So I work with a bunch of Israelis. In the flesh, and as a stereotype, they are just as blunt as that opening sentence. In the office they out-number the Americans by a ratio of four to one, and in sheer vocal volume, the ratio is indeterminate but very significant. They are fiercely patriotic, persistently argumentative, and passionate about everything. Many attribute the patriotism to the fact that almost all citizens serve in the army - two years for women and three for men. Perhaps, as per my conversation with an Israeli coworker of mine, some of it can be attributed to their love and attachment to the land itself. She also suggested that we Americans, as a stereotype, haven't seen much of our country. To her, this was nothing short of unpatriotic, as most Israelis have traveled the length of their country and beyond. To be fair to us, it's easier to travel to the nether regions of one's homeland when it's only the size of New Jersey. But just how much of this great, sprawling map have we experienced? In an effort to tally how many states I have visited, I give to you the Great States Challenge. Here are the rules in case you want to try this at home; they're not too complicated.
Rule One: One must have spent at least one full day in a given state for it to count, and the extent of the travel is self-discretionary.
Rule Two: One has to have been old enough to remember the visit for it to count.
Rule Three: One must make an effort to visit all remaining states, as fruitless as it may seem. There has to be something good in South Dakota.
In no particular order:
Georgia: I lived there for most of my life to date, and also visited the lovely coastal city of Savannah, and the northern Blue Ridge Mountains.
Alabama: Family vacation to the U.S. Space and Rocket Center in Huntsville. Visited friends in Tuscaloosa at the University of Alabama. Beach vacation in Gulf Shores.
Mississippi: Football games at Ole Miss, also a band trip in high school to the University of Southern Miss.
Louisiana: Multi-day bowl trip to New Orleans for the Sugar Bowl. Bourbon Street. New Years. Go there.
Florida: Where haven't I been here? Disney vacation. Beach towns of Destin, St. Augustine, Ft. Lauderdale, Seaside. Football in Gainesville - the world's largest outdoor cocktail party. I will probably retire here.
South Carolina: Hilton Head, every summer. Football games in Columbia.
North Carolina: I bought my flute here in Raleigh. This one might not count.
Tennessee: Nashville, the best city in the South. My best friend lives here, and I visit often. I've also been to Gatlinburg, which is good to see once but never again.
Massachusetts: Visited my aunt, uncle, and cousins in Boston when searching for colleges.
New York: Born here, been back to visit the Big Apple.
Illinois: I live here now.
Wisconsin: July 4, 2011 to visit best friend's family in Whitefish Bay.
Virginia: Trekked all over in my junior year in high school - UVA, Vtech, University of Richmond (the spiders!)
West Virginia: Family vacation with Class VI rapids - a week on the New River!
Indiana: Spent some time at Indiana University.
Michigan: Visited family in Detroit - my grandfather used to own a butcher shop on 8 Mile Road!
Ohio: I used to spend the summers in Cleveland.
Pennsylvania: My grandparents used to live in the Pocono Mountains - Grandpa taught me how to fish here.
Kentucky - Been for football games. Somebody is going to have to sales pitch me this state before I find a reason to go back.
Colorado: Summer backpack and rockclimbing in Rocky Mountain National Park.
Utah: Arches National Park, skiing in Park City.
Arizona: Family vacation in Phoenix, Tuscon, Sedona, Grand Canyon!
California: San Fran, Disney Land, Wine Country.
Are we counting D.C.? Family vacation to Washington D.C. SO MANY MUSEUMS.
23 States and one Capital! Holy cow I have so many to go, and I think I'll be starting with Hawaii after this Chicago winter. Take the challenge, post the results below, and send me your suggestions!
