Al: Because...Jobs (Part 1)

As long as I can remember I’ve had a job. I got my first job at 15 at a Christmas tree farm in Dixon. It was hard work. We were outside rain or shine making sure everyone had their perfect, most magical Christmas tree. I spent most of the time slightly soggy with burns all over my hands—I was never very good at working the popcorn and free cider machines. Although the scars have faded (mostly), the lessons I learned at the job, the work ethic that I uncovered, the love of financial freedom, and the best friend that I made while working there are all still intact.

From that moment on I decided that there was no reason for me not to work. From that moment on, I officially joined the hoards of people all over the work that we refer to as “work-a-holics” and I have never looked back. In high school I had at least one, if not two jobs all the time. In college I worked almost full time all the way through. After college, even though I was working full time I began working for a caterer, bartending, and coordinating weddings to keep busy and pay the bills.

That is where this journey begins for me. I’ve always worked for the sake of working, to not be a burden on my parents, and to feel the financial freedom that I first felt at 15. But I hit a point where I realized that I’ve never actually chosen a job or a career. I’ve always taken the first job offered to me and jumped in full force. I’ve never asked myself “ok Allison, what do you want to do? When you go to your future children’s career day, what do you want to stand up and tell a class full of 3^rd graders is the dream you have created for yourself?”  

So my plan is to explore. Try new careers, find things I like, things I’m good at an go from there. If I can figure out a way to turn traveling, outdoors adventuring, reading, writing, or animals into a career, I will. But for now I’m really just exploring my options. Along this journey, I have set some ground rules for myself:

1.       I refuse to be unemployed for more than 2 weeks at any point, even if it means taking a random job for a week or two, including, but not limited to cleaning out closets, garages, and reorganizing craft/ storage rooms (all of which I have done so far and loved, minus the killing an army of black widow part).

2.       I will try to save as much money as possible for Costa Rica and possibly future travels (SE Asia, Machu Picchu, etc) but I also refuse to become a financial burden on my parents.

3.       I will not tie myself down to any job I am unhappy with.

4.       At this point, I will not take a job that has more than a three month commitment.

5.       I will feel free to turn down any job that I don’t want (and already have).

6.       I will apply for everything.

After my first week of unemployment I knew I needed something, so with these ground rules in place, I began searching for jobs. Within a week I had been hired to work on a city council election campaign, where a friend of mine was currently working. Although I’ve mentioned this campaign before, I think it’s important for me to delve a little further, not into getting doors slammed in my face, but into the actual people I work with. Every job teaches you something, and while I am learning a lot from this job, the major take away message that I am getting is a clear concise message of diversity.

Working on a political campaign sounds glamorous. I’m fairly certain my friends are under the impression that I’ve suddenly transformed into Olivia Pope and spend my days looking fabulous and covering up all of the wild stories in politics. They keep asking if my job is anything like Scandal or The Good Wife, when in reality, it’s much better than that. Comedies are way better than dramas, jeans and tennis shoes are much better than $1,000 suits (that one might be up for debate) and spending our days laughing and building relationships with each other and the people in our district is much more rewarding than I imagined it would be. The perfect comparison is when Leslie Knope runs for city council in Parks and Rec. We are an eclectic, quirky, unbelievably diverse crew working hard to get the best guy elected to do his best job possible for Sacramento. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. The amount of variety in our six or seven person team is unbelievable.

Our candidate is a nice guy, something I was never sure I’d say about a politician. He and his wife and kids surprise us with late night Taco Bell. He spends his weekend walking the street with us, talking to voters, even in the incredibly unsafe neighborhoods, which is definitely a rarity for Sacramento politicians. His parents moved to the US from India and he takes incredible pride in Sacramento and sees such potential in our growing city. He really cares about the local politics, but he’s strong enough and well spoken enough that he is ready to go to DC if necessary to fight for necessary FEMA funding that Sacramento, especially South Natomas (the neighborhood I grew up in) desperately needs.

Our campaign manager is our token white guy. He’s unbelievably smart and incredibly well spoken. He’s 27 (same age as me) which astounds me. He’s well put together and sometimes I feel like I’m getting smarter just listening to him talk. He has the sweetest girlfriend, who is always willing to lend a helping hand. When we all leave at night she is just getting there to help with things. Her dedication to something that he is so passionate about is a quality that I admire and believe is important in a relationship. It’s fantastic to see and something I hope to find in a future spouse. She also seems pretty fun, maybe I’ll see if she wants to join me for happy hour sometime!

