Category: 20-Something

Szechuan Green Beans, or I Know What You Did Last Summer (and Happy Autumn Equinox, too)

Though I’ve neglected to type and publish, I’ve had a busy summer full of a variety of new ventures. I left y’all right before Easter, with this parting thought:

I’m going to beat the ides and get over the seasonal depression and become newly inspired for Philly, and life, and myself.

I totally forgot about this until rereading it, and with the upcoming change of seasons, this was a perfect time to rejoin the blogosphere. Plus I owed Chrystina the recipe to these Szechuan green beans I made for a dinner party, which is honestly the whole reason I got back on here. If I’m going to type it out, I might as well blog it, right? This led to the inevitable “let’s contemplate the meaning of life” and where the past 6 months have brought me. How did I “become newly inspired for Philly, and life, and myself” as I set out to do? Here’s how, in no particular order:

  • I took a part-time job working twice a week at a restaurant/bar on South Street
  • I started running and completed my first 5k
  • My dad visited me for a weekend and we had one of the best conversations and bonding times over a bottle of wine and live jazz. He’s been one of the biggest encouragements to me lately.
  • I learned so much about the food industry that I decided to continue following a mostly vegan lifestyle even after Lent (yes, I’ve cheated with an Ishkabibble’s cheesesteak at 1 a.m.)
  • I came to believe in magic carpets and made my second appearance on a Broadway stage (technically I was on the stage! Shout out to fellow Harrison School for the Arts grad, Yurel, who is in Aladdin and took us backstage!)
  • I traveled to Arizona to meet my niece, Emilia, for the first time; I am well on my way to being “crazy Aunt Carly” and cannot wait to take her to the bar (never mind that I’ll be in my 40s by that time)
  • I presented a break-out session at two conferences
  • I have been planning my 5 year college reunion at Stetson University Homecoming — wait, what? How many years?
  • I took a summer graduate course in Marketing and met a new friend, made strong professional connections, and developed a pretty decent idea for a company that I wish I had time and resources to pursue further
  • I had absolutely no dating/boy drama. No, really! I don’t think…
  • For the first time, I was drunk at the Phillies game. Solid points on my Philadelphian status right there.
  • I got to be home with family and friends in Florida twice in 3 months
  • Along with a committee, I developed curriculum for a college course
  • I joined Monster Milers, a volunteer group that takes shelter dogs for walks/runs
  • After taking on another side job doing work for a digital marketing and advertising company, I became temporarily obsessed with Reese’s peanut butter cups as result of working on a project for Hershey’s
  • I had one of the best weeks and most relaxing times of my life down the shore with cousins

I guess it’d be hard to argue that I didn’t become more involved in life and Philly and myself in mostly positive ways. Now that summer is ending and the autumn solstice ushers in the cooler weather, a grounding, and of course preparing for winter and the holidays and all, I think I can calmly welcome the longer darkness. I always did love fall.

I have no idea how to tie green beans back into this post, except for maybe adding it into my adventures of eating a plant-based diet, reminiscing of my summer of 2012 trip to China, and learning that cooking is a therapy for me. What really makes this dish is a combination — to taste — of my 3 new best kitchen friends:

favorite cooking ingredients

Sriracha, chili garlic, and hoisin

So, here it is, a spicy, warming, delicious rendition of my favorite authentic Chinese dish. I put it together reviewing a variety of online recipes for Szechuan green beans but didn’t really stick to the book on measurements (as per my usual) so these are estimates. I taste as I go. I also use and recommend all organic ingredients when possible.

SZECHUAN GREEN BEANS

Ingredients

Oil (sesame recommended, but I use coconut or olive oil)

1 lb. fresh green beans, rinsed and with ends trimmed

1 tblsp fresh minced garlic

1/2 cup chopped green onions

1/4 cup soy sauce (low sodium variety is recommended)

1 tblsp fresh minced ginger (or powdered)

1 cup chili garlic sauce (or amount to taste)

1 cup hoisin sauce (or amount to taste)

1 cup chopped or halved peanuts

1 tblsp fresh chopped cilantro (or parsley if you prefer)

OPTIONAL: Sriracha

Directions

  1. In an oil-coated pan, fry the garlic and green beans on medium heat until beans are wrinkly
  2. Add soy sauce, onions, and ginger, stir, then simmer for ~5 min.
  3. Add chili garlic, hoisin sauce, and the peanuts and stir until beans are coated; simmer for ~5 min.
  4. Before serving, stir in the chopped cilantro and Sriracha for more heat (Szechuan cuisine is supposed to be spicy!)

