Day two on the job:
Conquered the electric hole punch (plugged it in).
Tried to make coffee with the Keurig machine but instead ended up with a cup of hot milk.
Took 20 minutes to turn on my computer, then asked for help just to find I needed to push the power button.
The irony of the fact that I work in IT does not escape me.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Monday, May 23, 2011
Psych
Welp, guess the rapture didn't happen. Not because I'm still here, but because my grandmother's still here. And if she didn't make it, the rest of us are doomed.
Though it seems contradictory, I love my home church. A large part of why, is because of our pastor, Dee Shelnutt. Yesterday he addressed briefly how dumb predicting the rapture makes Christians look, and how the word "rapture" is no where in the scripture. He then urged the congregation to be more Bible literate.
We're in love.
One of the associate pastors stood up to give the "celebrations and concerns" and, with a straight face, said to us, "I'm going to be honest, I'm not completely prepared because I didn't expect to still be here today. However, I will continue from the detailed notes that I had left for Dee."
The choir loft was in tears, laughing so hard.
Another good line from all the rapture jokes: "So what if the rapture didn't happen? It's not the end of the world."
Though it seems contradictory, I love my home church. A large part of why, is because of our pastor, Dee Shelnutt. Yesterday he addressed briefly how dumb predicting the rapture makes Christians look, and how the word "rapture" is no where in the scripture. He then urged the congregation to be more Bible literate.
We're in love.
One of the associate pastors stood up to give the "celebrations and concerns" and, with a straight face, said to us, "I'm going to be honest, I'm not completely prepared because I didn't expect to still be here today. However, I will continue from the detailed notes that I had left for Dee."
The choir loft was in tears, laughing so hard.
Another good line from all the rapture jokes: "So what if the rapture didn't happen? It's not the end of the world."
Friday, May 20, 2011
Farewell, sinners
In the event that the rapture actually happens tomorrow, I would like to go on the record saying that I did, indeed, graduate from college.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Charming Prince Charming
First semester of my sophomore year I had a total school-girl crush on a boy in my anthropology class. He would make witty little jokes under his breath and doodle during class. I never once had a conversation with him.
His name was John. Or Joe. Or Josh. I simply called him Anthropology John.
I talked way too frequently about him to my friends and painted him as the perfect, All-American boy. He was more of a fantasy character than an actual friend to me. Or even acquaintance.
I hadn't seen him since that class, but imagined running into him in a Disney-inspired moment of passion-filled eye-locking.
Today, the day of my last day ever at UGA, I went to do a pre-employment drug screening. And there, between the redneck with the Ford belt buckle and the man carrying newborn twins, was Anthropology John.
I swear he glowed.
He looked about two and a half years older than I remember (read: oh-so mature and manly) and I'm sure he recognized me by my good looks and girlish guile.
At one point, I considered actually talking to him, but decided I liked the Anthropology John in my mind better than whoever he probably is. Sorry, AJ.
His name was John. Or Joe. Or Josh. I simply called him Anthropology John.
I talked way too frequently about him to my friends and painted him as the perfect, All-American boy. He was more of a fantasy character than an actual friend to me. Or even acquaintance.
I hadn't seen him since that class, but imagined running into him in a Disney-inspired moment of passion-filled eye-locking.
Today, the day of my last day ever at UGA, I went to do a pre-employment drug screening. And there, between the redneck with the Ford belt buckle and the man carrying newborn twins, was Anthropology John.
I swear he glowed.
He looked about two and a half years older than I remember (read: oh-so mature and manly) and I'm sure he recognized me by my good looks and girlish guile.
At one point, I considered actually talking to him, but decided I liked the Anthropology John in my mind better than whoever he probably is. Sorry, AJ.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
An ode to maternity
On this happy mother's day, I have given away the closest thing I have to a child.
A few months ago a cat started hanging around our back porch. I don't like cats. But I like this cat.
Sitting on the porch with one of my roommates, the cat just jumped up on my lap and made itself at home. It was soft and sweet and not evil or dirty.
After a week or so I decided to feed it. And, a huge shock to all, it has stuck around. So I've kept feeding it.
Eventually I got so attached to the cat that it made me sad to think about leaving it without finding a home. Luckily, my favorite professor/life coach in the world, Wanda Wilcox, loves cats.
I convinced her to take my cat, and today she came to pick her up.
Though I'm sad to say goodbye, Wanda is going to be the best mom in the world to my wonderful cat. Mothers come in all shapes and sizes and species, so this is an ode to motherhood.
For starters, this is the cat that has stolen my heart:
These are some mother/child combinations from abroad:
And of course, here is my wonderful mother. I cannot say enough nice things about this woman, but the older I get the more I appreciate her as a person and as a mother. I couldn't have gotten any luckier.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom!