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
I Would Like to Quit on Valentine's Day
Today I had one of those days at work that I'm sure we've all had. Something bad happens. Someone gets mad and yells. You get blamed for things that you're positive are not your fault (I sent you those emails last week Flurger&*# Blug&#*$ and I know you didn't get them because you never read my emails and maybe if you were clear with your expectations in the first place we wouldn't be having this fight that is also not my fault). Deep Breaths. Then you go into your office and plan your excellent revenge that will never happen (note, I am literally slamming the keys on my computer). I will look for a new job where they really appreciate me, you think. Somewhere my work is valued and I don't have to jump through hoops to get paid and I will be so smiley all the time and people will love me for me. I will love going to work everyday and I will never want to leave, and then sometime when I am wildly successful I will schmulzily waltz into my old work - oh hey boss, what's your name again?- and they will miss me like how much I missed cinnamon buns on my no- carb diet. Then you complain to your coworkers, they make you feel better, and you realize that this will never happen and you become a little sad.
(I feel bad for complaining about work, because I know how hard it is to find a job these days. I assure you, I worked hard to get one, and the road was not easy. I will probably look back on this post and be embarrassed, but that's the point of writing it, because a part of me is really pissed right now.)
I spent a lot of time plotting said revenge at work today, and just fuming around my office in general. And then I started wondering if I could have done something to prevent this? Am I really an unpleasant person at work? Was I a big disappointment after that kickass interview a few months ago when I was my best self? Let me walk you through that day. I left my apartment two hours before the interview, and my suit was freshly dry cleaned. I had printed off the job requirements and rehearsed my responses to said requirements. I felt good. I took the red line, and smiled the whole time (if you've ever ridden the red line, you know how much of a challenge this is. One time, a guy pissed on himself, and the urine started running down the length of the train on floor. Even this would not have squished my uber-enthusiastic job-catching aura on this interview day). I stopped at a 7-eleven and tried to buy a lint roller. Finding none, I borrowed their scotch tape and taped myself clean of cat hair. I got to the office early, and chewed some gum, and can I just say I nailed it? I walked away and wanted to call Bill Gates and pitch him some ideas, just because! I could've nailed that too!
Scan to present day where I seem unhappy, ungrateful, tired, and on the defensive. WHAT HAPPENED?
Really, I know it's going to be ok. I came home, played with my cat for thirty minutes (she's amazing and if you hate cats, she can convert you) and had some chocolate. Bad days happen. But really what I'm wondering from all of this is how many of us out there in the working world are truly our best selves at work? Our best personal selves, complimenting those who deserve it and letting things slide, giving others the benefit of the doubt. Our best work selves, efficiently going through emails and responding immediately, avoiding facebook and pinterest. And does this have a direct relationship with how happy we are at the office?
(I feel bad for complaining about work, because I know how hard it is to find a job these days. I assure you, I worked hard to get one, and the road was not easy. I will probably look back on this post and be embarrassed, but that's the point of writing it, because a part of me is really pissed right now.)
I spent a lot of time plotting said revenge at work today, and just fuming around my office in general. And then I started wondering if I could have done something to prevent this? Am I really an unpleasant person at work? Was I a big disappointment after that kickass interview a few months ago when I was my best self? Let me walk you through that day. I left my apartment two hours before the interview, and my suit was freshly dry cleaned. I had printed off the job requirements and rehearsed my responses to said requirements. I felt good. I took the red line, and smiled the whole time (if you've ever ridden the red line, you know how much of a challenge this is. One time, a guy pissed on himself, and the urine started running down the length of the train on floor. Even this would not have squished my uber-enthusiastic job-catching aura on this interview day). I stopped at a 7-eleven and tried to buy a lint roller. Finding none, I borrowed their scotch tape and taped myself clean of cat hair. I got to the office early, and chewed some gum, and can I just say I nailed it? I walked away and wanted to call Bill Gates and pitch him some ideas, just because! I could've nailed that too!
Scan to present day where I seem unhappy, ungrateful, tired, and on the defensive. WHAT HAPPENED?
Really, I know it's going to be ok. I came home, played with my cat for thirty minutes (she's amazing and if you hate cats, she can convert you) and had some chocolate. Bad days happen. But really what I'm wondering from all of this is how many of us out there in the working world are truly our best selves at work? Our best personal selves, complimenting those who deserve it and letting things slide, giving others the benefit of the doubt. Our best work selves, efficiently going through emails and responding immediately, avoiding facebook and pinterest. And does this have a direct relationship with how happy we are at the office?
