A life abroad- Costa Rica vol. 2: This time it’s peanut buttery!

One of our writers, Alli Whalen, is teaching English in Costa Rica for a few months. Check back in for her updates on living a quarterlife abroad.

Last time you heard from me, I was eating a mango on a white, comfy couch. I’ve matured so much since then; rather than simply slicing fruit and eating it, I’ve actually tried baking in my Costa Rican kitchen. Actually, baking might be overstating it. I wanted to make peanut butter Rice Crispies squares, and what I wound up with is a sticky mass that I had to cool in a frying pan because I didn’t have anything better to use. Being here, it’s funny how quickly you grow used to replacing your comfort foods with new, weirder items that fill that void. Marshmallows are different here; so is the margarine (if you can call it that). Fortunately, there is an upside: the fruit is unreal. Pineapple, cantaloupe and watermelon have become the refreshment I’ve come to crave more than water to quench my thirst. And the sunsets are spectacular! And the endless blue skies! And the smiles on peoples’ faces! There is still so much that surprises me every day, and so many new experiences to tell you about. This truly is the right thing to do for the unsatisfied, daydreamy, lookin’-for-adventure-and-whatever-comes-my-way twenty-something. Dearest Reader, you’ve got to try this.

In a span of slightly less than three weeks, here are some of the things I’ve done: taught a series of ESL classes for the first time and had many success and a few awkward, quasi-failures (more on that later); midwifed a pitbull; ridden on the back of a motorcycle with a bag of chicken in one arm and a pair of mops in the other, like a hungry knight on her way to battle (don’t worry Mom, I hung on and wore my helmet); seen a real live monkey crossing a road; lounged at a beach all day just to see the sun sink into the ocean; tried fish tacos for the first time (amazing!); attended a local city festival of unknown origin where everyone was dressed like cowboys; smelled more horse poop than I ever dreamed I could do without being sick; shrieked as a 6-inch grasshopper hopped monstrously in front of our camera; eaten vast amounts of gallo pinto (rice and beans); had a brief fling with food poisoning; and sunned myself to a shade of golden brown currently unattainable in wintry Canada. Horse poop and food poisoning aside, isn’t that cool??

Let’s zoom in on a few specifics. I love where I live: The small community of Comunidad is warm and friendly, with a school, shops, and restaurants (or sodas, as they are called here) lining the main road. The neighbours have dogs and cute kids, the corner stores sell fresh fruit and there is a nice, sunny patch of lawn in my backyard that is perfect for tanning and drying laundry. Everyone says hello to one another, and when a car honks and you expect some obnoxious teenager to throw a tub of yogurt at you, it’s nothing but a friendly arm waving out the window instead. Not bad.

I walk to the local school every morning to teach – class starts at 8 am and it’s already boiling hot outside. My classroom is rectangular with high ceilings and two fans that look like they could spin much faster but just don’t have the energy.
Teaching is so interesting. I had figured my students to be youthful, eager and friendly. I was right about young and friendly, but just like any student in class at 8 am, they aren’t always bright eyed and jumping to answer questions. Indeed, I have danced and shouted and widened my eyes at them, looking for an answer: What’s your name? Who has a job? Who has a favorite band? Who can spell the word “Monday”? They’re not stupid. They’re shy, and those moments of silence after I’ve given them my all can be frustrating, especially with teenagers. I’ve got one group who are like a Latino Breakfast Club. It’s surprising but I have the most trouble with teen girls! Who knew? My other group of teens, consisting of boys in big running shoes and cut-off tank tops, had me panicked. Think you get over being in high school when you’re in your twenties? Think again. Anyway, it turns out that they’re my favorite class – they’re loud and fun, but individually sweet and eager to learn; they laugh at my jokes and they erase the blackboard for me after class – that’s enough to win my heart.

I’ve realized that with teaching, you’ve got to expect the unexpected. An elderly woman joined one of my morning classes and I was worried she would fall behind, or be grouchy and difficult. Naturally I was completely wrong. She’s amazing! She’s one of the best students and during a game of competitive hangman against a teammate, she actually snatched the marker off my desk (beating her opponent with speed) and, grinning, strolled up to the board and spelled her word-challenge- perfectly. Another one of my students, Orlan, is perpetually trying to be a bad-boy, but has revealed to me over and over again that he’s a sweetheart who just wants to become fluent in a new language. Last class, he handed me a scrap of paper that said “Hapy day of woman”. I thought it was some kind of weird joke, but I threw it in my bag of supplies to show the other teachers. Later I found out that it was Woman’s Day in Costa Rica, and that he had attempted to give me the equivalent of a greeting card. I’ll keep that paper forever!

I am constantly touched by the earnestness of my students. They’ve got so much character, and though they can be difficult or shy or chatty, to see the look of pride on their faces upon finally learning to pronounce the word “server” (after saying “serber” over and over again) is so inspiring. There is a shy boy in class who I feared wouldn’t progress because he would never enunciate loud enough to be heard. We were learning “I’m _______. What’s your name?” “ I’m _______. Nice to meet you.” Imagine my pride and surprise on that first class when he was the last one to leave and turned back with a smile and called “Nice to meet you!” I hope I never forget the way that made me feel. I feel like I understand why people fall in love with teaching, and why so many quarterlifers head to teacher’s college to seek a career that might just be worth it.

Now, coming back to teaching young people – it’s not always easy. They’re always taIking or fidgeting or looking at me blankly. Is this karma wagging its finger in my face for all of the times I wrote notes or giggled during tests? To return the universe to proper balance, I feel that I must give a shout-out to all teachers of my education past. I admire you so much more for sticking with us students who made class discussion as easy and fun as falling from a plane and landing in a cactus garden. Dr. Whiting, I’m sorry I stared at you with lips clamped shut and eyes glazed; Mr. Novitski, I’m sorry for laughing at you when you burped unexpectedly while speaking to us in grade 8; Mrs. Frauhauf, I’m sorry that the mean girls laughed at you, and that I didn’t stick up for you even though I thought you were so cool; Dr. Hewson, I’m sorry for peeling the membrane off of each slice of grapefruit I ate in your discussion group; and finally, to Ms. Bramwell, I’m sorry that Leslie, Kyle and I played Dare every class when we were supposed to be working on our creative writing, even though I know you secretly thought it was funny. I’m sorry. I get it now.