The rest of our crew is a bit hilarious really. We have the future lawyer, about to take the bar (my friend that got me the job). He’s an incredible mix of half Latino, half Black, although it would be hard to guess his ethnicity just looking at him. He’s what I believe a lot of our future generations will begin to look like as racial and ethnic lines start to blur. His sense of humor is sassy and sarcastic, but is always great to be around while walking for 6-8 hours. Our next Hispanic man is a bit younger than me and looks, sounds, and seems like every other white college kid. The day I found out he was Hispanic, I’m pretty sure someone had to pick my jaw up off the floor. He’s somewhat soft spoken, but is starting to open up. He seems incredibly smart though and his phone skills are unbelievably refined. The same day I was hired, another Hispanic man was hired as well. On the outside, he’s a little more of what I think of as a stereotype. He is in his late 30s with a wife and two young daughters. He’s a reformed gang member/ drug dealer/ alcoholic/ drug addict, who has spent the last 5-10 years really getting his life together. He normally works construction, but there are no jobs available right now and his babies need to eat. But he’s great at this job. People listen to him and he can relate to some of the voters in a way that the rest of us haven’t figured out how to do.

Although I am a fairly small, blond haired, young woman, I have never felt unsafe when walking through neighborhoods with any of these guys. Recently we hired two more people: a middle aged woman who is a bit overweight and keeps talking about wanting to go to Mexico because she’s never been on a vacation and a young African American man who just moved to the area and is working two jobs, desperately trying to find a place to live. We also have random friends and family members of our candidate that help us out. And then there’s me, and by now you are quickly learning just how eccentric and quirky I am.

There is no question in my mind that we make up our own version of Leslie Knope’s campaign team (our campaign manager even says literally just like Rob Lowe’s character Chris Traeger as “lit-re-lly”). I am enjoying learning and being a part of this unique team. It’s very easy to live your life thinking there is only one way to live and do things, but my eyes are “lit-re-lly” being opened each day. I am becoming aware of political issues, social issues, and personal issues faced by diverse groups of people throughout my home town. I count myself lucky to be able to have this kind of experience. The knowledge I am gaining is something I hope to continue in the future.

For now, we’re gearing up for election week. I’m probably going to spend this week walking so much I won’t be able to stand, making so many phone calls I’ll never want to look at a phone again, and counting so many poll numbers that I’ll forget to count. And I can’t wait!

Until next time,

Al

Char: Oh Crap!

Oh Crap! Is my first thought. My dream dream job is officially within my grasp…BUT. That big ol’ BUTT. UGH. Things were coming together perfectly. My wonderful beautiful amazing boyfriend and best friend got a job offer. We say, it’s a dream job, but not in a dream location. We tell people, it could be a worse location, in the California Desert. It pays well, it’s a good start, and he got the job by charming people with his good looks and killer charm at a 2 day hiring event that he was invited to. Fate is wonderful. “The Plan.”

This past summer I got a taste of perfection for myself. In college I found my identity, my most favorite version of myself, through a program called Week of Welcome. Working as a student leader in the school’s orientation program (WOW), gave me a sense of purpose, a chance to grow and be challenged, a chance to mature, and helped me understand who I was, and who I wanted to be. Some might call this experience transformative.  I felt that I had given back to my community in a way I never thought possible. I made best friends and I met the sexy beast described above.  The next year my application was denied. My personality was too big, my thoughts challenged others, and ultimately, I was declined a second opportunity for another transformative experience. I cried. Hard. For a week straight. Heaving crying. Leaning against the wall wondering if anyone would ever appreciate me again crying. It was embarrassing. I’ll move on.

Obviously I survived. I’m still here, sitting in Panera typing about the emotions without breaking down. Not only did I survive, but maybe more surprising to the rest of you, my passion for student leadership and orientation survived.  After following SB to Penn State, I found myself with an opportunity to complete a Master’s Degree that would set me up for a professional career in Student Leadership. A.maze.ing. I was helped along and found my way into the Student Conduct Office (which I will write about later). In a conversation with my supervisor, she opened the dusty old door to my professional orientation dream, and it all started. After a quick personal interview with one of the program assistant directors, I started my summer long internship with New Student Orientation at Penn State.