Bon appetit! Enjoy the green beans, and enjoy some new things in life, too. ~CkB

Beware the Ides of March: Get a Haircut (Happy Lenten Season)

Historically, March has never been a good month for me. One March I had to move to a new apartment right after a week-long work trip and before I was ready to move again; my heart broke badly another March; crazy things always happen to me sometime during the third month of the year. And I blame it on the death of Caesar.

Indeed March is also the hope for Spring. Mardi Gras, first day of Spring, St.  Patrick’s Day festivities… and the following month, Easter, which has always been the most deeply spiritual and meaningful religious holiday to me as it seems to always come — as described above — at the right time in my life. Accepting pain and death, suffering and absence or loss, and then awakening a Sunday morning with new beginnings, a hope for the rest of time, and a pastel colored basket with fake green plastic grass, cream eggs and jelly beans. God I love cream eggs!

March 1, 2014 arrives. I’ve been in the usual winter blues rut, this one seems impossible to dig out of as every time I start melting away the icy negativity we get another snowstorm to re-freeze over everything. (That was both metaphorical and literal, in case you hadn’t been paying attention to the winter weather up here.) I can’t decide on a life dream or ultimate career goal. I’ve been in a yoga rut and haven’t been able to get myself to practice. I’ve been eating too many pints of Ben & Jerry’s. I try to be conscious of spending to start paying off debt and I get a ticket for putting my trash out incorrectly. I am homesick for my family and living where winter doesn’t even really exist…

So I got a haircut. This, as many women know, is more than just getting split ends cut off and bangs trimmed; the haircut can be a rebirth, an enlightenment, a reformation! Sometimes you have a come-to-Jesus-meeting with your insecurities and inner issues via the stylists’ scissors and oddly colored hair dye mixture and not knowing 100% what’s going to happen when you get spun around to face yourself in the mirror for the “ta da!” moment. My girl Kim at Studio Teknik always takes good care of me and never disappoints — she has become one of those friends you don’t see all the time but can’t wait to get caught up on each others’ life drama. It’s the quintessential salon experience I’ve always wanted! Oh yeah and they give me a glass of wine there.

Before and after (styling and photography by Kimberly Resnick at Studio Teknik http://www.studiotekniksalon.com/)

Before and after (styling and photography by Kimberly Resnick at Studio Teknik http://www.studiotekniksalon.com/)

I said goodbye to blondie and went back to my roots. Well, close enough, anyway. I sat at my neighborhood bar the other night and could just feel the renewed energy I had drawing people in — in ways I hadn’t felt before, or perhaps in a long while. Maybe the Jameson is still cycling through me, but the next morning I woke up with a headache with a positive, sunny outlook, ready and hopeful for Spring and my annual Easter spiritual reconnection. I actually wanted to go to yoga. I think I’m going to commit to a vegan diet that I’ve felt convicted towards. This March go-round, I’m going to beat the ides and get over the seasonal depression and become newly inspired for Philly, and life, and myself. Plus I have my own real life Easter bunny this year, and that sure beats the new underwear my mom put in our baskets one Easter… ~CkB