I’m going to sign off for tonight and watch the Oscars that I missed while in class. I can’t wait to find out who won! I’ll leave you with my best wishes for a warm week in March, and my recipe for a tasty treat when all you’ve got is a craving for sweets and a corner store in Latin America.

Alli’s Pan ‘o Cereal
3 bags of marshmallows (sounds like a lot but there are about nine per bag here)
1 box of the cheapest cereal you can find – in this case, Corn Flakes
4 tablespoons of peanut butter
2 tablespoons of cooking oil
1 saucepan
1 frying pan

Pour oil into the the saucepan. Wait for it to heat up. Keep waiting. Realize you have turned the wrong burner on. Turn on correct burner and watch the oil begin to move around the pan. Add the marshmallows and peanut butter. Begin stirring the marshmallows and note that the peanut butter is melting nicely but the mallows remain curiously whole. Stir impatiently and note no difference. Turn burner up to 3 (only goes as high as 6). Stir continuously, imagining that you see little strings of meltiness. Realize you are only fooling yourself and wonder what the heck these things are made of. Boldly turn burner up to 4. Finally mallows are melting into a gooey, peanut-buttery ball. Add cereal and stir with a vengeance. As you turn off the burner, realize you haven’t got a baking pan and search frantically for anything that will hold your precious creation. Find a large frying pan, chuckle to yourself, and sheepishly transfer cereal mix to pan and spread evenly. Place pan in fridge to cool for 20-30 minutes. Open fridge later and wonder why you have a frying pan full of hamburger-nacho stir-fry you don’t remember making. Realize this is the dessert you invented and that it’s supposed to look appealing. Taste-test. Nod approval and relish in the weird yet snack-worthy creation you have nobly made with what you had on hand in a foreign country. Enjoy!

Before Graduation…Maybe Even Before Spring Break?

Yea the Super Bowl was just played and you are only just now putting down a deposit on the spring break condo in Breckinridge, Cancun or wherever. But, May, graduation, interviews, student loan payments, and W-2’s are coming your way fast.

You are a young quarter lifer, 22-24 years of age, college attending cool dude or dudette, but crisis and opportunity are just around the corner.

Ergo, exploring, growing up and getting along with Quarter Life!

That senior year, last spring semester, just outside of college life, should be spent learning about yourself, beginning to explore the world of careers, potential jobs, bills, around the corner relationships and those people you will be leaving behind. You know those seven other decades of your life coming up. And putting into perspective with the 4, 5, 6+ years you are about to finish off. Lots of stuff to deal with. But, for now let us just concentrate on employment.

Quarter Lives help list activate:

Before the spring break debauchery starts…

1. Begin to develop a relationship with your academic advisor. That is if you have not and you probably don’t. They are actually helpful people and not just a signature for you to obtain when you need to be forced into or drop a class.
2. Stop by your career center and schedule an appointment to meet with a career counselor.
3. Attend at least one career program and/or presentation to hear alumni and other professionals talk about their jobs and career paths.
4. Not too late, gain practical experience and exposure to career fields through volunteer work, on-campus or part-time jobs. Apply, arrange, ass…get thee off of.
5. We need that resume done NOW!
6. If necessary, register and prepare for any graduate exams (GRE, MCAT,GAT, LSAT)
7. Do not burn any bridges for the next four months. Good-byes to faculty, staff, and friends are coming, but they will also be references, contacts and helpful networks for you later on. So do not let that last beer pong game get in the way of a potential job later.
8. While on spring break, try out some pick up lines, but also remember you will need to start practicing effective interviewing skills. Free drinks, mug down on the beach, shameful story or antibiotics…and later trying to find gainful employment. All the same stuff really.
9. Obtain at least three letters of reference from faculty, internships supervisors, fellow students, part-time employers, activity advisors, etc.
10. Your school probably has recruiting weeks. Find out about them NOW!

That’s it. Just ten things to do. You can make it happen. Remember the jobs you are applying for had ten applicants in 2008. Last year they had forty. 2010…well you will be one among many. Be prepared.

Also bonus spring break advice: Don’t drink the punch. No glove equals no love. Mononucleosis and strep throat are a bitch.

“You’ve Lost Your Muchness.” Movie Review: Alice in Wonderland

You know you’ve been waiting for this remake of Alice in Wonderland in your Jack Skellington hoody, with your Corpse Bride socks, reading the Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy in your Beetlejuice inspired black and white striped armchair. We know, we’re Burtonites too. But as much as the claymation master has wowed us in the past, I was nervous for this movie.

Alice in Wonderland is a story we all grew up with. I’ve seen versions of the movies throughout my childhood with my favorite being the 1985 made for TV version with Sammy Davis Jr. as the Caterpillar who tap dances ‘You are old Father William.’ Everyone has a take on Alice. Even Woody Allen has his twisted version involving Mia Farrow and an acupuncturist. Being such a part of our culture, and especially the quarterlifer’s childhood, Alice is an icon. She inspires curiosity and whimsy- both fields that Burton is well acquainted with. Knowing that, I was still nervous of what he would do with one of my heroes. Remember how you felt before Charlie an the Chocolate Factory came out?

Turns out, Alice had a Quarterlife Crisis. No spoilers here you won’t get from reading any other review, but if you want to go in unknowing then consider yourself warned and go no further. Alice flees a marriage proposal and ends up in Wonderland, where everyone has been waiting for an Alice to save them from the terror the Red Queen. Most Wonderland residents don’t believe that she is the right Alice as she has changed so much. Alice, on the other hand, believes herself to be dreaming. Let’s see- a girl is on the path towards the life that is expected of her, takes a turn and ends up very confused and wondering about her identity. Sound familiar?

