Oh The Love Bug

                 I must say, oftentimes it’s just good to be alive. The 20-somethings are at a time in life when things are definitely looking up – careers, homes, and families. Families. That’s a big one for a lot of us, or I should say, more pointedly, relationships are a big one for a lot of us. I haven’t previously written on relationships because I tend to share the philosophy that relationships are a somewhat sacred thing and do not deserve to be trivialized into the daily gossipings over happy-hour wine. Regardless, many of you have been begging for a spiel on the goings-on of 20-something unions.

                Like anything you’ve read of mine, you know I’m very big on the timelines and motifs of life. This is no different with relationships. We spend much of our pre-teen years chasing members of the opposite sex all while pretending boys and girls have cooties. In high school, we punch the boys we like and are rude to the girls we want to score a makeout sesh with at Friday’s big game. In our adult years, we really start playing the game, reading books like Why Men Marry Bitches and embarking on the endless saga to be the stronger person who loves less and needs less. To love unconditionally and show it is an epic fail (yes, I’m aware that this is my buzz statement of the month, but I’m still finding appropriate literary use for it) worthy of prompt dumpage from the counter relationshipee. Showing this kind of devotion at the beginning of a relationship earns our oh-so-favorite and infamous titles “Crazy,” “Stalker,” and “Obsessed.” Once the “right” game is played with endless charades of “I am FINE ON MY OWN” and the fish is caught and big diamond ring finally scored, people spend the rest of their lives bickering, having lame to mediocre sex, and generally feeling disgusted and annoyed.

                Courtship may not be what it once was and people really may not love as deeply as they once did (we do, after all, spend so much time over-thinking everything I don’t know what superhero among us can still remain stable and sensitized to love), but amore is still largely what makes the world go round. However, love and relationships have taken a much, much different form in recent decades (think circa 1960). Free love basically means monogamy is dated and independence means career should take precedence over family. Who gives up a college of choice for a significant other anymore (and if they do, they spend the rest of their life resentful with lots of leverage in arguments), who falls madly in love and stays that way, and who still forgoes that big promotion in Arkansas because California has better schools for the kids (this is obviously a metaphor)? Not many people. Women need to be Barbie in a pencil skirt making six-digit salaries to be appealing and men are required to drive the jag and have at least 17 years of business experience on Wall Street by the time they are 30 to be considered eligible. And hopeless romantics? Forget those; they are the losers portrayed in romantic comedies that rarely make the ratings at box office (I mean, really, who wants to see that junk when we can see movies about promiscuity, Vegas, and political unrest?

                I don’t mean to discredit relationships entirely, especially because I consider myself and many of those around me to be greatly blessed in this area, but I will say that being the cynic I am my faith in relationships in today’s society is not at its peak. It really is hard to find your match, and the average 20-something often does not get as lucky as some of us in finding love. In a world that lacks integrity and is uninterested in monogamy, it is difficult to invest heart and soul in something you don’t entirely trust, and I believe that is where our I-Don’t-Need-Anyone mentality came from to begin with. It’s easier to be strong and build walls than to put forth tremendous effort for a person who may end up letting them down in the future.

                We have all been screwed by relationships in the past, and I think it’s safe to say that we as a generation are pretty jaded when it comes to the love topic. But as your textbook realist, I have to wonder why we don’t take the veracity of our situation and treat it as any other part of our life that requires effort and emotion: take it for what it is, do your best, be mature, and remember that good things come to those who wait – so splurge a little time-wise when looking for the right one so you don’t spend the rest of your life in the salon or man-cave to avoid the inevitable misery at home. Relationships are sacred, and I think it’s vitally important to preserve and protect what means the most. So don’t trash it, put down your lover, or spend too much time nagging or being unappreciative. Those things are trivial, the very thing we want our relationships to not be.

The Power of Intangibility

              I recently read Niall Ferguson’s The Ascent of Money: A financial History of the World. In this book, Ferguson illuminates the fact that the world’s financial system has been, nearly since the beginning of time, not a physical entity but rather an elusive notion of existence that dictates the inter-workings of our universe. Individuals and nations alike work to create more money, but between cash flow through bonds, stocks, savings, hedge funds, and loans, we basically keep borrowing money from one place to give to another, both on an individual scale as well as a global one. And again, this silent but intangible superpower rules the goings-on of the world we live in from the price of the milk we picked up this morning to the plummeting interest rates on our home’s mortgage. While attempting to grasp the extraordinary power that this global financial illusion has on each of our lives, I began to think of other intangibilities which exert similar force. Politics and religion, right and wrong, and even love and hate embody some potent governing forces that are not tangible objects but belief systems of sort. Yes, wars have been fought over land and gold, but battles of the grandest scale have resided over religion, power, and freedom—indefinable concepts that have had a infinitely bigger impact on our world than any physical substance could. Indeed, it quickly becomes obvious that a great majority of what is most significant and has been since the beginning of time has been intangible.