This Side Up: Moving Advice from a Reluctant Nomad

It’s not uncommon to move a few times in your twenties, but I could win an award for the number of times I’ve changed my address since college. I never planned it that way, but the gypsy lifestyle was apparently more in my cards than I anticipated. This month would have been my last chance to let my current landlady know if I’m not renewing; since I haven’t drafted any written notice, I guess I’m staying. It’s a scary, foreign concept to someone who’s moved five and half times in the past four and a half years (during that half move, my possessions and I were living out of three different locations, and none of them technically mine… except the car, which could have counted as a second storage unit). Why so transitory? From rent being raised to a roommate who moved out of state for love to wanting to be closer to work, I’d like to reiterate that none of these moves were really spurred by an uninfluenced desire to pack, recruit friends, buy a U-Haul, put down 3 months’ rent, live out of boxes for weeks, and finally finish decorating just in time to do it all over again.  To illustrate my point, I give you a visual aid (excludes move from Florida to West Norriton as well as the half move). As points of reference, the orange dotted line indicates (a rough estimate of) the Philadelphia city limits, and the red circle encloses the general Center City area.

movemap

As a practically professional mover, I do have a few pieces of wisdom to consider when you’re planning a move (or moving without having had a plan to, my specialty):

  • You will break at least one item each move. Be prepared for it; it will happen.
  • Pack the bottle opener last, but don’t worry about glasses. It’s more memorable and gets more “likes” on social media if use random objects as toasting goblets. If you do forget where you packed the wine bottle opener and you’re not celebrating with champagne or a twist off, see this video.
  • Throw a housewarming party the weekend after your move. I still can’t decide if this was the smartest or stupidest thing I did, but my last move I threw a housewarming party a couple days after I moved in. It forces you to get organized, get some decorations together, and jump start your new life!
  • You will lose things in moves that you won’t know you’ve lost until, most likely, you see an old photo of said items. But seriously, where did that dress go? Didn’t I have a beaded purse at some point? And how does a heavy glass measuring/mixing cup just walk away? MOVING BOX GNOMES?!
  • If you feel even a small red-flag feeling when dealing with a landlord/management company, don’t ignore it. It means something; listen to it and analyze if it’s going to be worth dealing with when it inevitably rears its fat, ugly head at the least convenient time. This is general life advice, actually.

As a reflective person, I certainly learned lessons, made memories, and grew in each stage of my life under the roof of many a different home. Perhaps I’m not done with the memories, personal development, and laundry frustrations of my current space and I’ll hang out here another year or so. But don’t hold your breath… ~CkB

 

An early Happy Birthday shout out to the best landlady of all time, Mom!

Did I Shave My Legs for This? Or, the (Mis)Adventures of Online Dating

I have a Pre-Date Playlist (of course I do) that I sometimes play as I’m getting ready for first dates. It includes a modest list of classic Shania Twain, the Robin Thicke song, and Ellie Goulding reminding that “Anything Could Happen.” My favorite song on that mix, however, is Deanna Carter’s “Did I Shave My Legs for This?” because that mostly sums up my experiences with online dating. Now her situation is slightly different per the lyrics, but the spirit is the same: why the hell did I spend all this time and effort and concern when you’re just going to show up to a nice dinner in sneakers; or with your armpit hair exposed in a careless white tank top, and a little high on something; or looking like Ray Romano’s East Indian cousin with bad crow’s feet and who isn’t funny, when your profile pictures promised a hot and sexy, youthful-looking exotic stud? All true stories, dearies. I can’t make this shit up…

If you ever wondered what online dating sites offer, here’s been my experience. Online dating consists mostly of men who have any combination of the following:

  • are med students
  • say they have a hard time talking about themselves/writing a profile, but in real life I’ve found they
  • talk too much, including interrupting you to start talking about something else
  • are “laid back” and “easy going”
  • are huge Phillies and Eagles fans
  • like going out but like a night in with a movie and bottle of wine, too
  • want an attractive girl who likes to go out but also looks just as good in pajamas
  • have literally traveled the world by their early 30s, and that’s all they post photos of/brag about
  • want a “partner in crime” (I was SURE I coined that phrase in online dating, but I’ve retired it as it’s become way too cliché now)
  • are “family-oriented” and spoil their niece(s) and/or nephew(s)
  • have the greatest friends and would do anything for them (that’s SO rare, right?!)

I’ve learned a lot about myself through all these different experiences. Mostly what I don’t like. For this, I bring you the following, still true, snippets from the various dating sites/apps I’ve exposed myself to for apparently sole entertainment purposes:

If all your pictures are of you in sunglasses holding varying bottles of alcohol, you’d be a NOPE.