She quickly meets up with the Mad Hatter (take a moment to sigh at the awesomeness of Johnny Depp. I got tingles when he began to recite The Jabberwocky.) who is very sure she is the right Alice, but tells her “You’ve lost your muchness.” In a flash I knew that is what this is all about. A path we walk that becomes confused, unfulfilling, and unbearable is a symptom of losing our muchness as 20somethings. It’s incredibly hard to pinpoint what changes or how it changes, but in many ways, we lose our muchness.

Needless to say, Alice finds her muchness and manages to take her life where that muchness directs her. The story that gets her there is fairly straightforward and pits good against evil. This is my one true criticism of Tim Burton this time around. The books were intended for children and read as such. Even then, the characters present us a curious look at nonsense and madness. Burton’s version (written by Linda Woolverton of both Lion King and Beauty and the Beast fame) drastically scales down this depth of character for an audience of children. Rarely are his characters so black and white (though there are many many stripes). Our heroes often come from checkered pasts and our villains typically have reasons for their infamy. Here we don’t need to question which side we are pulling for and have no melancholy feelings towards the outcome. I suppose its hard to develop characters who have been developed for decades, but it would have been nice to feel a little more conflict in choosing our team. They are all mad, after all.

And are they ever mad! The acting all around was fantastic. Helena Bonham Carter plays her insane majesty with the perfection we knew she would. The Tweedles provide perfect comic relief, and Alan Rickman guides our way with the wisdom that only the Caterpillar could provide. Mia Wasikowska plays Alice to a tea (ha) and reminds us all that Alice was very comfortable in Wonderland the first time around. And then there’s Johnny. I’ll leave it to you to critique his performance- but keep an eye out for the Hatter Futterwacken Dance.

A technical note as well: skip the IMAX, and skip the 3D. Usually I’m an advocate for 3D movies as a fantastic throwback to the 50s. But Disney and other studios are becoming guilty of charging us more and giving us less. Up was a beautiful movie in 3D, and the depth just added to the richness of the animation. Here, we almost get classic 3D schtick with swords headed our direction and flying debris. Not worth the extra money nor the red indentation we got from the extra heavy IMAX glasses.

The quarterlife experience is so often about losing your muchness. We lose direction, we lose passion, we lose focus, we lose sanity…but the best people are mad, you know. This version of Alice in Wonderland reminds us that sometimes we lose our muchness and that it often takes a journey to get it back.

Alice: A Quarterlife Rolemodel

“Who are you”, said the Caterpillar.

Alice replied rather shyly, “I–I hardly know, sir, just at present– at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.”

This Spring Break, with Mr. Johnny Depp’s soon to be Oscar securing role in Mr. Tim Burton’s “Alice” I got to thinking about that long time fantasy character. Not Depp, Alice! I am totally 100% not gay. I mean Depp is cool and all that, but I am talking about Alice here. Okay, she is like 13 and I should not admit I was day dreaming about her, but I was seriously pondering her role in the big picture of the literary masterpiece and one of my favorite surreal Disney classics. Not to mention she just might be a pretty good role model for QL ladies.

Alice is the cute Victorian blonde bombshell that was the precursor to all dainty literary, movie or television English chica roles who lose their way only to find what they were really looking for was an altogether different way at looking at the world.

Ya, we know…the original author took some drugs, so did Alice, possibly had a thing for the Mad Hatter and do not get me on the whole mushrooms with “long stems.” By the way, what do you call a mushroom with a long stem…?

…A fun-guy! Get it? Fungi? Play on words…kind of thing…Ba da ba! Okay, not that good of a joke. Moving on…

This adventuresome Alice is a daydreamer, a fuss about rules, breaking them and a bit of a pain in the ass at times. Not unlike yourself…

And maybe or maybe not like the girls down the office hall in marketing, Alice (like you can) faces her challenges and shows real belly fire when she kicks ass behind the looking glass. That’s a mirror for those whose vocabulary is more text-ease than the Queen of Heart’s English. Like Alice…go ahead take a look in your mirror. Do you kick bootie on a daily basis? Are you all you can be ¼ life wise? Granted, Alice and you are not some she-Ninja video game icon, pop culture Lady Gaga or WNBA star. Alice is hip-heroine of times gone by when Xbox was a book. Pop culture was a hand drawn Disney cartoon. And the WNBA? Well no one still really cares about that.

You? You too can be one of the legions of QL hip heroines. And that is coming from me…a dude. I believe in ya! Go down the rabbit hole and follow the ways of Alice. Sum up…Have Alice-like Quarter Life Curiosity, Courage and Change.

First. I need to get this out there. Ladies, never, ever drink the punch. How Alice thought it was a good idea to swallow a potion with a note attached saying, “Drink Me” is beyond us. College frat guys would love a few more Alice types at their next kegger.

Despite this one tragic flaw, Alice has the three C’s:

Curiosity, Courage and Change.

Curiosity. Alice is as inquisitive about her new world as you all should be in the 20-somethings. What you think you know should be challenged, what you might have known will probably turn out to be somewhere in the gray areas of life. And what you could not have possibly even fathomed…well there is a wow factor when your curiosity about life pays off. Now some of you ladies might say this kind of trust in the world around you can lead to some sorrow and disappointment. Yet, on the other hand it can lead to great adventures through and on this side of your looking glass. And what is a little tragedy compared to the lessons learned leading to a triumph of QL proportions?

Word of caution. If you see a talking rabbit…do not follow it. You have eaten some bad sushi or the tequila worm. Curiosity sometimes kills the Cheshire cat.

Courage. This is one thing that Alice has deep inside. All she had to do was realize it. In the end she understands that she always possessed the mammaries to face the unknowns of life’s Wonderland. She went in headfirst into that rabbit hole. She faced the ridiculous, meaningless riddles of people and rules of society in her run in with the Mad Tea Party. (No reference to political activist group) Finally, she stood up for herself, played her cards right and denounced the trumped up charges against her from the Queen of Hearts.

Let’s put it into comparative context. Alice might be a metaphor for a recent graduate QL temp who jumps into a new job, has to put up with the fudge-faced policies and procedures of a messed up company. She is overworked, overlooked and underfed. The last part is because the firm’s partners always get the first pickens of Jason’s Deli sandwiches at meetings. She is usually stuck with the questionable tuna. At some point, the proverbial office crisis doo-doo hits the fan and some soul sucking mid-level manager blames her. Would you put up with this kind of crap? Alice would not and neither would you!