                Taking this into account, it is more important than ever to for people our age to have a belief system. In a world of propaganda and hogwash media influence, people who lack a sound foundation ebb and flow with the masses, a phenomenon history has proven more than once to have disastrous consequences. We have come to a time when what is tangible is what’s most important, but as one can see, it is what is intangible that still governs. A person without a belief system is one with no backbone, and that on a large scale is a recipe for disaster, a travesty of no one being able to stand for what’s right because what’s good and what’s bad is muddled into a big pile of gray.

                Although I was raised Christian and was deeply involved in the church from a very young age, I do not protest that joining an organized religion is the only answer to our belief-less society. It is healthy for a nation to vary in their beliefs—to be of one mind is communistic and deadly. We can learn a lesson from genetics, where diversity is necessary for survival: if homo sapiens were all the same, one disease could wipe out the entire human race in a diminutive amount of time. It is genetic diversification that prevents this from happening. Much the same, diversity in beliefs enables societies to gather evidence from all sides and decipher the truth. After all, no argument is a good one if the counter-argument is not fully understood. Education, as it usually is, is key, and merely going along for the ride or with what the majority seems to believe is not a belief system; it’s pure naivety. Sheep to the slaughter anyone?

                I am passionate about having a solid belief system, and perhaps I come off as being a little harsh. But I do believe that you cannot be whole without knowing whether you believe in God, what political stance you take, where you stand on social issues, and have a good understanding of what is right and what is wrong. Being fanatical or extremist is not the answer, but attempting to nail down some principles at this stage of life is of the essence when searching for truth and for meaning seems to be a common thread among those our age. Having a solid belief system also does not mean that we cannot change; it just means that we have a foundation on which to build—and buildings are often modified and updated. As we begin to truly start our lives, have children, and make a name for ourselves in this world, we can’t forget the most important part of our identity, and we can’t forget that intangibility is what makes it so powerful.

               

Just Weirdos in Sheep's Clothing

A lot of people our age tend to be on an endless quest to find themselves, establish a solid worldview, and figure out who the heck they are in general. I do not fall far from this description of the typical 20-something, but I can say that over the past several years I have discovered some things to be true about this stage of life. One of the most significant is that you, and I, and Rihanna, and cousin Joe are just weird. So were our parents, and grandparents, and so on. We spend a great deal of our time trying to mask this fact when in reality, most people reach an age or point in life where they stop caring—these are the people we typically view as lunatics and psychos. The truth, however, is that these people have come to terms with the cliché that we are all different, individual, and oftentimes do not share the same viewpoints, nor do we have to. In actuality, it’s just too much work to keep up with who’s doing what, going where, voting for who to seem like we aren’t the oddball out—it just takes a number of us awhile to realize this. Individuality is such a trend, but so many people still venture to judge, point fingers, and deem individual variations as “strange.”

For me, I stopped caring what other people thought a long time ago when nearly every weird thing I did seemed to become a major defense trial—“you spend too much money on stupid stuff,” “You are closed-minded,” “You can’t claim to be a Christian while holding a class of wine,” “you treat your dogs better than you would children,” bla bla bla. I have often questioned my sanity and normalcy, and as of late I have adapted to my own weirdness and even come to find it endearing. Mature people can handle others’ peculiarity. One of my dearest friends and I couldn’t be more opposite in major issues related to life—she’s Democrat; I’m Republican, she is on a mission to reduce carbon emissions and stop the endangerment of whales; I have to ask at her house every time if it’s plastic bags that are recyclable—but we share a mutual and deep respect for one another’s worldview, and never once have we argued over our differences. The same goes for myself and V (boyfriend). While he (along with most people who know me) believes that my conservative views are often a wee bit over the top and one-sided, he respects what I believe, and we discuss the world as one would a piece of art—as an item that is open to interpretation which may look completely different to you than it does to me.

Aside from individuality being what makes the world go ‘round, who can possibly manage to control all of their idiosyncrasies anyway? More than that, who cares? Maybe I’m alone in this, but I have given up trying to “normalize” myself to any degree—it just doesn’t stick. For instance, recently I paid way more than I should have for an overly flowy and very coral Rachel Roy shirt. What would be to the majority of people a clothing item more hideous than most muumuus I find a treasure that I have been grabbing to wear several days a week. I’m having a love affair with this shirt. Strange? I suppose. At one time, it may have crossed my mind that someone might see me in the same damn shirt twice in one week. Fortunately, it's not my issue if someone is offended by this; I’ll wear it as much as I please even if I do look hideous in it.  As of late, I have also been preoccupied with putting in a backyard after nearly two years of living in my house. My obsessions are not typical of that of most people; mine absolutely consume all thoughts, actions, words, and facial expressions (yes, you can see concrete versus slate versus sand versus brick versus sod versus seed versus deck versus pergola written all over the worry lines in my face). I think about it day and night until I have a solution, have explored all options, and I won’t rest until it’s done and I’m sitting on a freshly manicured lawn with a mojito in my hand. Since I can’t yet afford the backyard of my dreams, I had to curb my enthusiasm by buying an oversized umbrella, lawn chairs, and a misting system to appease me while I wait—I will call this my desert paradise (did I mention that patience is not my strong suit?).