If your first message to me is “are u into bdsm?” you’re not getting a message back.

If your tagline is “WHERE THE SERIOUS LADIES AT,” “um yeah I got nothing,” or “Available…LOL” I’m not available and I’ve definitely got nothing for you, either.

If your username is “CallMeDaddy” “Gettinit” “Mismeasured” “Mutated Monkey” “Hitman” or “MrRight” you’re probably not, in fact, Mr. Right

If you describe your stomach problems in your profile, or use all 1s, 2s, and 4s in place of words, or describe yourself as “yummy” I’m not dying to know more.

If you’re 49, you have no business interrogating ME why I’m single and online dating; if you’re over 60, you shouldn’t even be allowed to like or even view my photos.

If you text me and ask me to send you $30 for last night’s dinner bill share, if I want, I don’t want to. If you text me 5 more times and spell out the math of how I owe you (and you miscalculate how much I paid for), I’m still not texting you back. If you text me 10 more times telling me in detail how horrible of a person I am, I’ll report you to the dating website.

Rules, Advice, & Lessons Learned the Hard Way (so you don’t have to):

  1. Don’t give your phone number before meeting in person.
  2. Always have cash on hand when going on a date.
  3. Give a trusted friend or two or three all the info you have about your date, including where and when you’re going; always have someone “on call.”
  4. Don’t drink tequila on the first date.
  5. Don’t let the person walk you home on a first date; spend the extra money and take a cab.
  6. Stalk your dates. I use “Docket in Your Pocket” app (State of PA only) but you can do a good ole criminal record check online if you have enough patience to figure it out.

Public apologies to all the men I don’t respond to; to Ray Romano, because I love you and think you’re hilarious and would rather date you than your unfortunate doppelganger; the bar Alfa for what happened that one night as result of breaking Rule #4; and to myself for putting myself through all this.

Until I find someone worthy of a better blog post, follow me on Twitter for the occasional live tweeting of date nights. Please tell me someone else has had similar experiences? Or maybe you have a good story to give me hope until my subscription for this stupid site is up? ~CkB

Fake It ’til You Make It, or Thoughts on Going Blonde

Last week I went in for a haircut and I came out a blonde. It wasn’t 100% spontaneous, but it certainly was much less of a percentage planned. I’ve never been blonde in my life — unless you count my childhood dark blonde/light brown “dishwater blonde” as my grandmother called it. And oh how I hated that — dishwater blonde just sounds lovely. Anyway, the reviews have been almost all positive, I’m still not convinced of the exact shade or the new persona. So far as a blonde I’ve rear-ended someone on 676 , sent a drunk text when I was sober, and told people I’m starting vegetarianism but ordered the frittatta with bacon at brunch (I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give up bacon).

What made me do it? The same thing that made me cut my hair short in the first place over a year ago. The same reason we all go do a crazy, somewhat random things. We want to feel something when everything else we feel is tired, numb, disappointed, or in need of spark of inspiration. Despite the blessing of a new job, I’ve been struggling to find inner happiness and contentment with my life and that passion for this city that I once had. I know the only way to get myself where I want to be is to unveil in inherent happiness from within me — not through other people or things; the kind of happiness that cannot be taken away. This time, that was personified in letting my stylist bleach and stain my hair some unnatural hue that will lighten things up and give me a new perspective.

But what do I do now? The color’s not right, but the action was. You’ve heard “fake it ’til you make it” and that’s the wisdom we’re going with for this lesson. I’m going to fake my blonde until I feel like it’s me, I’m going to keep doing things and searching within myself until I’m happy, and I’m going to keep adjusting both those things as needed — without any expectations of their conclusions.

And isn’t that life? Just go for it, figure it out as you go, and if you don’t like, change it until you’re happy. From one of my favorite Coldplay anthems: “I’d rather be a comma than a full stop.” The only point of no return, the only period in our life’s script is death; the rest of the time is just pauses in moments that need us to reflect on what was just scripted. I don’t have to be blonde forever, it’s just an idling in my hair color history as I contemplate what’s below my roots, under my skull, and what messages my brain is sending my heart (and vice versa).