The energy was wild, the people were good, and the students exactly like I remember them: bold, unafraid, and always struggling to find or defend their true selves (as college students should be doing). I fell in love again, this time stronger than ever.

The best part about this summer graduate internship was that I received validation that I’m actually pretty good at this work. Where I fall short, my passion encourages me to get back up, apologize for sucking, and move forward with purpose and a little dreaming.  As the internship progressed, I was asked to take on more responsibility, which was terrifying, and yet so fantastic for me. I was given unbelievable opportunities. Two rounds of orientation (out of 33), I was asked to run the entire program and be the face of Penn State for incoming parents. The internship began with an idea about creating a student leader self-assessment program and ended with me representing 100,000 students (plus faculty and staff) in welcoming new Penn Staters into the family. It was incredible.  To be honest, I’m still not entirely sure what happened, but I knew I started and ended the entire experience smiling like a fool.

The experience ended with all smiles, and then it was over. Back to the grind. I started the semester sort-of strong, completed my summer follow-up requirements and started in on the research papers, the readings, and everything else that #gradlife entails. We were graduating in December, and then moving to the start of SB’s dream job.

Then I got a text message. The student coordinator position that I had dreamt about was open and an application would be sent out soon. At Penn State.

I’m qualified for this position. When the description comes out, I will be able to check off a majority of the “requirements” listed. The people know me. I know the program. I know what to expect. I know how to succeed in the program and in the office, and I know how to fail. I know how high the standards are and I’ve seen why. It would be an insane amount of work, and I’ve already seen the outcome, so I can be 100% certain that it would be worth it.

Applying would uproot the next 5 years of my life plan.

SB will be in Maryland at his dream job with my future life. But where will I be?

Love, Char

Char: Defining My Values

The past few weeks of my life have been dominated by everyone else. I have been listening and responding. I have been following through (mostly) on duties expected of me by others. I have been making school a priority, but after that comes everyone else. I’ve been a strange version of myself, one I am not keen to continue being. I have been focusing on following through with others so much that I have neglected the things that make me me. My positivity! Smiling! Dedicating time to being creative, relaxing, and spending tme with the people (and animal) that I love! All of the things that sustain me have been neglected. And that is simply not okay! I’m putting my foot down. I’m getting back to the basics.

But first I need to define the basics. By identifying several personal values, I will be able to re-prioritize and be able to go to sleep every night feeling accomplished. But that only comes once I know who I am, and how to stay true to myself. So this is me trying to define myself. 

Charlotte's Road Map to Motivation

Faith. I have faith that things will be okay, I have faith in my students that they can make healthy decisions if they decide that they want to. I have faith that I am doing everything I can to make my last semester in school as meaningful as possible. I know I need to have more faith in myself (some might call this trusting my gut. I would agree.)

 

Creativity. I am creative. I have good unique ideas. When I make time to be artistically creative, I am happy. I want to go take pictures in the fall, spend time editing and adding to my blog, and holy moly I’ve got to get started on my Christmas cards! I know that my ideas are good. I need to act on them.

Curious. I love to read and learn. I need to embrace this for my classes and just do this more. This can also be reinforced by my drive to make sure I’m embracing the last semester of Penn State and State College. Let’s explore! I want to try the new restaurant, I want to read new novels and books and then talk about them. 

Hopeful. I am a positive person. I try to approach everything with an open mind and an eye for opportunity. I am always hopeful for the best. I think things can work out and that it’s important to success to maintain a positive attitude and always have hope. 

Courageous. I am courageous. Sometimes things are difficult and scary. And that’s okay. It’s good to scare the crap out of myself sometimes. I believe in the power of doing one thing every day that scares me. I believe that this is how I will continue to grow as I live my life. Try the hotter sauce on those buffalo wings! What’s the worst that can happen? No matter what, I can try scary things and I will survive another day.

These are my personal values. These are the perspectives with which I want to live my life. I want to be able to feel fulfilled by making decisions based on these principles every day. Now I simply need to hold myself to them. Can I do it? Yes. Will it be hard? Yes. Could I mess up? Yes. Faith, creativity, curiosity, hope, and courage. These are the things that I pledge to live my life by. I’ll tell you how it goes next week.