Yes, I seem fanatical. But this is my normal, and other than driving my man crazy at times, it’s not hurting anyone. I have a friend who spends 30 minutes each morning making sure that each eyelash is perfectly separated from the others using tweezers and other tools, another who obsesses at work over whether or not they took out the garbage on the right day, and still more who check the door 17 times before leaving the house. Some people can’t have sex with the light on, and some people can’t eat tomatoes because of the texture but will dig into guacamole with no problem. I know someone who likes to walk around the house with only one shoe on after work and another who will wait ten minutes at a gas station for one particular pump even if other slots are empty. These quirks aren’t “normal,” but they don’t require therapy or finger-pointing either.

While I have confessed myself to be  harebrained, everyone has things that make them “weird,” and there are probably more shows on television that depict oddities which we can relate to than any one of us cares to admit. You can’t have a trillion people on one planet and expect to not have some variations that may seem unusual. Individualism as a movement is great in theory, but a lot of the original concept floated away somewhere in the wind. Let’s really think about what that means. I may be too conservative, too compulsive, and too obsessed with my flowy coral shirt, but that’s me, and that’s ok.

Just Say No

Rolling out of bed after pressing snooze 12 times in an attempt to salvage another millisecond of sleep (as if this will help your day), scarfing breakfast, speeding to work while watching the rear-view mirror for CHPs, chugging coffee like your life depends on it, and flipping between conference calls, trips to the boss’ office, and managing to meet yet another impossible deadline is only a prelude to an evening full of humdrum errands ranging from Target to that online master’s class to the unattainable job of keeping a Cali home dust-free all before rushing to dinner with the folks.  Sound familiar? I’m sure it does. And you know it doesn’t stop here—wait, there’s a couple of seconds to spare, in which time an endless array of social plans, friends, family, and work obligations fill in the blanks. Some of us are working multiple jobs or carrying the weight of children and a family—multiply the situation by a thousand and you’ll get a glimpse of the stress. This same scenario repeats itself again, and again, and again until at some point along the way, we forget that we are humans rather than work ants carrying out the life task of contributing to the mound. We as young adults also have a hard time saying NO, and that shows when we are attending the birthday party of our second cousin’s brother’s sister’s best friend who we’ve met only twice before running off to the bi-monthly crabfest that is a sin to miss EVER all just in time to catch a late-night movie with the younger siblings who you just couldn’t deny a chaperone. When we get home, we have to catch up on all that TiVo that’s been accumulating and also to “wind down,” as many (myself included) would say, before being able to fall asleep. Once we get into bed, our minds don’t stop churning and thinking about what we did or didn’t accomplish today, what we will or will not accomplish tomorrow, and how to fill that already non-existent time with more “fun” things like BBQs, cocktail parties, and vacations. Why is it that we can’t just slow down?

Some individuals who have been categorized as mentally insane attribute solitude and quiet to the most scary situation in the world—the mind, when left idle, can be a very intimidating place. Taking a moment to stop and smell the roses often leads that otherwise hyper-speed mechanism to find its creativity, but it can also lend time to becoming anxious and antsy, especially for those who can’t locate the desire to lay off the pace a bit. For these people—and I would dare to assume that most of us 20-somethings fall into this category—this is a sure sign that we need to slow down more than anyone else. Stress is one of the biggest causes of disease known to man, but we have become so accustomed to high levels of this killer, we no longer notice when we are strained and even go to great lengths to fill our schedules even more—it’s almost as though we are scared of down-time.

Eastern cultures have always been big proponents of meditation, and I’m finally starting to realize myself that there is some significant weight to the claims. While I have tried my share of meditation to quiet my frenzied spirit and escape my frantic agenda, always in the past I found myself wondering what yummy dinner my man would make, how much money I had in my bank account, and whether I closed that confidential document I left on my desk at work. I would open my eyes to realize I hadn’t focused on my breathing for more than 10 seconds max, hadn’t relaxed my body judging by my now sore back that I strained in my meditation pose, and was more frazzled at having just wasted a very long 20 minutes of life sitting in one place when I could have been doing something much more important, like waxing the beamer, organizing the closet, or finishing that project for work. At some point, however, everyone reaches a pinnacle and needs to just stop. For me that came several weeks ago when I was absolutely convinced I was about to have a monstrous nervous breakdown (keep in mind I’m a diagnosed hypochondriac). I lit a candle, turned on some cheesy nature sounds, and lay down on my yoga mat with eyes closed and a stronger desire than I can describe to just escape it all. I did this for an astonishing (for me) 15 minutes and rose with a feeling I can’t quite articulate. Never before had I felt more awake—must be a miracle from God, energized, and positive. I thought that maybe in my meditative state I took some magic happy pill that made me instantly feel better. While keeping my mind from roaming was quite literally one of the most impossible tasks I’ve encountered, it was an experience that I can compare to nothing else in our overly-scheduled lives.