So until I make it, I’m faking blonde, faking happy… but I’m going back to driving like a brunette. Apparently blondes aren’t as attentive on the morning commute, and I can’t afford an insurance claim because I just spent $xxx.xx on getting my hair dyed professionally. ~CkB

 

 

10 Things I Hate about You: Philadelphia Edition

I love Philly, but — like a true Philadelphian — I also love to hate this city. Some of these things make me want to leave. Most of them have taught me how to curse. All of them I could do without. ~CkB

10. Lame excuses of thunderstorms

You can’t even call the storms here thunderstorms because there’s no thunder. There’s nothing like a good heavy rainstorm with a lightening show and some deep thunderous replies. Plus everyone freaks out over any amount of rain or mention of “bad” storm. What do you do with  millions of batteries, gallons of water, and loaves of bread you over-stocked yourselves with?

9. Taxes on graduate tuition remission and AmeriCorps awards

I’m not complaining about getting free tuition through tuition remission from the university I worked at while in grad school, and I’m not complaining about receiving and Education Award after the incredible year of volunteer service I experienced through the AmeriCorps*VISTA program. I just think it’s mean to tax free graduate tuition at 25%, and I just think it’s stupid that the government taxes an award that the government gives to the folks who work for the improvement of society. (Side note, I try not to complain about taxes because we have it pretty damn good here in America.)

EDIT: I guess this is a Federal government thing, not a Philadelphia thing. Whoops. We’ll go with complaining about the city wage tax then. Or geez, how did SEPTA not make this list?

8. That Philly smell

If you’ve been here, you know what I mean.

7. Everybody trying to screw you for their benefit

Maybe not everybody, but from my experience this was specifically William Penn Realty Company, the PPA, and most recently PGW (if they shut off my gas, they’ll have more than an angry blog post coming their way).

6. Spitting

The most disgusting habit that I will never, ever be able to accept. I saw an old lady in red lipstick and a floral dress spit on the sidewalk in Washington Square Park. How is this socially acceptable?!

5. Lack of affordable housing for young professionals

If you’ve noticed, there have been a few new “luxury” apartment buildings going up around Center City. How fabulous! But this city also boasts itself as being one of the top places for recent graduates to live, work, and play. As a recent grad, and even as a recent Master’s graduate, I can’t afford to live in a high rise luxury apartment building. At this point in my life, I don’t REALLY need granite counter tops, stainless steel appliances, a garden tub, or even a roof deck pool (although I can’t say this isn’t what my dreams are made of). How about some clean and simple, reasonably priced apartments for the rest of us? We didn’t all major in Business, Law, and Finance.

4. Parking in traffic lanes

There are many socially acceptable driving habits that aren’t exactly legal but that every Philadelphian driver does. Parking in traffic lanes is NOT one of these. It comes down to being selfish drivers, which is the only way I’ve come up with to describe certain behaviors. Clearly your business is far more important than mine, so please, stop in the middle of an already narrow two lane Center City street. The blocked traffic will understand, and never mind that there is enough room in front of the parked cars to pull over to the curb. (Exceptions: moving and delivery trucks)

3. Winter

Not sure I’m allowed to complain about this since I chose to leave Florida, however, winter lasts way too long up here. It’s June, and last night I was chilly. I get depressed in March over the dead trees still being dead (dormant, really). Global warming, you’re welcomed here!

2. Parking

No comments necessary.

1. The PA Liquor Control Board

We’re in the 21st century. While I respect and appreciate the historical Quaker roots of our Commonwealth, let’s drop the antiquated liquor laws and start selling wine and 6-packs at grocery stores like the rest of America.