Change. You can start out one-way and end up on a completely new road to thinking, feeling and being. It is called in some therapy circles: maturity. Novel concept I know…little scary and way cool at the same time.

Alice starts as a child and then struggles with adolescent changes to become a mature young lady. Though it is with a dope smoking caterpillar and the tyrannical bitch ruler of Wonderland. Yet, who doesn’t have a few friends and a boss or mother-in-law like this? Alice shows us we must first get through the crazy parts of our youth (also counts for you twenty-thirty-something’s) in order to truly understand the wonders and responsibilities of adulthood.

Curiosity, Courage and Change.
Alice shows us that in coming full circle with our own growth takes curious thoughts and actions. She reveals courage is needed to face breaking and obeying some of life’s rules and to give meaning to “our” story…”your” image in the mirror. She gives us the sense that change is at the very core of us all and should be embraced as it comes with experience.

So there is my rant. Kind of a little advice column from a guy who once had a trip similar to Alice’s. Codeine and Red Bull. Whew!

A life abroad- Costa Rica

One of our writers, Alli Whalen, is teaching English in Costa Rica for a few months. Check back in for her updates on living a quarterlife abroad.

I’m sitting on a very comfortable couch with white, overstuffed cushions while eating slices of slippery, fresh mango. The lighting is fairly dim in the early evening, and the jazz music that plays in the background gives the room a very luxurious, classy feel. I am the only one here at the moment, and I am relishing my solitude with the music. It’s more than that though; a gecko ran up the bathroom wall earlier, and there is a bowl on the coffee table filled with local coral and sea shells. The words written on the bowl say it all: Costa Rica, which is where I find myself. What the heck?

Late last night, myself and my partner in all that is quarter-life landed in Liberia, a city that lies within the Guanacaste province of Costa Rica. After a very long day of terminal-jumping, altitude headaches and learning that one should always, always, always pack food to eat on the airplane in case they don’t give you anything, we were feeling pretty worn out. As the plane landed in our final destination, I was relieved but wearily awaiting the ordeal of customs lineups, security checks and lost luggage. How could Continental NOT have lost our luggage after three flights?

I’m glad to say I was wrong. As soon as we climbed down the stairs to the tarmac, the beautiful humidity of a balmy, summery night washed over me. I was delighted to have forgotten about open-air airports – no stuffy, recycled oxygen! And even more to celebrate: we breezed through customs and immigration within ten minutes. Not even the disturbing sight of my shadow – revealing a silhouette of humidity- frizzed hair that resembled a drowned clown wig – could get me down. I still had my doubts about the luggage, but lo and behold, it was calmly awaiting us, all three pieces sitting next to one another. Sheepishly, I grabbed my suitcase and hopped in the car that took us to our new home for the next two and a half months.

You may have guessed at what I’m doing here, which is volunteer-teaching the English language to the local communities in the city of Comunidad (an easy name to remember). Having taken an ESL teaching training course with United TESOL in Ottawa, I had finally made the first move in a process many a twenty-something has considered or experienced: teaching overseas.

A few years have gone by since my first Quarterlives article about the “McJob” – a basic job one is generally overqualified for and does not inspire one’s passion. Well, after recent months of not finding any job, “Mc” or otherwise, I got a little restless. Like so many others, I had toyed with the idea of teaching overseas, educating others and opening my mind to all sorts of new experiences and adventures. It takes guts, though, to hop on a plane and fly many cramped hours through the earth’s atmosphere to land in a place where nobody knows your name, let alone speaks your language. I’ve always wanted to travel more but have been wary of going it alone, far away from my loved ones, comfortable routines and, you know, hot showers and Pavarazzi pizza delivery. But I found myself at a point in my life where the idea of escaping the grey, bone-chilling winter with someone who makes overseas travel not so scary sounded pretty ideal.

A good a time as ever, right? I went through with it: the ultimate, quarterlifer fall-back plan has become my reality.
This brings us full-circle to my fruit-sticky hands mucking up the keyboard of my laptop and reggae Radiohead covers making me feel at home in a new place. For someone who was afraid to travel, I’m finding that I can’t wipe the smile off of my face, and that I’m curiously awaiting my first week of ESL teaching, starting next Monday. Change isn’t always easy, and I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing when I decided to go, but I’m counting all of the lucky pennies I ever picked up and feeling extremely grateful to be here. Wading into the ocean waters off of the Papagayo Peninsula and drinking a chocolate-banana smoothie to cool the intense heat beaming down on Comunidad, I felt a pretty fantastic realization happening: the world is large, and rather than feeling lost in it, I’ve found a surprisingly comfortable place in the role of traveler. So, balls to the wall! Onward and upward! Maybe I’ll change my tune next week when I’m trying to teach verb tense to a bunch of overheated 15-year olds, but for now I think the hardest part is over, and if I can do it, so can you. It’s better than sitting around and waiting for something to happen. Try it if you may find yourself in those old shoes of mine. If nothing else, come on down and pay me a visit; I’ll buy you a mango.
Until next week, pura vida!

Career Therapy: Getting professional help when the going gets tough

Intro: Deciding to get therapy

Have you ever considered getting professional help for your quarterlife crisis and general career confusion?  Maybe my personal experience will be helpful to you.  Recently, something at work triggered my search for a therapist who specializes in career counseling.  Partially for the sake of exploration for this blog, and partially because I really think it will be  helpful, I’ve started this “column” to document my experience with the counselor anonymously.

The other day, an event occurred at work that made me loathe my work environment more than usual.  It wasn’t so far from the usual things I deal with, but it was just a bad day that made me reevaluate my purpose at work and where I wanted to go with my career.  Typical stuff.  Granted, I’ve been going through the quarterlife crisis for months now.  In general, I’ve dealt with it quite well because of the resources at my disposal, including this blog, as well as a strong support network.  In any case, for reasons beyond disliking my job, I decided it was time to take real action.

Here’s how I got started.