A few months ago a cat started hanging around our back porch. I don't like cats. But I like this cat.
Sitting on the porch with one of my roommates, the cat just jumped up on my lap and made itself at home. It was soft and sweet and not evil or dirty.
After a week or so I decided to feed it. And, a huge shock to all, it has stuck around. So I've kept feeding it.
Eventually I got so attached to the cat that it made me sad to think about leaving it without finding a home. Luckily, my favorite professor/life coach in the world, Wanda Wilcox, loves cats.
I convinced her to take my cat, and today she came to pick her up.
Though I'm sad to say goodbye, Wanda is going to be the best mom in the world to my wonderful cat. Mothers come in all shapes and sizes and species, so this is an ode to motherhood.
For starters, this is the cat that has stolen my heart:
These are some mother/child combinations from abroad:
And of course, here is my wonderful mother. I cannot say enough nice things about this woman, but the older I get the more I appreciate her as a person and as a mother. I couldn't have gotten any luckier.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom!
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Changing tires and gender roles
Today I was driving to the bank and called up my dear friend Elizabeth to talk.
A few minutes into our conversation she determined that she had a flat tire. Naturally I asked where she was, since we were headed to about the same place, and I told her I was half a mile away and we could handle it.
As I pulled into the parking spot behind her, it was pretty evident that the tire was, in fact, flat. Now Bob likes cars and while I can't fix a transmission or replace a headlight, I've been known to jump cars and fill up my own windshield wiper fluid (extremely impressive and difficult, I know.) Point being, I've not exactly well versed, but I've been around cars a decent amount.
So I tell Elizabeth to get the jack out of the back of the car, I lay down on the pavement and start to jack it up. Naturally, the little photojournalist herself decided she needed to document my efforts.
A bit later a man and his college-aged son pull up next to us and ask if we need help. We say we're alright but they insist and proceed to take over.
Now as a disclaimer, they were both very nice and helpful.
But when they referred to us as "damsels in distress" I about choked, and had to place my hand over my mouth to keep any unkind words from escaping. We were not in distress, and anyone you ask will tell you I am far from a damsel.
At one point the older man said, "You know what's really phenomenal? You managed to get the jack in the right place!"
Blank stare.
So while they were helpful and kind, this brought about an issue that I've been discussing with my friends and family for the past few weeks: gender discrimination.
I have said in conversations over the past weeks that I have never felt hindered by my gender. My parents always told me I could be whatever I wanted to be, whether that was a dog or the president. I could do it. My mom never made us learn to cook because she didn't want us to think that we had to learn because we were girls. We were never interested, so we didn't learn.
My sisters are an attorney and an accountant/professor. And it never crossed my mind that, being women, they shouldn't be in those positions.
After thinking about it, a couple moments of gender discrimination in my life came to mind.
The summer after my junior year of high school I went to a mission trip to Gulfport, Miss. One day, while working with three other boys to drywall a house that had been damaged during Katrina, I experienced an instance of discrimination.
One of the twenty-something volunteers in our group held one end of a 12-foot piece of drywall, and I held the other. We walked it across the living room, but before putting it down on the ground to then drill it in place, the floor needed to be cleared. Two other boys were standing in the room with us, waiting for us to put down the piece to drill. Basically, they were doing nothing.
The guy on the other end of the drywall looked at me and said, "This needs to be cleared- grab the broom and sweep it up."
I was doing the same job he was. I was holding half the weight of the drywall. The other two boys were doing NOTHING. And I was supposed to do the sweeping?
I opened my mouth and took a deep breath, but before I could say what was really on my mind, one of the other two boys read my mind and said, "I'VE GOT IT!" The culprit had previously shown his chauvinistic self so I knew I wasn't reading into anything, and the other two boys agreed later.
And story number two (or three, but who's counting): The other day the girls in the house next to ours needed jumper cables. One of their boyfriends knocked on my door to see if I had any. I did, and I offered them to him. As I handed them to him I said, "Do you know how to use them?" Which was met with a look of disgust and a "Uhhh....yea." How was I supposed to know? Tons of people don't know how to jump a car.
According to Law.com, in 2005, women accounted for 30% of all lawyers and 32% of all physicians and surgeons. And the numbers are on the rise.
The term "feminist" has a lot of negative connotation to it, but in the sense that we should be exactly equal to men, I recognize with the term.
This is when men like to say, "Then don't expect me to hold the door for you or pay for your dinner." That's fine. For dates: whoever asks, pays. And I open doors for people multiple times a day. Not because of my genitalia, but because it's respectful. I don't need a kiss on the cheek, I'll shake your hand. I don't need someone to lay their coat down over a puddle for me. Lord knows I'm not wearing expensive shoes that I'm afraid to get wet.