I Could Have Died This Morning, or Learning to Like the Hard Times (Happy Early Memorial Day)

This morning was one of those where little things slowed me down and were a bit frustrating. My suitcase fell down my front steps; I forgot something and had to go back around the block back to my apartment for it; a taxi pulled out in front of me; somebody took too long to go at the green light so we missed the light at the next intersection; an SUV sped up to get in front of me. These little annoyances are little indeed, but I still had to find a parking spot at work and it was already 5 minutes ’til my shift started. I was about to get frustrated until I reached the intersection at Market Street, where my light was green. I was following the SUV that sped by me to switch into my lane, and a few seconds before the SUV crossed Market, a red fan flew across, unapologetically running a red light… bad. The van’s light would have been red for a good while since the SUV and I were powering through, and I realized that, if the SUV hadn’t pulled in front of me, and I had driven a tad bit faster (which would be odd since I never ever ever speed… never), or if I hadn’t dropped my suitcase or forgotten something, that could have been me, t-boned in the middle of Market Street, my poor little Camry disabled and possibly totaled, and me left car-less at the very best, lifeless at the worst. (I am happy to report that the SUV was able to safely slow down in time. Fortunately there was no collision; unfortunately there were no police around.)

It’s Memorial Day Weekend, which means a lot more folks on the road and a lot more thought about those who have given their lives so that we have a country we’re free to drive around in. Philadelphia drives need to slow the hell down and stop being so angry and selfish on the road. We all have places to go, we are all a little late, we all have dreams and people who care about us. It’s better to be late than dead, a little slow than not moving at all. Can we please show some brotherly love to our fellow city drivers?

I’ve been working on accepting situations and appreciating the lessons and the growth that occurs in uncomfortable and unhappy times of life. This morning, I finally got it. The little moments that frustrated me, slowed me down, and that I didn’t understand why were happening to me in the moment may have saved my life.

Perhaps that was a little dramatic. I probably would have survived, but my car probably would not have, and I don’t have collision coverage with my insurance so I would have been car-less and condemned to traveling on SEPTA for the rest of my time in this city, which would be like dying, or at least a bumpy, smelly, loud, and at times violent purgatory.

Safe travels this weekend, y’all! ~CkB

Things Inanimate Objects and Random Strangers Would Probably Like to Say to Me

Credit card company: Haha! For years you’ve made free money off our reward program, but you know what? Payback’s a bitch! Here’s that x.x% APR you never bothered paying attention to when you applied for the card. Good luck and thanks for your business. Keep enjoying those dinners out, acupuncture sessions, organic produce, and flights to interviews for jobs you won’t get! Repeat after me, “Just charge it!”

My music player: This song, again? I guess it’s better than ke$ha…

The people on the bus: Where does this chick work? Some days she’s in yoga pants, some days she’s in dresses. Sometimes she wears makeup, sometimes not. Maybe she doesn’t work? What’s with the pirate flag on her Tervis Tumbler mug? WHOA! Red lipstick, ok girl, get it.

My tan lines: Help! We’re fading!

My dishwasher: You spent more time trying to cram that pot and pan in here than it would have taken for you to hand wash them. P.s.- thanks for the eco-friendly dishwashing detergent!

My cell phone: No matter how many times you refresh that page, there’s not going to be anything new. Quit it, you’re draining my energy; then you’ll curse me later when I die and you have to get home via public transit and it’s after dark.

The cute man with beard, glasses, and stylish shoes on the subway: Why do you keep looking at me? I have a ring on, but I’m not ever going to show you my left hand so you can see it because I’m not even paying attention to you actually.

My paycheck: HAVE NO FEAR, PAYCHECK IS HERE!!! Wait… where’d I go, I just got here?!

The barista at the local coffee shop: Seriously, you’re going to make me type in your credit card info, for one cup of tea and a piece of pumpkin bread?  Can’t carry cash like normal people? Oh, and you get a free drink next time! See you tomorrow when you miss your bus, again.

The waiter/waitress at any restaurant I dine at: So, water, no ice, and a lemon? No it’s not purified, it’s tap water, free tap water. Anything else, princess?

My yoga mat: Look how far you’ve come! Keep working on that crow pose, and can we go back to Bikram again please? Namaste.

The bottle of hand sanitizer on my desk: I’m concerned about you. I think we need to talk about your excessive alcohol usage.