I won’t mention that I haven’t had the time to meditate since (go figure), but I will say that this med-session put a lot of things into perspective for me. For one, there really is no replacement for just sitting, staring, devoid of thought. We do not need the TV on while we are drinking our nightly glass of wine, our iPods in our ears when we are walking on the beach, a conversation beaming across the table at every dinner. Our daily programs may not become less filled, but we can stop making “fun” plans or finding things to fill our miniscule empty spaces, taking those moments here and there to build a stronghold against letting stress in. Our minds need some time to repair, and this in turn helps our bodies repair. Sometimes we do need to just take a breath, savor the silence, and center.

Survival of the Fittest—er—Richest…or Most-Educated…

It started back in grade school for girls with twin day and for boys with who had more items in their Hot Wheels collection. We didn’t want to be the one who stood out in dumpy clothes or as the idiot who couldn’t answer Mrs. Jones’ times table question. In middle school, it got even worse. Now we couldn’t enjoy the simplicity of matching our best friend down to the same scrunchie—we had to dress like our friends without actually seeming like we were trying to look like each other. And boys, don’t pretend you didn’t do this too—“Thomas got the new N64 game, and I NEEEEEEED it. TODAAAAAAAAAY” (insert whining and crying and begging on the floor here). Once we got to high school, this little thing called competition became a little more defined, even though in reality it was around since the wee years of our existence. At this interesting life juncture, many of us flat-out manipulated, dictated, and finagled our way to being the best in a variety of different things—athletics, academics, popularity, attire, and, if you were “lucky” enough to attend a high school like mine, how much money your parents made and furthermore bestowed upon you in the form of a Benz, the latest and greatest from Abercrombie and Fitch, and extravagant spring break vacations (luckily, I did NOT fall into this, ahem, financial category, so was spared the drama).

A lot of us I would presume, myself included, believed that the ridiculousness of competition would fade with age. As I delved into college culture, however, I was soon met with the realization that competition does not weaken at all but rather evolves with each life stage into something increasingly more annoying with each new dimension. Because in college most of us were too poor to worry about material goods, we focused on getting the highest grades, scoring the best professor recommendations, and landing job opportunities right out of school. Within the college mumbo-jumbo era many also begin to transition to the next arena of life where the competition gets even stiffer—The Real World. This is where most of us in our 20-somethings land today—and it’s brutal out there. Girls start rallying for the biggest diamond in record time and guys for the best positions at work and the ability to buy rounds of drinks for buds at the priciest hotspot. We are suddenly surrounded by circles of friends who care more about your annual salary and designer handbag than the wine they are drinking with good company. Conversation becomes calculated and questions pointed—meanwhile, if you stop and stare for a moment, you can almost see the wheels turning and thoughts of “luckily my house has more square-footage than that,” and “my husband would never cheat on me like yours does on you” practically beaming from the top of their heads. House parties turn from a parade of booze and hookups in days of old to a showcase for amazingness and one-upping others in the social circle—via imported furniture and the latest beverages from Napa’s finest and most exclusive wine club no less. “So-and-so lost his job” and private satisfaction with being the first to share this information abounds since the tattler maintains a cushy position in their own company. This is competition at its finest, Mean Girls at its peak. Most people our age would agree that a small dose of competition is healthy and even beneficial in pushing us to reach farther than we normally would, but in taking a step back and realizing where we have actually taken competition, we see that the entire concept is down-right ridiculous.

Is this a new phenomenon? Not at all. If nothing else, competition in this sense has actually improved over the decades. Remember the class system? Aristocracy? Social events to do nothing more than socially promote? Competition is absolutely not novel in our society, and it would be foolish to think that this very common part of life would one day subside. What I do think, however, is that 20-somethings need to chill on the constant attempt to out-do and focus more on the important things of life. We do not live in the 1800’s, and the class system is for the most part dead—we should keep it that way. Margaritas on this fine spring day anyone?