In a week and a half I'll have two degrees "handed" to me. Every night studying, every test taken, every article written- I did it. I had men in my classes, and I had women in my classes. Same classes, same tests, same articles. If some day I'm paid less than the man next to me doing the exact same job I will have some choice words to say.
I understand maternity leave adds in another factor, but I wonder how many men could give birth, much less bear responsible, productive citizens of society. Early on, women were made out to be useful for reproductive purposes, and not much else. With the rise of women's education and liberation, I wonder how long it will be til men are reduced to being useful for only manual labor and opening pickle jars.
A few minutes into our conversation she determined that she had a flat tire. Naturally I asked where she was, since we were headed to about the same place, and I told her I was half a mile away and we could handle it.
As I pulled into the parking spot behind her, it was pretty evident that the tire was, in fact, flat. Now Bob likes cars and while I can't fix a transmission or replace a headlight, I've been known to jump cars and fill up my own windshield wiper fluid (extremely impressive and difficult, I know.) Point being, I've not exactly well versed, but I've been around cars a decent amount.
So I tell Elizabeth to get the jack out of the back of the car, I lay down on the pavement and start to jack it up. Naturally, the little photojournalist herself decided she needed to document my efforts.
A bit later a man and his college-aged son pull up next to us and ask if we need help. We say we're alright but they insist and proceed to take over.
Now as a disclaimer, they were both very nice and helpful.
But when they referred to us as "damsels in distress" I about choked, and had to place my hand over my mouth to keep any unkind words from escaping. We were not in distress, and anyone you ask will tell you I am far from a damsel.
At one point the older man said, "You know what's really phenomenal? You managed to get the jack in the right place!"
Blank stare.
So while they were helpful and kind, this brought about an issue that I've been discussing with my friends and family for the past few weeks: gender discrimination.
I have said in conversations over the past weeks that I have never felt hindered by my gender. My parents always told me I could be whatever I wanted to be, whether that was a dog or the president. I could do it. My mom never made us learn to cook because she didn't want us to think that we had to learn because we were girls. We were never interested, so we didn't learn.
My sisters are an attorney and an accountant/professor. And it never crossed my mind that, being women, they shouldn't be in those positions.
After thinking about it, a couple moments of gender discrimination in my life came to mind.
The summer after my junior year of high school I went to a mission trip to Gulfport, Miss. One day, while working with three other boys to drywall a house that had been damaged during Katrina, I experienced an instance of discrimination.
One of the twenty-something volunteers in our group held one end of a 12-foot piece of drywall, and I held the other. We walked it across the living room, but before putting it down on the ground to then drill it in place, the floor needed to be cleared. Two other boys were standing in the room with us, waiting for us to put down the piece to drill. Basically, they were doing nothing.
The guy on the other end of the drywall looked at me and said, "This needs to be cleared- grab the broom and sweep it up."
I was doing the same job he was. I was holding half the weight of the drywall. The other two boys were doing NOTHING. And I was supposed to do the sweeping?
I opened my mouth and took a deep breath, but before I could say what was really on my mind, one of the other two boys read my mind and said, "I'VE GOT IT!" The culprit had previously shown his chauvinistic self so I knew I wasn't reading into anything, and the other two boys agreed later.
And story number two (or three, but who's counting): The other day the girls in the house next to ours needed jumper cables. One of their boyfriends knocked on my door to see if I had any. I did, and I offered them to him. As I handed them to him I said, "Do you know how to use them?" Which was met with a look of disgust and a "Uhhh....yea." How was I supposed to know? Tons of people don't know how to jump a car.
According to Law.com, in 2005, women accounted for 30% of all lawyers and 32% of all physicians and surgeons. And the numbers are on the rise.
The term "feminist" has a lot of negative connotation to it, but in the sense that we should be exactly equal to men, I recognize with the term.
This is when men like to say, "Then don't expect me to hold the door for you or pay for your dinner." That's fine. For dates: whoever asks, pays. And I open doors for people multiple times a day. Not because of my genitalia, but because it's respectful. I don't need a kiss on the cheek, I'll shake your hand. I don't need someone to lay their coat down over a puddle for me. Lord knows I'm not wearing expensive shoes that I'm afraid to get wet.
In a week and a half I'll have two degrees "handed" to me. Every night studying, every test taken, every article written- I did it. I had men in my classes, and I had women in my classes. Same classes, same tests, same articles. If some day I'm paid less than the man next to me doing the exact same job I will have some choice words to say.
I understand maternity leave adds in another factor, but I wonder how many men could give birth, much less bear responsible, productive citizens of society. Early on, women were made out to be useful for reproductive purposes, and not much else. With the rise of women's education and liberation, I wonder how long it will be til men are reduced to being useful for only manual labor and opening pickle jars.
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