Talk to me

Interviews are like therapy. When you get in that room, a person you know nothing about, and who knows nothing about you, asks you questions for 45 minutes to an hour, and basically just listens to you talk. While you go on and on about yourself, the interviewer tries to read between the lines to get clues about the "real you." But instead of trying to diagnose you, or fix your problems, an interviewer, unlike a therapist, tries to determine whether or not your personality and your experience would make you a good match for the position they're trying to fill.

And afterwards, the person being interviewed learns something about his/herself. And feels relieved. And exhausted. And like he/she has accomplished something. Then getting the job, like getting "cured," may or may not happen. But one finds out with time.

Baby, don't hurt me

When I was in high school I signed up for an elective called Video/Film. I was the only honor roll student in the class (because honor roll students are far too busy taking AP European History and other more rigorous courses), and honor roll students all tend to know one another (know your competition!), so I didn't know anyone going in. It was mostly guys, mostly slackers, watching clips from important movies, learning how to operate a video camera, using cool camera and film tricks, and editing film the old fashioned way--on a machine, NOT on a computer. I was so into it. I loved coming up with ideas for our assignments: make a commercial for a product, shoot a music video, create a public service announcement (PSA).

My group included my petite, ambiguously ethnic self, a very large Hispanic male, a tall, thin, pale Caucasian male, and some slacker I can't quite picture clearly. I led my team on a Night-at-the-Roxbury-themed project to convince our fellow students to clean up the school. We used the famous song - What is Love? - to create a head-bopping PSA, in which we all starred, simultaneously head-bopping away as we pretended to throw away trash, that apparently was so good that a little later the instructor played the PSA for the entire school body during our morning announcements (our brand new school had a TV in each classroom where we would watch the announcements daily).

They would re-air the PSA several times over the next few years. Then I graduated. My younger brother, who graduated from the same school 3 years after me, told me that they were still playing my PSA 3 years after I had graduated, and 5 years after we had made the thing.

I wonder if it still comes on every once in a while, and how staticky and distorted the tape must be from the wear and tear.

Sock it to me

Sometimes when I get dressed I like to shake things up a bit. Take one foot, and put on my sock, followed by my shoe. Then do the same with the other foot. Similarly, you can dress your entire bottom half (undies and pants), then start on the top half, or vice versa. I also like to take the opportunity to test my balance. I will put on my sock and shoe while balancing on the other foot. You look silly while getting dressed, but it's amusing.

Learning

I am 28 years old and I am learning to drive. Stick. Because it is the only car my husband and I have, and it's been the only car we've had for 4 years now. So, it's high time I learn to drive it. Especially because we're in the midst of football season and I am stuck at home every Sunday unless I want to bike it, hoof it, or metro it. Also, husbands can only take so many trips to the mall (when you're still in courtship mode they actually seem to enjoy it, but then things change).

In an effort to broaden my horizons and deepen my knowledge of world events I have started reading The Economist, a British news/economics magazine that is better than anything similar in the US. I think the magazine is great, but I kind of wish that there was an American edition available because the grammar bugs the heck out of me. They spell "Mr" without a period at the end! Eg. "Mr Yellow is mellow, but Mr Brown must go down." And they spell "loath" as "loth," they say "take a decision" rather than "make a decision," and they have a strange way of conjugating verbs sometimes, but I have that issue with American English as well. I used to think that the only differences between American and British English where the extra "u"s (i.e. "colour") and "s"s instead of "z"s to spell stuff ("stabilise")but boy was I wrong. I am always learning something new. Whether I like it or not.

Weddings

I am going to a wedding today, on 10.10.10. I know several people getting married today, on this auspicious day. I think of how I have only been to a handful of weddings in my life, and each one has been so different.

The first one I don't remember because I was three: I was the flower girl at my own parents' wedding. Then when I was a teenager my oldest brother got married in a tiny Vegas chapel by a very unfortunate-looking chaplain. I remember we took a limo there, and during the ceremony I cried my eyes out I was so touched. My mom married again a few months before I did. It was at the church I used to attend when I was in high school, and the reception was at her house. I helped her pick her dress, and during the ceremony I lit a unity candle with my new sister-in-law, whom I had only just met.

Then I got married, and it was good.

A few months later, one of my friends from college had an Indian wedding in Connecticut, with Indian food, Indian music, and Indian guests. My husband and I sat at the non-Indian, college friends table. The colors, smells, sounds, and traditions were amazing. Later on that year, my brother-in-law got married in Chile, where the pastor never showed up and someone had to step in and impromptu marry the bride and groom, and where an aged pseudo-pop star hijacked the wedding by crooning for an hour. His music was not conducive to dancing.

Months later my husband and I were in Serbia, at a beautiful Orthodox ceremony with Roma music and incense and strong brandy sipped from 10:30am onwards. Now I am in anticipation of today, a Jewish wedding of two special ladies in a chimney in Georgetown.

Truthiness

Test your religious knowledge and see how you measure up. According to this article, atheists and agnostics know more about religion than folks that regularly attend worship services. The quiz is about religion in general.