Don’t Try to Fix the Broken Zipper, or Mom Was Right (Happy Early Mother’s Day)

Last time I went home to visit my family, my mom took me to the most amazing vintage thrift store I have ever been in. There were all kinds of crazy outfits, memorabilia, accessories, and junk from the 50s, the 70s, and beyond/around. Don’t know why I was so enamored, but I could have spent hours and still not seen it all. I even told my mom that if she had introduced me to this mecca of awesomeness earlier, I would have visited more often. (In hindsight, not the right thing to say to one’s loving mother, but if you haven’t been poppin’ tags in Florida, you don’t know what you’re missing.)

I fell in love with a circa mid-1960s sailor dress — Mom said she wore a similar dress around that time. And when I say in love, I mean truly, madly, deeply.

Image

I was prepared to pay the $30 (despite the lack of $30 in my bank account) until I tried to zip it up. My heart sank. Broken! I modeled for my mother anyway, and myself, for probably close to 10 minutes. It was so cute, hipster, authentic, I like the stripes and the colors and the pockets. I tried to ignore the busted zipper, but dear mommy wouldn’t let me get it. “It’s not worth it,” she said. But I could get the zipper replaced! I could get velcro! Or something!?

Broken things aren’t worth it in our lives. Particularly with love, but it could be an ill-fitting job, a toxic friendship, any specific unhealthy situation that has it’s deceptively heavenly moments. How many times do we tell ourselves we can fix it/him/her, change it/him/her, or make it all work somehow? If we have the blessing of an option (and not all people have that luxury), why do we choose the not best option? We’ll spend $30 on a dress we think we love and have to have and can make work. We ignore the blatant imperfections because we’re blinded by desire and only picture an idea– the potential– which is not reality. For better or worse, we live in reality, though. We must trust that greater things are in store for us… if we can just put down the dress with the zipper that doesn’t do what it promises us it will do. (Is it me, or does it sound like I’m referencing my last heartbreak here? Right, just checking.)

I left the dress at that divine shop of oddities and treasures. I thought about it all day. I thought about it my whole trip. I clearly still think about it while scanning my albums on social media. But (go figure) momma was right. It wasn’t worth it. And I’m trying to take that lesson with me into the deeper contexts of love and life, and am slowly (s l o w l y) catching on to what it means to delay gratification of accepting an imperfect X so that the universe/God can provide the perfect Y at the perfect moment. Though since we as humans are incapable of perfection, it never appears perfect to us. But we must keep trusting, hoping, and maybe taking chances to keep learning the lesson.

No, the universe has yet to bestow upon me a fully functional 1960s sailor dress to wear to some non-existent but certainly upcoming summertime soiree, but the next trip down to the land of sunshine that I take to “visit my folks,” you’ll know where to find me. Until then, what broken zippers can you put back on the rack? ~CkB

Things NOT to Do to Support Your Frustrated, Under-Employed, Job-Searching, Recently Graduated Twenty-Something

I’m a recent master’s graduate living in Philadelphia. Although I have a job, it doesn’t pay my bills and is not reflective of the level of education I just spent time and money attaining. Although I’ve only had my degree for 4 months, I’ve been applying to jobs for over a year now. I’ve used my involvement and connections and as result I’ve had several interviews, but they hire the candidate with more experience. I am told I interview well and would be a good fit and have a lot to offer, though. So what am I doing wrong?

As my therapist reminds me every session, NOTHING. I’m not doing anything wrong. Most of us are not doing anything wrong. Our parents, older family members, and sometimes even acquaintances do not understand our generation’s challenge of expanded opportunities but limited job market, our millennial upbringing of being groomed to think we’re special and have bright futures but hitting the wall of over-educated and under-experienced. So these well-meaning family members offer unsolicited advice and uninspiring “shoulds” and “to dos.” Recently I received an email like this, and it did not encourage, support, inspire, or help me in the least. It frustrated me; it made me forget everything my therapist and I had worked on; it made me want to yell and cry and scream like a two year old. But I’m twenty-something, not two, so I blogged instead of temper tantrum-ed.