A very close friend studies psychology and is a practicing therapist.  This friend suggested awhile ago, long before I seriously considered it, to reach out to a professional therapist for career help.  I didn’t take the advice too seriously at first because I thought therapy would be expensive.  When I reconsidered recently, the friend provided references.

I reached out to the therapist that was most highly recommended.  The therapist has a Psy.D. and has practiced for years, with one of her specializations in career guidance.  Again, I was worried about cost.  But here comes the big surprise.  It was news to me that therapy is covered by many health insurance plans.  In fact, after calling mine, it turns out that each session would cost me just $30.  Out-of-pocket, the sessions would have been $150+.  I don’t think I have to point out the obvious irony, but I will: My company’s healthcare plan is helping me figure out my next career steps.  It makes a lot of sense for companies to provide therapeutic support for their employees.  If this works out, it would theoretically make me a more productive worker.  Happily, I booked my first session with Dr. R, who was accommodating enough to schedule me for the next day.

Here’s a few suggestions on how you can get started.

If you’ve done career exploration on your own already, and you feel like you need someone else — a coach, therapist or counselor — to help you sort through all of it, I would encourage giving counseling a try.  Start by looking for a general therapist who specializes in career guidance and life transitions, or look for a specialized office dedicated to career counseling or coaching.  They should be able to provide references or statements from their past clients that will give you a better idea of their background and experience.  If you do not have a friend who can give you personal recommendations as in my case, definitely do your homework.  Compare your options carefully.

Next, if you are on a budget, check to see if your insurance covers it and what the co-pay is.  The therapist should be able to give you a general idea, but only your insurance company can give you a definite answer. Then, book your appointment and give your new counselor a try.  There is no promising that the relationship will work out, so make sure you are comfortable.  My therapist offered the option of a complimentary consultation session the first time.  See if this is the case in your situation.  Once you try it out and find the him/her to be a good fit, then decide whether or not you want this to be an ongoing relationship.

Lastly, I want to point out that going to a counselor/coach/therapist doesn’t mean your personal exploration ends.  Professional help is only a guiding force, and I realize the powers of change are within me and within me alone.

If you decide to give this a try, good luck!

Stay tuned…my next post will focus on the experience of my first session.

¼ Life Lingo: Vocabulary No One in the Quarter Life Should Be Without

Lingo: “Like, my total Melvin roomie dissed me and that’s after he mooched my Rb’s from the R2D2 and sexiled moi with his corner window cubicle countess von vagicula!”

Queen’s English translation: “My complete nerd roommate was very disrespectful after taking my Red Bulls from the fridge and locking me out while he had an overnight, female guest of questionable moral nature, you know the one…that bartender chick, from Hurricane Harry’s. Yea the one with the mermaid tattoo. Well, I don’t know if anything else is pierced. Why are you asking me, I am not the one who went trolling? Give the third degree to your other roommate. I am just writing an article for Quarter Lives here. Huh? I cannot hear ya. I have a funny habit of typing what I pick up audio wise and what I am saying out loud!

Well, did you use a rubber? Fudge, man. Go get a blood test. Huh? No I do not know if your HMO covers it. What? Yes, I am DVRing Man vs. Wild. Bear will be on tonight! Okay…sheesh…I have to type here. Go hooka and check your E-Trade account.”

Sorry about that. On with things…

Every generation has its traditions, history, people and places. Later these become fodder for late night comedians, history books and for their camp value. “Conan! We will miss you!) Yet in such self-contained micro-cultural universes, there arise unique words, slang and general sets of vernacular usage better known as “lingo”. It’s possible to hold an entire conversation between two fellow generationals where an outsider would be totally clueless. And you can keep that up in your ¼ life at the office, at home, at a party, gym, homecoming, texting session and in the bedroom…with a simple list of what is hot and not vocab.

Although dialect peculiarities occur from person to person, culture to nation, etc, there is a pretty good chance that most ¼ life tongue (pierced or otherwise) can be used to get you by in any institution. The breath and span of this vocab speak can include: new words, strange combinations of clichés, flavor of the month comedy skits from Saturday Night Live and one particularly useful and fascinating part of the Quarter Life vocabulary – the acronym. This little handy dandy device is very popular. If a phrase, idea or concept can be crammed into letters with dots…we will use it.

Here is just a small sampling of words and phrases used today. Knowing them could make the difference between making you a fresh or fab fool. You probably get the gist of what those mean…