Customer Service:10,000 B.C.-~A.D. 1990. Beloved Stress-Reliever and Source of Happiness. RIP

          As 20-somethings, we were born in an age where customer service for any company’s success was number one. Managers still went to great lengths to cure an unsatisfied customer, and gas station attendants wore large smiles on their faces at the thought of pumping your fuel. Over the course of the past two decades, however, I don’t think that I’m alone in saying that customer service has dissipated to a rare but appreciated pleasant surprise rather than the norm. Today, what we see pervasively are non-commission-based employees who find it difficult to use a calculator and even more challenging to provide any particle of assistance and self-checkouts at the grocery store that repeatedly tell you “We’re sorry; your card cannot be read” and “Please scan your item again” in annoyingly dramatic computer-generated tones. More and more you hear not of just self-righteous older individuals who have too much money for their own good refusing to give their business to organizations that have poor customer service, but of people our age—in the fun-loving and carefree 20’s—who walk out of restaurants before paying the bill and decline to support stores where employees sport bad attitudes.

          The rise and wonder of this century’s technological blast has decreased the need for service employees—no more teens to pump our gas, fewer grocers to help us check out our items, and less need for detailed information about a product since hey, you can always research the product via Google before making a decisive purchase. Employees have noticeably gotten lazier, less knowledgeable about what they are selling, and oftentimes downright put out by having to assist their customers. While the age of advancement has brought about a substantial amount of ease in our daily lives, can a computer really replace one-on-one attention from an actual human being? And what has happened to customer service as a whole?

          With this topic I can’t help but think about some of my all-time favorites in the area of poor customer service. Last year when the lover and I embarked on the tragically boring task of buying a refrigerator for my new house, we stared in disbelief as employee after employee spotted us pondering the giant black, overpriced Samsung and, all kidding aside, literally ran in the other direction, pretending to be busy or not see us at all. After about 20 minutes of this ridiculousness, I sought out a friendly-looking girl in the television area for some assistance with the refrigerator quest. I was met with a look up and down, a smirk, and a “I obviously don’t work in appliances”—No kidding. Although I’m not the type of person to report to a manager, I was irritated enough with the refrigerator-dubbed buying day and the impossible task of purchasing one without the help of an employee that I decided to finally take the plunge and complain. The manager, no older than myself, also smirked and gave me an answer that lost Best Buy $2000.

          As for restaurant service, where do I even begin? No one minds slow service, but negligent service is another matter. Recently, lover and I went to an up-scale Beverly Hills hotspot. This “hotspot” didn’t get our drink order or water until we had been there for over 20 minutes and had already asked several people for menus. When we finally got our meal, there was a large fish scale in one of the dishes, which was choked on. The manager never came out to apologize, and when approached, rudely asked us what he should do about it. It was obvious that the restaurant took no concern over whether we had a satisfactory experience or not. Offended and completely turned-off to the restaurant, we left in a fury and with the intent to never return.

          I’m personally weary of faulty machines that have replaced phone tellers, lazy and rude employees, and managers who feel that losing a customer here and there is really no big deal. The quality of service has not gotten better with the rise in technology; it has allowed people to not provide the same service they used to because machines are expected to pick up the slack. I, admittedly old-fashioned in certain areas, firmly believe that no electronic teller can replace a living, cognitive individual--please note the italicized word here.

          So what does constitute good service? Some commendable examples include Zappos.com, who provides free overnight shipping and returns, 24-hour customer service with friendly and, get this, knowledgeable staff; Ebay, who stands behind their policies 100% and rarely disappoints; and yes, even the rare restaurant. Let me give you an example: when you go to a famous chef’s eatery and he not only comes out to wish the birthday girl a happy day but also takes the time to sincerely talk to each individual and get to know where they are from, what they do, and how they enjoyed the food and service experience, you know you don’t care as much about how the food tastes anymore. Providing several desserts on the house for the entire party was a nice addition too, but not much sweat off a restaurateur’s back. These small gestures, however, gained Mr. Fabio Viviani a table-full of dedicated lifelong customers (check out Café Firenze in Moorepark to see what I mean).

          As a 20-something living in this world and this time, let’s continue to support the companies that provide good service and offer suggestions (read: complaints) to those who blatantly do not care about the customer or realize that it’s the public that keeps a business up and running. If you work in customer service, as many of us do in some way or another, remember that what ultimately matters to an individual is the quality of service over quality of product, that the simple concept of customer service is not a mute point in our sometimes overly-technologic society.

Reality TV--Our New Entertainment Normal

Sitting down excitedly on the couch for the new episode of the Real Housewives of Orange County this week in my cozy and ridiculous hot pink velour track suit, some Kettle Corn, and a giant class of chocolate almond milk, I thought to myself just how lucky I was to have this opportunity. Are you kidding me?!? I actually thought for a moment that there was no place in this world I would rather be—I mean, I really couldn’t wait to be introduced to Tamra’s hot new Latin boyfriend or see how Alexis’ vacation would go in San Diego. Who wouldn’t be thrilled to watch other people they have never and will never meet? I can’t think of anyone.