Love, Char

Al: Finding Peace with Both Sides post 11/5

I had just made a decision that would impact the rest of my life. But when you’re in the moment those decisions don’t seem all that dramatic. There is no suspenseful or sad music, there is no flashing lights or dramatic pauses. They are just moments, and the choices we make in those moments don’t seem that extreme. But it was done. No use crying over it; or was there? Either way it didn’t matter because once a decision like that is made there is no way to unmake it. The next two weeks went by in a chaotic, bipolar flurry. One minute the explorer in me would be ecstatic about my new adventure, searching maps and looking up job posts all around the world. The next minute, the homemaker would have a complete meltdown while trying to clean out the fridge. I rarely slept and refused to even consider sleeping in our bed. I pulled a mattress pad into the living room and attempted to sleep on that. I began to question not only this choice, but all of those that had led me to this point.  As I packed up the life I had become so comfortable with, I suddenly didn’t want anything. Why did I need the memories of my past few years haunting me as I tried to move forward?

I put all of the memories of my relationship (pictures, the teddy bear he won me at the fair, the dried roses I had from the roses he gave me on our one and two year anniversaries, etc.) into one small box. The rest had to go. The posters that hung over our mantel, the chairs that he had bought me as a surprise, the ugly lounge chair I had since college that he wouldn’t let me get rid of because it was so comfortable, it all needed to be gone.  I had a garage sale and gave away primarily everything else. I trained other people to do the job I had been doing for five years and things slowly began coming together.

 I felt like the balance within myself was being restored.  I loaded my car with clothes, pictures, a few things I couldn’t part with, and of course, my wine. I left a small space for my co-pilot (my ever faithful dog) and after one last day of work, I was off. I cried the first half of the drive, but then a song came on the radio that switched my mood, I honestly don’t even remember which song. As I screamed the lyrics at the top of my lungs and danced as much as I could while safely driving (I’m sure if someone saw me they would have thought I was having a seizure), the tired homemaker slowly gave way to the enthusiasm of the adventurer. I was finally doing what I had always said I would do, just packing up the car and going, just because.

I wasn’t going that far though. These next few months in Sacramento were just a stopover, the spa if you will on my new adventure. This was the time to rebuild confidence, read too many books, learn to eat healthy again, reconnect with my mom and most importantly myself. I showed up to an empty room at my mom’s house. I unloaded my few positions and headed to Ikea on a mission to create the relaxing oasis that I needed. O my goodness, I had forgotten how much I love that store. In the two and a half hours we were there I imagined an apartment for myself back in Paris walking through art museums with delicious coffee in hand, or one in Austin coming home after a run with the puppy by the river, or maybe even choosing a new adventure with a new home, the kind I had never even imagined, in New York, Thailand, or Switzerland. Ikea is where it hit me: I could do anything…anything at all, my possibilities were endless. I knew the next step for myself would be to set some goals.

But no sooner than my relaxing oasis of femininity was complete did I go to bed. For three or four days, I would get up at 5 a.m, go boot camp, come home, eat my healthy morning shake, and back to sleep. I would wake up around noon to eat lunch, put in a load of laundry, and lay down for round two. I would wake up about 45 minutes before my mom got off work. Make dinner, we’d go on an hour walk after dinner and then I’d be ready for bed again.

I have always thanked my lucky stars that I am not someone prone to depression. I have adamantly decided to “choose my attitude” in all facets of my life and that phrase alone has been enough to pull me from any slump I have ever been in. Depression is a serious illness and I can’t imagine not being able to talk myself back into happiness. But this was the first time it wasn’t working. I had never experienced anything close, and to be honest, I got a little worried.

For a week the phone calls and visits had been coming and going and I’d mindlessly been nodding my head. I understood that I was surrounded by loved ones, by people pushing for me, and encouraging me to find myself, to find my spirit, and to do what really makes me happy. But I was paralyzed with fear and sorrow. I wasn’t really ready to accept what they were saying.