154 – Police code for underage drinking. Okay you may not need this much, but they are still IDing you at the grocery store.
Addi-paddi – Extreme attitude.
Club-a-saurus – A clueless first timer to a rave.
All over it – To have things in control.
Alpha Tech – The male or female who “rules” the tech help desk.
B-POO – Bitter, Party Of One. “Your table is ready. Bitter, Party of One!”
Bad Juju – Negative Karma man!
Badassical – Beyond the best thing ever!
Bag Monsters – The creature which sneaks up and pulls you to bed against your will.
Samsonite – Emotional issues ex. “She has more baggage than an airport!”
Bio-hazard – That nasty encrusting film on your cell phone and computer keyboard.
Body Nazis – Personal trainers, HMOs and that one chick or dude you walk by in the hall around noon who took their lunch hour to work out. Damn! I hate those people!
Cash Cow – ATM “I need to milk the cash cow before we go out.”
Credit Cops – Those never-ending phone calls from credit cards, your cell phone company and student loan officers.
Crushing – Having a little puppy love for someone.
Cubicle-cest – Dating a person from workplace.
D&D – Doritos and Dew…or a quick, snack filled breakfast or conference call break.
Damaged Goods – The recently dumped who has gone totally insane since then. Not enough meds in the world to help this one.
Damien – Mean or evil person.
Diss – To disrespect or blow off.
Dot slash – Indicating a conversation is over or the decision is final.
Drama – Dating two or more people at the same time.
Fab & Fresh – Fabulous and highly motivated newbie.
Fifteen Minute Rule – Rule allowing former college students to leave a class when professor is late fifteen minutes. Same goes for any meeting, podcast, web chat, date or bar tab.
Frisbee – The sport or the day old pizza.
Frontload – To eat or drink before the actual meal or party.
Frumping – To be dressed in sweats and anything you would wear during a hangover, period, power point meeting presentation or your past academic finals.
G2G – Gots To Go.
GAFF – Give A Flying #$%!…fudge.
H.S.I. – Has Some Issues – phrase used to describe someone your ex.
Hadda – Had to do something.
Handy-dandy – 1. useful 2. cute boy.
Hibernator – Kind of like a short time co-worker. You know the check-out and waiting for their last day or the pink slip. This is a new twist. This person sits on their job, seeks no promotion, works only enough not to get fired, never does or says anything…because work might get him or her noticed and then fired.
Horizontal Engineering – napping.
I for one welcome our new ‘insert word’ overlords – Phrase exhibiting displeasure at the new leadership. Political. Group Project Leader. New Boss. Etc.
Interactive – Touchy, feely person.
JAFO – A bad dude. Jack Ass Fudge Off.
Keep digging, Watson – Not quite there genius.
Kool-aide – Cheap well drinks or anyone who follows the latest fad, trend or brainwashed fashion. See electoral college, GOP or ACORN.
Langerrhea – Diarrhea of the mouth…”He just kept talking and talking…”
Like – No meaning, conversation filler ex. “He was like, I mean, like so super ticked off that I did not call.”
Lollipop – Easy, no problem, not difficult.
M.P.A. – Mysterious Party Accident – unexplained events occurring while partying.
MacGyver – Ability to accomplish anything. “Damn! What can that girl not do?”
Mackable – Yummy.
Mackadocious – Super yummy. Sexually, physically, cute-wise or just that warm fuzzy feeling you get from a grilled cheese sandwich.
Mouse potato – To spend too much time on the computer.
Mucho – Added to give any matter greater importance.
Mugging down – Anything before dry humping.
Munchapoloozas – Consuming gross amounts of food.
My bad – Implying fault while apologizing ex. “Dude. Who broke the blender?” – “Sorry, my bad.”
Mythological – Someone who is just so godly as to make you want to puke…it is as if their farts would smell like warm cinnamon buns!
Nada – nothing.
Naughty Kitty – Bad rep.
Negative Ghostrider – 80’s movie “Top Gun” line. No go proposition.
Neighbro – The handy man boy neighbor who will do anything for you despite having zilch chances at ever getting some.
Niccin’ – Nicotine fit.
Nilla – Plain or lacking excitement.
Off like a prom dress in May – Horny.
Paint job – Spray tan or new tattoo ink…and heaven forbid henna!
Playing House – A dating couple who practically live together.
Prep Snooze – The act of sleeping off a big night or in preparation for one.
Tempitute – Never gonna be hired permanent type. Advice: Invite he/she for drinks and the salsa bar during next week’s hump day office get together. Mug down or worse…or better. Be callous and move on with life.
Prozac Shot – Cookie dough.
Raccoon – One of your sisters crying uncontrollably making her make up rung and thus looking like the masked rodent.
Ragamuffin – Untrimmed…ANYWHERE!
Ragu-boy-r-dee – Your period or in rare cases your boyfriend who does not mind trolling for vampires while you are entertaining guests like Aunt Flow.
Rainbow yawn – The long, arcing multi-colored puke of a good night, but bad morning.
Rents – Parents.
Rowzers – Exclamation of fear or distress.
Same diff – Same thing…who cares?
Sargasm – To fake it.
Sexiled – Kicked out of your place while your roomie has a “friend” over.
Shacking – Spending the night at your “friends.” See also sexiled.
Shatnerian – To be overly dramatic – refers to the acting style of William Shatner – aka Captain Kirk.
Splenda – Laying it on a bit thick sugar, fun or pleasant size.
T.C.G. – The Computer Guy in the computing center…ergo the pimple faced Warcraft player who landed a 6 figure job, has total employment security and who you sexually shunned. Or if you are the TCG…good for you!
-Geek!
Uber – Beyond awesome…UBER AWESOME!
Umpteen – Infinite or great in number.
Velveeta – Cheesy.
Verbally Disembowel – Worse than any throw down, nail scratching, hair pulling bitch fest. It is when your words do such proper….dare we say…awesome damage as to leave your victim worse off than an actually disemboweling by a six foot medieval bastard sword could have!
Waboosh – Dat’s all messed!
Walk of shame – Being seen sneaking out of anyone’s place after a mistaken “sleepover”
Walkman – Any old cell phone or media techie player.
Wang Chung – Old.
X-File – The old photo album of exs, college days, prom, etc. Which you either need to turn over to mum for storage or burn in some sort of exorcism ritual.
Zombied – To pull an all-nighter for studying, MS certification, TPS reports, drinking, Facebooking, etc.

There that is enough for now. It’s not like your sound bite prone ¼ life brain could absorb more than this. Screen capture the words and send them to an Excel spreadsheet and vow to use one new word a day til someone notices how hip you are, laughs at ya or with you, or is stunned by your total lack of moral character. Don’t blame me or this website…I wish I could make this shit up.

Grinds My Gears! I

Peter Griffin is just another evolutionary development of the “Honeymooners” Ralph Kramden to decades later Homer Simpson. Going on its own decade, Griffin and “Family Guy” continue to escalate in popularity and influence. I foresee a time after George Clooney’s ascent to power as President, we shall have Peter Griffin as the eventual holographic leader of the Free World. Well, by that time…I imagine even the free parts will be subjugated by our insectoid overlords.

While the future era is unknown, the present is what counts. “Family Guy” knows its social stuff and so does the head of its so called family.

Peter used to have a small segment on Quahog’s local news channel. He got to rant and rave about what he found a proverbial pain in the ass. And now so do I…

You know what really grinds my gears?

Chicks without panties. Call me a man of convenience. But I don’t eat in truck stops, I pee standing up and I like my ladies to wear underwear. Plus, I already carry around antibacterial lotion. I do not need to carry a roll of paper towels and a bottle of Windex to use before I sit down on any chair.

