WRITING MY OWN TICKET
By now, my faithful friends are familiar with my starry-eyed gushing over My Beloved. And those who know him well recognize that I am right to be so smitten and grateful. He’s been an absolute brick through my job search; rather than renting himself out for fabrication, he should really consider professional coaching. You never met a man so full of faith in your talent that even the most jaded, cynical SOB would be convinced that there’s something special about her.
While the past month has not been a complete peaceable kingdom, almost all of our disagreements have stemmed from each of us wanting to sacrifice more than the other. (I know, sick, right?) After our last discussion, I realized I’m not going to win this argument. If he’s going to sacrifice his entire freelance career so he can sleep at night knowing we won’t lose the house, the least I can do is make that sacrifice worth something; namely, me landing a dream job. Sure, I need to find something that will pay the bills so my next job may not be the Right one but the one for Right Now. But I’m putting together a list of my dream job criteria and including those in my search terms. My Beloved encouraged me from the beginning to apply to at least one pie-in-the-sky opportunity a week, and I think I’m getting to the point where I know what that looks like.
Here’s what I have so far:
• HIV/AIDS or other infectious disease
• Non-lab based
• Public speaking/presentations
• Requires a deep understanding of some concept (scientific or technical); I like to be an expert
• Travel
• Tuition reimbursement
When I think about what I’ve enjoyed most in my past positions, my favorite moments are when I learn/discover something new on my own and when I can share what I know with others. The next step is to figure out some job titles that describe this kind of challenge. Suggestions? jm964@drexel.edu
TRANSITIONING
The friends from junior/high school with whom I've recently connected have older kids; one is even in double digits! We were reminiscing about the dumb *ss things we did in high school which led many to comment on how much more paranoid they are as parents then even their parents were. Rocky terrain? Ixnay! Little league football? Not this year! Happy Meal toys? No lead poisoning for you, buddyboy! When their children were first born, they all swore to be better parents than they had. They would be more lenient, understanding, supportive. But as I listened to this discussion I realized the transition into Becoming Our Parents is complete. All it took was the kids getting to the age when those risky behaviours were no longer distant possibilities but a conversation that will happen within the next year or two. I'm sure our parents promised themselves the same things, only to move the boundaries once that cherubic 5yo turned into an eyeliner-wearing-Circle Jerks-listening preteen.
A lot of things have reminded me lately of how old I am [getting]: seeing these old friends and realizing the last time we spoke was not 5 years ago (the way it feels) but closer to 19; celebrating the wedding of My Beloved's cousin who, when I first met her, was an exception to the "no kids" rule at our own wedding; applying for jobs and being advised to "dumb down" my resume to make me more competitive with the 20-somethings; going gaga for Edward Cullen and realizing that that's a little creepy at my age. When I hit my 30s, I felt like I had come home. This was the age I was meant to be. Thirty fit me well and I relished in the freedom. Apparently, there's a big difference between 30 and 30+. The physical changes alone are staggering! If I'm this aged now, and (hopefully) less than halfway to the grave, what gruesome spectacle will I be at the end?!
The friends from junior/high school with whom I've recently connected have older kids; one is even in double digits! We were reminiscing about the dumb *ss things we did in high school which led many to comment on how much more paranoid they are as parents then even their parents were. Rocky terrain? Ixnay! Little league football? Not this year! Happy Meal toys? No lead poisoning for you, buddyboy! When their children were first born, they all swore to be better parents than they had. They would be more lenient, understanding, supportive. But as I listened to this discussion I realized the transition into Becoming Our Parents is complete. All it took was the kids getting to the age when those risky behaviours were no longer distant possibilities but a conversation that will happen within the next year or two. I'm sure our parents promised themselves the same things, only to move the boundaries once that cherubic 5yo turned into an eyeliner-wearing-Circle Jerks-listening preteen.
A lot of things have reminded me lately of how old I am [getting]: seeing these old friends and realizing the last time we spoke was not 5 years ago (the way it feels) but closer to 19; celebrating the wedding of My Beloved's cousin who, when I first met her, was an exception to the "no kids" rule at our own wedding; applying for jobs and being advised to "dumb down" my resume to make me more competitive with the 20-somethings; going gaga for Edward Cullen and realizing that that's a little creepy at my age. When I hit my 30s, I felt like I had come home. This was the age I was meant to be. Thirty fit me well and I relished in the freedom. Apparently, there's a big difference between 30 and 30+. The physical changes alone are staggering! If I'm this aged now, and (hopefully) less than halfway to the grave, what gruesome spectacle will I be at the end?!