In a society consumed with The Bachelor, Top Chef, Survivor, and Jersey Shore, it’s hard to imagine life without reality TV. It started in the 90’s with MTV and their national phenomenon Real World and then swept America’s youth up and away with Jack-Ass in the early 2000’s. This trend carried over into Laguna Beach and mainstream television with shows like Home Makeover and The Amazing Race. Nowadays, it’s difficult to find something on television that’s not a reality show—and maybe it’s even gone a little far.

                Back in the day, we watched Real World like it was crack. Miss an episode? Not a chance. We practically lived and breathed those characters, and the fact that this whole reality television concept was very new in existence made it all the more conversation-worthy in our daily lives. This was a whole new, delicious take on entertainment, and it was just that—entertaining! This made everyone feel that they could be a star, and it brought Hollywood close to home and within reach.

                But what about now? It’s one thing to follow a group of young adults in their endeavors to find themselves through lots of booze, “clubbin’,” a thousand sexual partners, and lots of hair-pulling, but it’s quite another to watch reality TV that glorifies gang life (Gangland) and highlights people’s odd and frequently detrimental compulsions (My Strange Addiction). Here’s the sad part, you know what I’m talking about because we all watch this stuff on a freakishly regular basis.

                I personally can’t remember a time when I sat down and had a traditional movie-thon because for me, reality-TV marathons are just way more appealing. I don’t know if it’s that we can relate more or if it’s the fact that reality television is close to the most brainless activity on the planet and is a breath of fresh air after a long day at work, but I think it’s safe to say that we as a society have become clinically obsessed with this movement. Although my common sense says that we should probably be reading the Economist rather than wasting time on Pawn Stars and Keeping Up with the Kardashians, I know that I will more than likely not be the first to pick up a magazine and read about the financial crisis in Europe when my favorite show is on.

                Reality TV has replaced teen flicks, soap operas, and trashy romance novels that gained so much popularity in their day, and this is no doubt to be attributed to the pure entertainment value, but also to the fact that this sort of entertainment in a way trivializes the seriousness of life—and we would be lying by denying that this is at least in part true for all of us. With all of the disaster, financial crisis, illness, and other tragedy that many of us are exposed to each day, it is refreshing to delve into a world where the biggest issue is so-and-so didn’t make it into the final round of Cupcake Wars.

                Will this trend end? Not likely—and I’m okay with that. I don’t yet have children to worry about following in the ways of Snookie, and I do feel mature enough myself to not be corrupted by the dismal morality that prevails on much of reality TV. While wasting hours in front of the tube watching idiots tumble around may not be the best use of time, it could always be worse, and I for one do not plan on giving up my favorite guilty pleasure. Now, time for a good glass of vino and some Kourtney and Kim Take New York……………..

We Are What We Eat; We Are What We Do

Despite my being someone who is surrounded by primarily those educated and employed in the sciences, the well-being of our earth has never really—here’s where several of you will disown me— touched home base with me. Closed-minded as this may seem to some, it has been true since the whole global warming phenomenon took root years ago. I just never really bothered to care. Recently, however, I have taken a slightly different approach. How can someone who is careful to avoid using cleaning supplies with harmful chemicals really not stop and take a look at the bigger picture? So I did. Now I’m buying organic with a dual purpose—not only am I saving my body from the detrimental pesticides, but I’m also saving the earth. Don’t we breathe this crap anyway even if we don’t buy the pesticide-infested produce? This is something that really does affect us all—in a huge and scary way. Despite my usual indifference to our environment, I do understand the recycle bins, using paper bags, and buying organic—not just for our health, but for our earth. But one thing I don’t understand is how the average 20-something can delve into a campaign to save the world, all while staying sustained on processed food and neglecting to breathe some fresh air by leaving the couch. We jump on the bandwagon to improve the world we live in, but we forget to save the most important environment of them all: the human body. How can we have a healthy earth without starting with ourselves?

As 20-somethings, it would be naïve to say that we are new to the health craze that has recently taken hold of our society. People love fads, and I can’t help but think that this is just another to add to the repertoire. However, as a devout and self-proclaimed health-nut, I for one am pleased that awareness has been brought to such a vital topic amidst what most deem “news-worthy”—politics, war, global warming, Charlie Sheen, etc. etc. etc. We all know the basics of what it means to be healthy—eat wholesome food, cut back on sugar, exercise—right? But there’s so much more. There is an entire iceberg of health that most of us do not even consider, let alone touch the tip. Many people take the route of judging health by weight, and this couldn’t be farther from accurate. Let’s think for a second— what toothpaste are we using? What deodorant? Shampoo? What are we putting on our face that not only harms us but the environment? Healthy bodies and a healthy world are not and cannot be mutually exclusive. Name-brand toothpaste contains fluoride, the main ingredient in rat poisoning, as well as Triclosan, a proven carcinogen. Even though we brush, rinse, and spit, we absorb these toxins into our blood stream within seconds (we won’t even get started on the fact that fluoride is added to our water supply). Name-brand deodorant contains massive amounts of aluminum, which is widely known to cause breast cancer and Alzheimer ’s disease. Shampoo contains parabens—destructive preservatives—and synthetic chemicals that damage the skin and seep into the epidermis and on into the blood stream, carrying these substances to all areas of the body. Over time, these chemicals from the elements of our daily goings-on compound at astronomical rates, leaving our already-weakened immune systems to desperately fight for life. No wonder we always feel sluggish, foggy, and tired. We may do everything right for our health—eat lots of greens, run five miles every morning, and get enough z’s, but all this is for naught if we don’t look at the whole picture—the picture that includes protecting ourselves from everyday chemicals and artificial substances which in turn keeps our environment cleaner.

