you take the first cab or stand up on the T so you can take their seat. Men, specifically, are not nearly as scary in Boston. Once in a while I'll get a whistle but a man would never grab at me just because he felt like it. And in fact, if that did happen in Boston, I'd bet hard cash that any nearby male witnesses would spring into action to defend the aforementioned damsel in distress.

I'm the kind of person that people are almost always nice to. It's a running joke in my family that I'm destined to marry a cab driver because about half the times I've taken a cab, the driver has professed his deepest darkest secrets to me and then bestowed upon me his "card" so that I can call him "day or night, whenever I need a ride." When I took a cab out of Brooklyn last night, my cab driver and I belted "Celebrate Good Times, C'Mon!" on the freeway at midnight. It was a hilariously typical moment for me. But despite my natural ability to dazzle strangers, people are not that nice to me in New York. When I smile at them, they don't always smile back. When I hold the door for them, they don't always make eye contact, let alone say thank you. I have the unsettling sense that New York City would crush my spirit. And I don't want that to happen. It's nice being nice.

Someday there may be no logical choice but to move to the city. At least I'll have a few more years in my hometown of choice to mentally prepare.

To Work Or Not To Work

I don't quite understand what people mean when they say that their career "chose them." And yet, it seems that all the happiest individuals invariable utilize this cliche. And this being the case, it's quite worrisome that I haven't felt an intense draw towards one profession or another yet in my life.

I know I want to work with kids. At least, I'm 85% sure that for most of my life I will want to work with kids. But these days there are a trillion different ways to help children. Do I want to work one-on-one or take the command of a group? Do I want to work with normal kids or kids with developmental disorders and disabilities? Which kinds of disorders? Which kinds of disabilities? What age kids? Lord send me a sign because I'm sadly stumped.

I think I might want to be an elementary school teacher. I also think I might want to be a therapist. I also think I need to stop thinking so much. I suppose I can always change careers. Again, and again, and again. I don't know where I'll be two years from now or two years from then. Hopefully Vietnam or Chile. Maybe in New York City with my brother and beautiful niece, maybe not. Maybe I'll be a marine biologist. Only time will tell.

Orthodox Jews on Animal Rights

Tonight the concept was posed to me that while the Torah (and Bible) contains strict law forbidding the harm or torture of any animal, human beings are still considered above them. According to this Rabbi, although animals could display many if not most of the same emotions as humans, their inferior intellect means that humans shall always reign supreme. Human beings are special.

I do not agree.

This view point makes several assumptions that are flat out wrong. First, this supposes that some almighty power has made the executive decision that humans be special. But existential biology would emphasize that humans are the result of natural selection. We are the way we are entirely by chance and it might have been any other phylum of animal that made this ascent towards intellect. Furthermore, all animals in existence are a result of natural selection. Not just humans. This means that each species is perfect in and of itself. And even if one assumes that some higher power exists, then she must have been perfectly content with each creature she created. Each one uniquely different from the next. Each one perfect. Each one special.

Now this view point also assumes that humans are special because they were made in God's image, while other species were not. More specifically, this view assumes that being made in God's image is a positive thing. It may not be. God is a lone wolf. She has no meaningful relationships to speak of, frequent mood swings, and temper tantrums. And yet, she is a cocky bastard. She believes herself to be the greatest power in the universe, and asks us to worship her. And she has the audacity to create billions of beings "just like her"- arrogant, self-centered, and ignorant of their own insignificance. A wise man once told me that I should not believe everything I read. Well I read in the Bible that God is all-powerful, and that myself- along with the rest of the human populace- was made in her image. In all likeliness, this is not a good thing.

And a person who claims humans are greater than all other species due to our intellect is also assuming that our intellect is greater than that of any other animal. I don't really buy into this either. There are things animals understand and communicate with one another that humans couldn't possibly comprehend. Have you ever been to a greyhound convention? These dogs are abused, starved, and forced to race to survive for years of their lives. And when you attend a convention for dogs rescued from these horrid conditions: silence. Greyhounds do not bark at one another. Not at all. They do not need any sort of verbalization to communicate, and are thusly much more advanced than many of the humans I know, who for some reason cannot express themselves even with the entire English dictionary at their disposal. Elephants have better memory spans than humans. Octopi can navigate mazes and trick their handlers to steal fish. Squirrels are able to hide food in numerous locations, then retrieve it months later. Dolphins have their own language and use tools in their natural environment. Chimpanzees can learn sign language, and exhibit levels of empathy I've seen lack in many humans. Animals are a hell of a lot smarter than we think.

So perhaps before asserting that human beings are the center of the universe, we should reassess whether humans could even be considered the most important living beings on this planet. We shouldn't believe everything we read.

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.