I missed 2 questions. I never cease to be amazed at Americans' general cluelessness. The religion poll is just one small example. Most US-born Americans would not pass a citizenship test if they had to take one. We have no problem revising history to suit our purposes. We might not know how to define exactly what we believe, but we believe it strongly.

That's why Colbert is so good at what he does, and so funny. I can't wait for his march/rally in DC next month.

A pound of flesh

A girl loaned me her boobs once. It was one of the greatest acts of kindness I have experienced. It happened 11 years ago but I still think about it from time to time. I was competing in my 2nd and last pageant (*hallelujah*). The dress we all had to wear looked like a heavy duty black trash bag that someone had cleverly fashioned into an evening gown and festooned with sparkly sequins. Again, the dress wasn't our choice. Leading up to the pageant, I met a girl who decided to take me under her wing. She gave me makeup and hair advice. She didn't try to sabotage me, counteracting the old beauty queen stereotype.

At the time, I was feeling ok, but I was working a part-time job and in the middle of finals and AP exams, and had lost weight since my last dress fitting. And when I got dressed and began to despair that the dress was falling off my over-stressed, thinner-than-before-frame, she simply presented me with a small box containing an extra pair of chicken cutlets (trade secret, but now not so secret), and all was well. Not only did the dress fit better, but I was given an extra boost of confidence to boot.

It reminds me of my friend's flip-flop story. Sharing is something so simple and so universally kind and human.

Pet peeve

Why are we supposed to put two spaces after each sentence? Does anyone do that? It is standard in government writing, but why? It's so obsolete. With the advent of word processing (i.e., no more typewriters and their monospaced typefaces), the practice has been rendered obsolete. I learned this in 5th grade. Why hasn't everyone else learned this? Every person I've met in DC has looked at me like a crazy person when I've told them that

it isn't necessary. But the double spacing is a waste of time, and a waste of space. It's so frustrating! I feel like a crazy person. At least my husband agrees with me.

http://desktoppub.about.com/cs/typespacing/a/onetwospaces.htm

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sentence_spacing

Photo credit: Jeremy Meyer

Test eaze...1,2,3

When I took the GRE 6 years ago I promised myself I would never take another *stupid* standardized test again. I thought that I was in the clear as far as testing goes, because in the real world it's not about tests but about brains, skills, being in the right place at the right time, etc.

I was wrong.

If I want to start a career as a foreign service officer I have to take a special test for it, which is run by the ACT. The same ACT I took when I was 16. Along with the SAT, the AP exams, and the who's-it-what's-its I took my junior and senior years in high school which, when I look back now, just seem like a hazy fog of frantic test-taking, not necessarily my carefree years.

During those non-carefree years I used to make sure to wear my special, lucky black hoodie on the days I had a test to take. I stupidly wore the hoodie once when I helped to paint my brother's new house and thus ended up getting eggshell-colored paint on it. I threw the hoodie away. I shouldn't have thrown it away, though. A little paint wouldn't have taken away the hoodie's natural powers --and if I had the hoodie now I could have worn it to take this test I have to take sometime in the next several months. I could use some luck. The failure rate for this particular test is 80%.

4/30/2012 edit: Actually, the passage rate is 40%. And only 3% of the people that take the test end up becoming an FSO. I like them odds. Still haven't taken the test. I had discovered that it would be a good idea to study, so that's what I kind have been doing.

The kids are alright

I have been observing that the people in my area that have kids are so old. I don't feel like I could be a part of their club yet. If I were to live in other parts of the country I would see much younger couples with kids and babies, and I could probably see myself more like them and not feel so weird about the idea of growing my family. I know some pregnant people, and I know so many people getting married in the next year. We are growing up.

I can't wait for my friends' wedding in a few weeks because it's going to be in Serbia. Serbian weddings sound wild. The festivities are supposed to begin at 10:30am and they proceed until at least 4am the next morning. I was told by a Balkan coworker to bring antacids and tylenol, because we will be wined, dined, and danced for almost 24 hours straight. I can't wait.

Today I went to a national park and my friends and I saw a lot of children. I felt kind of like we were on a child safari, observing the different shapes, sizes, haircuts, and wardrobe choices. All kids, with the exception of my darling nieces and nephews, are strange and alien to me. Where I live, you don't see many, and when you do they are usually in 1s and 2s and they're just visiting.

Perchance to dream

My mom grew up in the Philippines, speaking Tagalog (Filipino), but when she came to the States she pretty much stuck to English, and got really good at it. She doesn't have a foreign accent at all.

She didn't speak Tagalog with my brothers and me as we grew up, thinking that it wasn't a language worth knowing, really. She was much more interested in us taking Spanish in school and concentrating on that. From what I recall, the only Tagalog word she used with us is the word "muta." Muta is what Americans would call the "sleep" in their eyes, the crusty stuff in our eyes each morning. I never heard my mom say the English equivalent to us. I taught my husband to say muta pretty early on in our relationship. Any kids I might have one day will also learn muta. But I hope my own family could also learn and use other Tagalog words, in addition to speaking Spanish, since that's my husband's native language. Unlike my mom, I believe the more languages, the better. There's always room for more.