Why is all this relevant to us? Think of the abuse our bodies underwent as teenagers and young adults. We grew up on Taco Bell and Dr. Pepper, hot tamales and movie-theatre popcorn, Frito boats and Twinkies. Fried, artificial, processed. Now fast forward to college—we may have started eating better on a daily basis, and the athletics kept us slim, but never in our lives before or since did we receive fewer hours of shut-eye, more booze, more medium pizzas (………and hot wings, and potato wedges, and fresh-made midnight brownies) on those countless late-night binges, and more days in the sun without sunscreen. By the mid-20’s, our bodies are miraculously still surviving considering what we have already put them through.  Now is the time—and it’s certainly not a second too early—to start taking care of ourselves if we really want to have a manageable quality of life, let alone a better environment, later.

Please note: I’m not saying ditch the hair bleach and buy only clothes made from organic cotton. I plead most guilty for buying Mac makeup, feeding my dogs animal by-products made on pollution-inducing machines, and drinking out of more plastic Starbucks cups than the average American. I also am guilty of being a complete stress-basket most days of the week, drinking way more vino than could possibly be considered “heart-healthy,” and rarely getting more than seven hours of sleep each night. Also on the rare occasion, I enjoy myself several items from the Taco Bell menu or indulge in a giant ice-cream delight at the local creamery. I’m not saying go nuts with this, just give it some serious and real thought—make the larger, more important choices that will impact your body and your environment as a whole.

So girls and boys, let’s take a second to read some labels on something besides the soup can. Opt for the natural stuff—not because it’s a fad, but because it’s better for you and your environment. Buy organic—avoid the harmful pesticides that cause cancer and birth defects. Start using natural skin-care products that contain sunscreen to protect your no-doubt already damaged skin. Pretend you’re not a gym-rat and try some yoga or running outside—give the cardio machines a rest and save some energy! If we don’t start doing these things in our 20’s, it may be too late to prevent those crow’s feet and…..ahem…..heart disease…..when we think about them in our 30’s. If you care about the world you live in, you know that everyone must do their part to make a difference—a huge part of that difference is you taking care of you.

What Am I Good At? What Am I Doing? Where Am I Going?

After years of dedication to education and perfectionism, I’m at the ripe age of 24 and unsure as of what I’m doing in this world. I graduated from high school a year early only to enter college, finish my undergraduate degree in 3 ½ years in addition to beginning my teaching credential in that time, and begin teaching in a low-income, gang-ridden school at the age of 21. I believe I have been in way over my head from the get-go, and my go-getter attitude has proven more than once to get me in a heap of trouble. So what am I good at? Getting things accomplished, I suppose, and ambition—now I’m really good at that (is it possible to be good at ambition? I don’t know, but it sounds good for the time being). After a few months of teaching and realizing that the job was exhausting, political, and oftentimes unfruitful, I promptly began the masters program at Cal State Bakersfield in School Counseling, thinking that the job wouldn’t be cushy, but at the very least, behind the scenes, in which, as all teachers very-well know, is the most sought-after career choice after a grueling day in the classroom. During the course of my first year as an educator, I relished in having money—REAL money. I was still living at home since my little self was just 21 and not yet ready to move out of mommy’s abode, so next came the dream car, the decadent vacations, and the Prada. Student loans? O yeah, those. Those won’t be due until I’m done with grad school in two years. I lived, I learned, and I developed a mild case of alcoholism from the new-found joy of forgetfulness after a difficult day that you couldn’t quite shake (I’m only half joking here). By the end of first semester, however, I began to sincerely enjoy my job—yes, the gang members who were on school probation for assaulting a teacher or stabbing a classmate, the impossible task of teaching English language learners to write a half-comprehensible essay, and also the small joys that came from a student thanking you for helping them grasp a concept or having an entire class passing their state tests (this is a big accomplishment in today’s testing-ridden educational system). I started looking forward to my time with the students, who at the very least, never failed to keep things interesting. Aside from the lockdowns, bomb threats, and near-fights in my classroom that first year, my students respected me, and I had a very positive rapport with some of the toughest kids at that school. I loved this and grew fond of those students, the ones that everyone else was afraid of, because we understood each other in a way (mysteriously, since I’m from a white, predominantly middle-class family and live across the street from Joey Porter). I loved that students learn despite their circumstances, and I was fascinated that this is even possible. I finished out that first year on a positive note, with one year done of grad school, a new job offer closer to my home, and a cushy sign-on bonus waiting for me the very next year.