Things NOT to do to support your frustrated, under-employed, job-searching, recently graduated twenty-something:

  • Don’t send us job postings from job sites.

We have these bookmarked on our computer AND smart phone browsers. We check them daily. Sometimes hourly. I get emails when new jobs are posted that match my interests/qualifications. If you found the job site, it’s likely it’s a common one we know about. If we’re interested/qualified, we’ve applied. If not, we haven’t. Sending us jobs from sites we already frequent is frustrating for us, and then we feel bad that you’re wasting your time trying to help (and our emotional energy is already spent on keeping ourselves sane, so we’ll have less patience to be able to say Thank You! instead of… something else).

  •  Don’t tell us what we need/should be doing to “make it.”

We’ve networked. We’ve interviewed. We’ve followed up. We’ve looked beyond our comfort zone. We know what we need to do. And if we don’t, we know who to go to – our mentors, our trusted older professionals and supervisors, our connections on Linked-In who have third degree connections with somebody who knows someone in the office where we hope to work, and our successful peers we secretly hate for leaving us behind in the underemployed land they used to play with us in.

  • Don’t ask us if we want you to review our resumes.

Again, thanks, but no thank you. We’ve got this on lock down, too. We’ve written our resumes, and rewritten them, and continue to improve them every job we apply to. If you are a well-established professional in our field, chances are we’ve already had you look over our resume. Additionally, most university graduates had to create and work on a resume during their college career. By the time I’ve graduated with my Master’s, my resume has gone through many hands, and if something was blatantly discounting my chances at getting interviews, I would have known by now.

So how can you help? Your intentions are pure. Your thought is appreciated. It just doesn’t actually come out that way through the above mentioned ways. You’ve given us a lot of tough love growing up, but right now, I’m afraid I have to tough love you back. Instead of offering us job search 101 advice, try these tactics. They’ll get your same underlying message of support across without causing more guilt, anger, and hopelessness on our end.

  • Do offer to connect us to people you know well in the field.

Connections are how we get interviews. It’s the “who you ya know” thing. If you have a strong acquaintance or former colleague in the department/organization/company where we seek employment, let us know.

  • Be mindful of our finances, without making it obvious.

I know I’m asking a lot in this post, but this one can be super-sensitive depending on individuals’ comfort level with discussing money matters. Despite our tweets, Facebook posts, and Instagram shots that make it look like we’re having the times of lives living up our fabulous, fashionable lives gallivanting around in the city, we’re not (at least not as extravagantly as we try to portray). It’s likely we’re job searching for a position that can support us beyond our studio apartment with no cable tv and stealing internet from the neighbor who doesn’t put a password on the wifi. We owe our credit card companies for that drink we bought our friend on her birthday, and for the pair of shoes we had to get because you can’t wear flip flops after October above the Mason Dixon line. My parents have been incredible in helping finance my life during graduate school and, now, the post-grad job search  – they’ve paid for my flights home for the holidays and come up to visit me once a year and treat me to groceries and nice dinners out. If you can offer that, we’ll take you up on it. For holidays that include gift exchanges, suggest modifying that tradition. For birthdays or other days where you normally buy gifts, send us gift cards – it’s not impersonal, it’s not lazy, it’s vital to our survival. Gift cards for a local grocery store, Target (stay tuned for a blog post about this place), etc. are not only acceptable to us, they’re heaven-sent. We’ll let out a huge sigh and hug the envelope close.

  • Ask us about the rest of our life stuff and things you know we enjoy.

Job searching can breed incredible amounts of stress. Talking about the job search can be just as exhausting. Ask us about our friends, our apartment, our new favorite yoga pose, our other hobbies and things that we do for fun, or that guy that we met last month (on second thought, maybe you shouldn’t ask us about our love lives, either). Help us focus on the positive things in our lives by directing our conversations toward things besides the job market. We’ll welcome the break from thinking too much about our future.

Maybe those are just rules for me. But I feel better now, and that’s the secret reason we start blogging anyway, right? Twenty-somethings, how do you survive the job search process? Did I miss anything? Good luck and stay positive. We won’t be sitting here reading blogs about job searching forever.  ~CkB