Sunday, February 5, 2012
The First Installment of Things I Miss About the South
I wouldn't necessarily call myself a southerner, and I wouldn't say I'm a yankee either. I'm the type of hybrid that results from two Midwesterners procreating, moving to New York to have children, and then relocating to Atlanta after one too many winters. I don't speak with an accent; my vowels are not abused (Heeeey huuuneeey!) , nor are my "r's" missing (New Yoak), but I have picked up isms here and there. Most notably, I use the word "y'all." It's just efficient - replace "you guys" for "y'all" for a week and you'll see what I mean.
Now, Atlanta is not as deep-fried as some places below the Mason-Dixon, but I loved growing up there because it was a nice mix of that southern charm and the city life that so many northerners love. And at this moment, prime among my list of southern charms taken for granted, is simply space.
Chicago is great for so many things, and I am certainly not city-bashing, but privacy is at a premium. In fact, as I sit in my living room typing, I can look out the windows facing the street and see directly into my neighbors tv- room window across the road. They have a couple kids, and they go to bed early. One time I saw them having a private Zumba class in their backyard, and I'm sure this is more than they care for me to know. I can hear the 81 bus and the metra as they exhale. If it's a quiet night, I can probably tell you how many people get off. As most metropolitans know, the city never sleeps, and while I don't necessarily feel like someone is watching me, I never feel quite alone either. Don't get me wrong, as this can be nice. But from time to time, it would be nice to take my shoes off before I get home. When I taught in Georgia, I used to get in my car after school, lock the doors, put my hair up, take the shoes off, and play Michael Jackson as loud as my little Honda speakers could bare. Chances were, nobody would pay me much attention on the road. Nowadays, I have to be civilized until my train graciously lets me go.
There are places you can go, in Georgia and elsewhere, where the night cicadas are louder than the cars. Where space is not a luxury and you can drive or bike for miles on open road. Where gardens are overgrown and ivy controls the landscape. People own riding lawnmowers down there for a purpose. I guess I miss feeling like a piece of land is mine to occupy and mine to explore. A place where I can breathe my own air and let it go, confident in it's originality.
To make matters worse, the new tenant in the garden apartment smokes a pack a day, and her musky, second-hand cancer smells waft up two flights of stairs and remind me that I am very much not alone.
When it snows and nature cleans things up a bit, I get a glimpse of that unspoiled landscape that I very much miss. So I hope for more snow.
Now, Atlanta is not as deep-fried as some places below the Mason-Dixon, but I loved growing up there because it was a nice mix of that southern charm and the city life that so many northerners love. And at this moment, prime among my list of southern charms taken for granted, is simply space.
Chicago is great for so many things, and I am certainly not city-bashing, but privacy is at a premium. In fact, as I sit in my living room typing, I can look out the windows facing the street and see directly into my neighbors tv- room window across the road. They have a couple kids, and they go to bed early. One time I saw them having a private Zumba class in their backyard, and I'm sure this is more than they care for me to know. I can hear the 81 bus and the metra as they exhale. If it's a quiet night, I can probably tell you how many people get off. As most metropolitans know, the city never sleeps, and while I don't necessarily feel like someone is watching me, I never feel quite alone either. Don't get me wrong, as this can be nice. But from time to time, it would be nice to take my shoes off before I get home. When I taught in Georgia, I used to get in my car after school, lock the doors, put my hair up, take the shoes off, and play Michael Jackson as loud as my little Honda speakers could bare. Chances were, nobody would pay me much attention on the road. Nowadays, I have to be civilized until my train graciously lets me go.
There are places you can go, in Georgia and elsewhere, where the night cicadas are louder than the cars. Where space is not a luxury and you can drive or bike for miles on open road. Where gardens are overgrown and ivy controls the landscape. People own riding lawnmowers down there for a purpose. I guess I miss feeling like a piece of land is mine to occupy and mine to explore. A place where I can breathe my own air and let it go, confident in it's originality.
To make matters worse, the new tenant in the garden apartment smokes a pack a day, and her musky, second-hand cancer smells waft up two flights of stairs and remind me that I am very much not alone.
When it snows and nature cleans things up a bit, I get a glimpse of that unspoiled landscape that I very much miss. So I hope for more snow.
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