Sunday morning I woke up, it had been a week since I had pulled into the driveway of my new home and I had done nothing of consequence with my life. I hadn’t gone on any great adventures and I hadn’t even begun to set and goals for myself. But something felt different that day. Instead of going back to bed I went to the farmer’s market. I got food for the week. I planned out recipes. I made my mom and me a healthy lunch. I spent the afternoon cleaning, and not just my room, but the whole house. I vacuumed and swept and took out the trash. I cleaned up after the dog. I was excited for boot camp the next day, but since we didn’t have it Sunday, I did a few of my own exercises at home. I put together a resume and was ready to send it to whatever small job opportunity arouse (only part time, I don’t want anything to attach me to this area for too long, this is only a spa). I felt better than I had felt in years. I could do push-ups and I had loved ones close by.

That day, everything was different. I woke up feeling free. Freedom to explore me. Freedom to be me. The giant weight I’d been carrying around for 20 years was gone. I didn’t have to choose between sides of me, I don’t have to choose between sides, it’s ok to find a balance, and that is what for the first time, I realized I have to do. My mom took a picture of me that morning at the farmers market and it was one of the few times I have ever seen a true look of relaxation on my face. I will never again put myself into a situation where I have to choose. I have two sides to me and there is nothing wrong with that. I will strive to live a life where I can travel, have adventure, and explore new places, while still maintaining my love of cooking, having pets (and one day children), getting married, DIYing, and having a place to call my own. I used to think I could have both but it had to be at different times in my life, that they couldn’t exist simultaneously. I didn’t think I could adventure and have a home. I didn’t think I could have a relationship that would survive my love of traveling whenever and wherever (mostly wherever). But I am going to. I am determined to be both. Neither is my better side, therefore I will not be choosing, but working to make both sides happy, working to make me happy.

I am sure along the way I will have goals that focus more in one of these directions and that is ok too. I just need to be mindful to find that balance. My next goal is this: I will create goals for myself and as they come I will write them down. I will record them and rewrite them each day until they are complete, whether the goal is “walk the dog everyday” or “move to ______ by ______” or “start a multi-billion dollar company” (highly doubtful, but it’s ok to dream). Whatever they are I will write them, over and over until they become my reality.

But right now, for today, for the first time in a long time, the thing I am most excited to be is me!

-Al

Al: Oh Crap...

That just happened…

Was my first thought.  “That” was the last 2 ½ years of my life.  “That” was the decision I had made for myself. And those were the words I used to do it. 

Before I get ahead of myself, here is a little about me. I am a person with two very different sides. Half of me believes life should be spent living out of a backpack, traveling the world, learning about everything from new cultures to what makes a an airplane fly. I love to read and my thirst for knowledge is never ending. I want to see everything I read about and more. 

The other half of me loves baking pies and cupcakes. Scrapbooking and DIY projects make me feel accomplished. Cleaning the house and fixing meals can be fantastic fun. I enjoy spending a Tuesday night in cooking, drinking wine, and watching the Voice with someone special. Half of me was born an adventurer while the other half was born to be a homemaker. I always knew one day this would cause me problems. I always knew I might have to choose between two sides of myself, but I always hoped I’d be able to find a balance. 

In my head I set deadlines like “I don’t want to be married before 30, that way I will have time to adventures before I have a family,” or “if I haven’t taken a year off and traveled I’m quitting my job at 28 and becoming a citizen of the world.” I was constantly planning to figure everything out later. That brings me to the start of this journey.

I spent the last 2 ½ years in one of the best relationships I could imagine. I met an amazing man. We worked in the same industry, knew the same people, and above all loved each other so deeply sometimes I couldn’t believe I’d found him. We went to every concert we could, laughed until we cried, and spent evenings dancing in our living room singing to each other. Before we dated, we spent months “dancing” around each other at work related functions, but from the minute I finally gave him my number we were one. We went everywhere together, did everything together. I stopped hanging out with my friends. We literally became each other’s whole lives. I had never been in a relationship like this. 

Along the way there were signs that it wouldn’t work, like when he told me he never wanted to leave the area we were living in (the same area he grew up in) or when a weekend to visit my family a few hours away became me “dragging him out of our great town.” But the thing that upset me the most was when he made reference to other girls being too independent for their own good. I was more independent than 80% of women I knew and I came from the most independent woman I knew. Because of this, my relationship with my mom suffered. But still I didn’t listen, I was in love and our love could conquer anything, even complete and total different ideas about the world, life, and most importantly relationships. Over the course of the relationship I completely lost my independent self.