Sharing is caring

I'm sharing now and it's scary. I'm used to having only 2 people read my blog, my buddy who also blogs, regularly, (you'll note that she's also the one that leaves me comments) and my hubby a.k.a. The Hubmiester. And maybe my dad? Although I'm not sure.

Quickies

Just got a call from my grandma. I love that woman. And she's also very efficient. Our phone chats are always brief. This one was just over 3 minutes, and we managed to talk about my return from Mexico, my work, and babies. She even wished me a happy Thanksgiving. We don't talk that often. I'm so much better in person.

I don't give good phone.

Rut

It has come to my attention that I do nothing. When trying to account for what I do with my time, I find that my time passes, but I didn’t really use that time to do anything in particular; and seldom anything of note. When someone asks me the dreaded question, so, what do you do in your spare time? I usually say I cook, I read, I watch movies, I like languages.

I cook but I’m not a cook.

I read but I’m not an avid reader.

I have been told that I am a skilled writer, but I’m not a writer. I rarely write anything. I think I’m pretty good at writing emails, but I don’t use email to keep in touch with people anymore. I use Facebook, like everyone else. I don’t tell anyone that I write, or used to write, or would like to write. Somehow it’s easier to say that I watch movies, probably because watching is passive, and writing is active and, to me, too personal to share with someone I barely know.

I believe I’m naturally athletic, but I don’t exercise. I walk every day, but it’s not much, and it’s mostly to get from the metro to work or home. And when I walk, I don’t wear sensible shoes. I wear flats that smush my toes, flip flops that restrict the natural movement of my feet.

I study languages but I’m neither a polyglot nor a linguist. The problem is I study but I don’t speak.

I’m not trying to be harsh on myself, I’m just trying to figure myself out. I think I would like to be a person that does something. A person that has hobbies, talents, skills. I do enjoy life and I have a good time in my spare time, it’s just that I would like to transfer my creativity into activity.

When left to her own devices

Will visit the pie shop 3 times in the space of a week

Will decide to start running, and start doing it every day

Will relish the feeling of her sore muscles

Will pamper herself with foot cream, foot scrub, and foot spray

Will watch random movies fully reclined in a large comfy (faux?) leather seat, ordering her snacks from the server, grinning the whole while from ear to ear

Will get an hour-long pedicure

Will try to read challenging authors

Will take walks in the park, in the plaza, in the neighborhood

Will do all this by herself, while thinking of her loved ones

Will plot how she will pamper them as soon as she sees them again

The author waiting in the terminal

Gets reflective in airports

Is humble to a fault

(Is about to disprove the above)

Loves feeling clever

Is polite to a fault

Worries too much about what others think

Worries too much about others

Pretty much always feels safe

Loves to write, and writes to love

Has a small (but loyal) fan club

Could reach the stars

Is too humble/polite to reach above stars

/Stars above

Feels clever when performing word play

Writes infrequently and spontaneously

Lacks discipline

Fears cliché but is probably not that original

Wants to "speak up" and "be herself"

Has been informed it's time to begin boarding

Hearting Ira

I have a huge nerd crush on Ira Glass. He is so honest, perceptive, inquisitive, and vulnerable on his radio show. I have heard the most incredible stories on This American Life, stories that make me cry and laugh out loud, that make me stay up thinking, that give me fodder for conversation. Lately, when I stream his podcasts online, I hear Ira appealing for money for his wonderful show. I can't resist that man's plea. The thought of this show not being able to continue is unbearable.

The underrated dwarf

Having grumpy moments is a part of life. For instance, I've been grumpy for the past two days straight. I can pinpoint the exact time it started. I was in line to watch Sex in the City 2 (so inferior to the original).

I'm not positive as to why I feel this way, but my inquietude probably has something to do with the fact that I don't know what I'm going to be doing six months from now. You see, I'm going through my "semi-annual" check-up. I like to check up on myself every so often and make sure I'm 1) doing what I enjoy doing or I'm working towards it, 2) happy and healthy, 3) not being held back by anything (fear, insecurity, lack of resources), 4) gaining good experience/learning something, and, finally, 5) on the right path to continue enjoying those perks. So right now, I'm asking myself those check-up questions to help me determine if, 6 months from now, around January 2011, I will still be in good shape.

I'm currently in the middle of the above process, and for whatever reason it's making me restless, tired, and hard to please. For instance, despite having just bought a ticket to see some good friends I feel kind of eh. Despite the fact that my husband is going to visit me in a week, eh. I had some chocolate pie for dessert day. Still, eh.

Hopefully I can psyche myself into feeling non-grumpy very soon. Two days is too long to feel this way, especially over nothing concrete. Life is too short to suffer from long grumpy spells.

Night

When I sleep alone

I keep the curtains open

So the city keeps me company.

haiku-zit?

My mom is here and it was hard to fall asleep last night.

Her snores competing with the dropkicking thunder

Of the season's first rain.