Okay…biting the hand which feeds me. I remember the day when, “Then the broccoli must die!” It grinds my gears, how Seth MacFarlane’s “Family Guy” has turned maniacal, world dominating, evil Stewie into a pre-puberty pedophile and diaper wearing fan of canine bestiality with the dog Brian.

Hoodies. What are we all robbing 7-Elevens?

Vampires. True, they are the greatest horror characters of all time. But, no…Hollywood takes 90210, the Kardasians, Miley Cyrus and Nickelodeon to destroy Bram Stoker’s masterpiece. Except for the chick in Underworld. She was hot!

No one to blame but yourselves ¼ life peeps! The Biggest Loser versus Iron Chef. The idea of fattening up America and then capping them with a shame-fest into losing weight? Clap. Clap. Clap. Capitalism at its finest!

Quarter Lifers! Stop the madness in our generation. Tattoo art. I love that your name is Rosenfeld and you have a Polynesian tribal armband. Ladies, I love the butterfly on your left boob. Sad facts. Your tribal lexicon was needled by a guy who barely understands English let alone New Zealand dialects. You think your totem says “peace.” It probably means “Donde esta el bano?” And girls, it is cute, pink, and reminds you of Cancun. But, when you are a granny, your boobs looking like a billiard ball hanging in a tube sock…that butterfly will stretch out to look like a Jurassic pterodactyl.

Hand sanitizer. Okay. I just mentioned it. But, have we not moved on as a species to be able to wash our hands correctly? The answer is no. If you have ever been in an LAX airport men’s bathroom after a flight from Singapore has just arrived. You know how gross humans are.

Dollar menus. Just for the simple fact we might all be living off them soon.

February. Yep the whole damn month. Just pisses me off. The only thing that ever occurred of any value during this month is the strange occurrence of Mardi Gras. Has to do something with the Catholic Lent calendar being based on the lunar cycle. Come on…the month is so frigging lame they actually take off days from it every four years.

¼ Lifers having to have less while paying for more. You have heard it, “Lighter Portions or Sensible Dishes.” Sure TGIF we get it. Smaller plate, same or higher price, but YOU are doing ME a favor calorie wise. You’ve seen it. I just got a new jug of laundry soap. It’s “concentrated” now. Meaning you pay lots for way less and all in the name of eco-friendliness. What was most insulting was the label. “20% more than the 80 oz bottle!” Yes, this is true. I did get a 100 oz bottle. They were simply relaying a fact of volume measurements. None of it was for free. You’ve tasted it. Next time you put a Lean Cuisine in the microwave, check out the portion size. Not 10 oz, not 9 oz…maybe 8.75 ouches. It is the whole idea of taking one peanut out of the South West airlines peanut pack and the company saves $120,000 per year. Course they do not charge you $30 for each bag of luggage.

Bonus!

Quarter lifers are going to deal with the fiscal idea or sense of entitlement bailout. A bailout implies the boat is sinking and when you stop bailing, ploop, gurgle, bubble…cue Celine and the theme from “Titanic.” Yes, it was Titanic reference…but timely since Mr. Cameron just beat out his previous box office juggernaut cash wise. A least “Avatar” can have a sequel. We all went into the theatre in December 1997 knowing the end of that romantic cinematic abortion. And like our current world’s economy…it really grinds my gears the idea pushed on us…if we bail enough we might be able to stop the sinking of the “unsinkable” ship. And add insult to injury we still have to deal with the bubble of babies named Jack and Kate after the Titanic characters.

Soccer Mom Wanna-be?

For personnel in higher education there has been a recent phenomenon of young undergrad females not going on to their freshman or senior dreams, first marketing cubicle job, grad school or relying, as so many, on moving back with Mom and Dad ’til things get better employment wise. Looks like Dad’s rumpus or Mother’s reading room are safe for now.

What has been noticed by career and behavioral counselors is a spike in young ladies choosing to seek a mate immediately and pop out kids. Ergo, going for the soccer mom ASAP. Some have suggested this new trend has to do with the war mother demographic…higher numbers in the military have always equaled more war brides. I am sure a fifteen year high in teenage pregnancies also has a factor. But, mostly as a higher ed type myself…it is the economy stupid.

The unknown, fear of jobless years, no 401K, health care either coming or going…and general lack of confidence in hope…well it might just be natural to think domestic engineering as a good fall back. Hell, I am all for good mothers for our kids. Wish we had more. But, I also never wish to see young coed grads dissing themselves and the world of opportunities before them.

Do they want to be a fictional character? Finding that being a real “soccer mom” is about as easy as finding Elvis picking up Bigfoot hitchhikers in his UFO. It just ain’t gonna happen! The term soccer mom started in the mid 1990’s with more and more women entering the workforce and trying to subsequently balance professional and maternal responsibilities.

When added to the growing generation of spoiled brats, the myth was born of a super, well kept, organized, PTA attending, check, credit card balancing, relying off the man and da Man, mother of 2.5 kids…that at the end of the day became an exhausted, frazzled, short on time and dinner on the go…go-go girl. She could do everything! At least on car commercials.

So if you do want to be such…here is what you will need!

1. SUV, wagon, or minivan. A sedan can work in a pinch, but only a Volvo or Audi. Sorry those are the rules.
2. Have a child involved in some sport that requires a great amount of equipment, red fruit drink and mud. Oh, and the kid has to be allergic to red dye #5. Sends him or her into a bi-polar fit.
3. Before you say “I do” realize it is just a starter marriage.
4. Wear skinny jeans only your imaginary daughter and waistline should put on.
5. Own at least one Rachel Ray cookbook.
6. Have at least one toddler with a sippy cup to spill.
7. Member of or aspiring membership to the Junior League.
8. Perfect hair.
9. Give up…at least for the next 15 years…all of your professional dreams.
10. A renewal of childhood affections with Happy Meals.
11. Platinum band with tri-set diamond engagement ring. Total karat weight at least 1.5.
12. Have a complete hysterectomy, be menopausal or have your period stop altogether.
13. Be thin.
14. Always stay thin.
15. Chase after the dreams of your other college friends.
16. Lovely blue dress suit or business casual pants suit…you never wear.
17. Be the designated driver for the rest of your life.
18. Use the pregnancy parking spaces way after you had the babies…probably until they are six or older.
19. Kids born potty trained.
20. Abstain from sex ever again…that is how you got into the kid situation.
21. Have AAA or a need to join AA.
22. Get a dog – preferably a Lab, Golden retriever or Saint Bernard. This is a good thing for the image, but not so much for the pooch that will need more walks than you have time for.
23. Be the neighborhood mini-bus for all your kids’ play friends.
24. Live a lie and keep up with the Jones.
25. Your FaceBook page will need to be purged of just about every photo you ever put up.