                By the summer of that year, I was feeling optimistic, accomplished, and good at what I did. I came to a new high school with the worst reputation in the district because of location (next to the “inner-city” ghetto), but I had come from a place that taught me a lot. I was confident in my classroom management skills, and I knew that it would be ok. That second year will reside in my memory as one of the best. We were a young staff who worked together to create a school where learning was fostered, and despite the difficult population, we stuck together and supported one another indisputably—through bi-weekly happy-hour sessions and weekend getaways, that is. But this was good for moral, and it paid off. From this year, I remember the great times, the respect I received—even considering being a fairly new teacher—and the stress of that time fades away in the distance. I was heavily delved into my graduate degree by this time in addition to fast-tracking to receive the professional clear for my credential—basically a secondary credential program to solidify a teaching credential for life. I knew that I would one day leave the teaching profession, but I always wanted a back-up plan, as I often do, and needed the security of knowing that I could always return to the classroom if need be. I was swamped with working full-time (full-time being somewhat of a joke to a teacher, who knows that it’s really more like TWO full-time jobs to be an educator with endless planning, grading, adjunct duties, and extra student tutoring), going to four-hour classes every night, and attending BTSA meetings (oftentimes skipping class to attend these) in order to finish the clearing of my credential in one year rather than two. Like I said, ambition for me has never been an issue…..I took this all in stride and finished the year out strong. That summer, I spent my time interning at a local middle school to finish up the clinical aspect of my degree and received a job offer at my high school to do part-time teaching/part-time counseling. This would be a heavy workload, no prep period, new classes to teach, and a whole new job in the counseling realm, but I readily accepted the task. I finished my degree that next spring, graduating at 22 with my master’s degree in Educational Counseling. I loved my job, however busy, and I finally felt my place in the world. That all changed in the spring of that year, just before the end of school, when I found out that our senior and head counselor would be leaving. By leaving, I mean moving to another school, leaving four brand-new, inexperienced, first-year counselors to pick up the slack. While I don’t blame him personally, I was scared out of my wits to learn that I would, as a measly counselor with just one year of part-time experience, be given the responsibility of manning the following year’s seniors as our high school’s very first graduating class. No pressure. Actually, the pressure started just then when I was fully aware of the task that lay before me: no experience, no one to look to in our school for guidance. It was perhaps the scariest moment of my life to date—that is until the next school year actually started. I had spent the summer working, cleaning up and making sure that we would start the new year smoothly. Once the year actually got underway, I was quickly met with a feeling very familiar to me, a feeling I had not had in quite some time—I was in way over my head, perhaps more so than I had ever been before. This feeling, by the way, has not yet subsided as we enter the end of the school year. So here I stand yet again, a 24-year old female with three degrees and feeling completely and utterly at a loss in my personal aspirations. It is in my nature to question whether I could have done more, been more, but I suppose that is natural for some to wonder. Should I go on to get a PhD? Pursue a career as a college professor at a local jc? Finally make the move to my OC dream home?

After four years of working in my chosen career fields, I also do not feel as financially stable as I had wished and hoped for. I presume my previously frivolous spending habits have carried over into adulthood, thoughts of “I do not know how I ever lived without this sweater” or “I cannot possibly go on another day without that Gucci bag” often consuming my already packed mind. While I have gotten noticeably better—by “better,” I mean whereas before I was buying Chanel and going to The Vegas every other weekend, now I’m spending the same amount of money on a brand-new home in a great part of town, making the payments on a BMW, and also managing to save a little in the process—I should not feel the financial oppression that I do as a single individual with no dependents (aside from two very spoiled and very adorable Chihuahua puppies) on a fairly substantial salary. O wait. I’m living at my means. Now it makes sense. E does it again!

All things aside, however, I stand at a place where I should be 100% content, and I still feel that I should be doing more, feeling more accomplished. I do not necessarily desire more education, a different career, etc., but I do feel the pressure to do something outside of the realm of normal. Write a book. Get a regular column in the local newspaper. Take up significant charity work. Start a local campaign to stop youth gang-violence. Run marathons. I don’t want to be known, I just want to feel like I’ve accomplished something. I have a wonderful life—amazing boyfriend who supports me in all I do (even in my craziness), wonderful family, unbelievable friends. I love my home, my job (usually), the wine, the travel. So is it just my insatiable ambition that drives me to want to do more? Is this bad, or just a natural part of the human condition that promotes us to strive?