The traveler in me slowly died. She gave way to the homemaker me. I spent my days off baking homemade bread, doing laundry for two, and cleaning the house so my someone special could come home to the perfect home. I never really cared for sweets (other than Belgian chocolates), but I started eating dessert daily, sometimes twice. I stopped exercising, I gained weight, I watched more TV than I care to think about. I started to sneak reading travel blogs and erase my search history before he could see it. He would constantly ask me what I’d been looking at and I’d lie. I didn’t want it to start another round of “what is so wrong with this town.” I became the exact version of a homemaker that terrified me the most. 

All until today, when I decided “that” was enough. Adventurer me was done being dead. She woke up this morning and said “give me my life back.” Our relationship wasn’t bad, it was actually great, even right up until the end we barely fought. We just had different ideas and we each had planned us a different future. His version of a “big” vacation is a two hour drive up the coast; mine is a two month trip to Europe. In fact, he’s an incredible guy and I would set him up with any girl who would love to stay in this area and never leave. 

And then came that hard part…

…2 ½ years of life lived together. I tried as best I could to separate our stuff. I washed and seperated all the laundry and kept going through the day like normal. I was a blubbering sobbing mess of myself. My two halves spent the entire day fighting over whether I had just sent “the one” packing.

The next few days were more of me being a mess. I quit my job and decided to move home. My boss and coworkers were unbelievably supportive and everyone told me I had made the best choice for me. 

The more I talked to friends and family, the more I started to realize everyone in my life thought something was wrong. I started to feel better about my decision.

I still had to pack and get out of a house that we had spent two years in. During the day I would be convinced that I made the right decision. Then I’d come home to “give away” piles and boxes and all I wanted to do was cry. To make matters worse, he hadn’t moved out. He took his tv and left everything else. I stared at his clothes for days, hoping one day I would come home and they just wouldn’t be there anymore. The dog would just stare at his stuff, probably wondering where he was, which just made me feel worse. She was feeding off my anxiety and neither of us was sleeping. It took me three days to eat anything. 

The “garage sale” “give away” “keep” “maybe” and “craig's list” piles kept growing. I had eaten two pints of Ben & Jerry’s and was ready to dig into a third. I was beyond flustered at how to fit 8 years worth of living in one location (I’d been in the same town since I was 18) into my small SUV and still have room for me & the dog. I wasn’t able to focus at work (which considering I was on my way out and trying to get my position ready for someone else, was not good). 

And then it hit me. What do I really need? My mom has a full kitchen, so I don’t need anything from that. Yes, I have a great kitchen and great accessories and cool measuring cups and Mason jar glasses, and shot glasses that I’ve had since I was 18. But really, who needs two sets of measuring cups, my mom has plenty of glasses, there is nothing I can’t get later if I decide I want it. Why do I need my current wall hangings, I don’t want the sheets that were “our” sheets and the picture frames that held “our” pictures. How was I supposed to let go if I took everything with me. Adventurer me had no interest in being bogged down by stuff and homemaker me didn’t want to be reminded of the life she just lost. For the first time in over 2 years I saw clearly, as me, as one me who could make the decision I wanted to make. I did some research. I didn’t want anyone to have to pay for my things. I wanted them to go to someone who would appreciate my cool measuring cups and would put family photos in my pictures frames. I wanted my dresser to go to someone who needed somewhere neat and unique to put their clothes. I wanted my stuff to be filled with life and used by someone who would love it, not packed away in my mom’s garage for 10 years until I was ready to deal with it. So I scheduled an appointment with the local AMVET. 

I will be keeping some things. My mom does not have a bed in her guest room so I will be taking mine. I donated about 1/3 of my clothes, but I will be keeping the rest of them. At my mom’s request (and under heavy protest) I am keeping all of my books, only under the condition that once they get to her house they are hers, I will not move them again. I am keeping some jewelry and donating the rest. I will also keep my makeup and toiletries. I have a tent and some camping things that I will be keeping. I will also be keeping all of my childhood and college mementos including my Christmas decorations. I also have a handful of blankets and comforters that I have stolen from my mom over the years. I will be bringing those back with me. I will take one bin of shoes and get rid of the rest (I probably have close to 45 pairs of shoes at the moment). We’ll see where it goes from here…

-Al