In other words…you might be asking for the impossible for yourself, your family, your world. You might want to think of it this way…be careful for what you wish for. Just be you and the quarter life wonder of a hip-heroine you already are.

Yes, there are worries about the economic times ahead. Jobs, money, insurance, (a 20’s kid realistically worrying about retirement), student loan payments, careers, pushing out 7 lbs. of human into a scary world….yep…lots to think about. But, no need to jump to conclusions or rash decisions. You went to college, or you put in your time for a career…and exploration of careers…a journey to find out who you are and what this big bad, awesome world is all about.

Just say no to the soccer ball…at least for now. When you do want to put a soccer ball sized bulge in your tummy area…Bend it like Beckham.

Guitar Zero

So, I feel like I am letting my generation down by not being able to play Guitar Hero. Whereas all of my friends – from actual musicians to those who wouldn’t know a beat if it bit them on the ass are able to pick up that Mattelish play axe and wail or fail, I just can’t even bring myself to participate.

When it first came out in 2005, I didn’t hold any contempt for it. In fact, I thought it was kind of an interesting idea. I mean, who doesn’t want to feel like a rock star? Besides, I was really feeling distanced from the video game genre of entertainment – I’m not a Lord of the Rings dork so I don’t like World of Warcraft and I am not suppressing a violent streak so I’m not into Call of Duty, either – so, the fact that anything from that direction interested me was kind of appealing in its own way.

I was at the mall and I saw it for sale in a shop window and decided to see what it was all about. So, I went to one of those game stores that, according to my sister, always have a particular aroma of teenage boy body odor to see what this thing was all about. I don’t know why, but previous to seeing it, I had thought it would be more like a self-corrective guitar-guitar. Like, you’d have a really crummy guitar that was hooked to the game some way, and you’d play with the song. If you’d mess up, it would tell you where and you’d fix it. Instead, this looked more like a musical version of those hand-held electronic memory games called Simon that were popular in the 1980s.

Essentially, that’s what it is. I decided then that it wasn’t for me. Not so much because I was terrible at Simon (which I really, really was – I get nervous!), but more so because I couldn’t see myself ever being happy holding that little plastic guitar. It seemed to cross the line from being a fake guitar player to just being a fake. To me, this sort of make-believe says something in my head said, “Oh, this is for little kids – not adult kids like me.” So, I went ahead and forgot about it for a little bit.

Fast-forward some years, and I can’t forget about it. It’s at every, single social function I go to – especially if there are men there. It was even at my conservative, older boss’ Christmas party last year. There’s no escaping it.

It never starts out that way. There’s always this period at the beginning of the social function where people are talking and eating and drinking and interacting with one and other. Then, by about beer number four one guy will say something like, “Yeah, man, you know what I am really addicted to? Guitar Hero! I know, weird right?”

It’s not weird. It’s common. I know this because then the other men in the group will all start talking about it, too. Then when they are buzzing about it, someone will mention that they have never played Guitar Hero, and it’s on. Party’s over; Guitar Hero’s on.

Eventually, everyone has to be huddled around the game, or you’re that one weirdo that’s hanging out in the living room while everyone else is crammed into the den. When this happens to me, I try and stay as spectator-like as possible. However, there’s something about the adrenaline rush that “playing” metal can give to guys in their late twenties and early thirties (I’m on the cusp myself), and they want everyone to try it. Maybe it’s because guys in this age group are old enough to remember when video games were really lame, so there’s still some fascination factor just with the technology. I’m not really sure.

It is annoying, though – - and a little hard to escape.

Guitar Hero Head: C’mon. It’s a lot of fun and it’s not hard.

Me: No, thanks.

GHH: No one will laugh at you if you are bad! We’ll set it on easy.

M: No, let someone else have a turn.

GHH: C’mon, you have got to play this game! Just try it!

You know, it reminds me of those after-school specials where the kid is walking home from school and her friend invites her over and everything’s copacetic at first but then – WHAM! Drugs show up and the kid has to use every excuse in the book not to participate because her friends lay the peer pressure on her like a ton of bricks. I’ve never felt that same pressure when people actually offered me drugs, but I definitely feel it every time that little plastic guitar comes out. However, I think in that after school special, the kid actually runs out of the house and all the way home eventually. She tells her mom and guidance counselor and the drug-pushing children end up going to a special school for troubled youth. That’s not really an option for me, so I just awkwardly refuse until the Guitar Hero pusher remembers how much he likes playing Guitar Hero and decides to take another turn instead of bothering me.

It leads to all sorts of misconceptions, too. Since I have refused to play, I’ve heard everything about myself from, “Oh, Kemp’s really shy,” to, “Oh, Kemp doesn’t really like music.” Whoa – what? Who are they talking about? It’s like my refusal to play Guitar Hero has put me and my peers on such a different footing that they can’t see any of the real things about me. It’s a little jarring and a lot lame, and it makes me feel like an outcast to some extent. Like, I am worse than a traitor because at least traitors tend to understand what they are railing against.

There are some people who will actively argue with me the positives of Guitar Hero. One argument that I hear – often – is that it helps kids to be exposed to some music that maybe otherwise they wouldn’t have heard. Well, I think that’s a little bit false. Kids today would have heard Van Halen . . . on the oldies station. This way, though, they are hearing it, and it seems new. So, people my age can feel like their music is still young person music. So, there’s an indoctrination of youth with hair bands. (Which, by the way, I like some hair bands – I’m not a total defector.) I used to hope this Guitar Hero phase would pass quickly, but because of this I’m not holding my breath. You don’t even want to get me started on Rock Band.

Test change.

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