Out of Spec

Graduation... so close, and yet...

Today is Friday, April 29, 2005. I have one week of class left. I have next week and one day of graded assignments. My graduation day is two weeks from tomorrow. And now, the time seems to drag from second to second...

It's not that I am in a hurry to graduate. Not having a job means I'll be moving back home, anal-izing the want ads, and generally being a nuisance. And I guess that's ok, too, I just want more out of life than that.

I gave a wonderful, successful portfolio presentation today. Despite the lack of reflection paper, and no comments on my extra-curriculars (sorry Eye Contact), everything else was pretty spot-on. I was slightly nervous, so I spoke a little too quickly (and I am still a bit harried, typing a little faster than necessary), but it went well.

The future question still lingering, I am prepared take on the real world, with all of its glories and homeless people.

The Future (A Prelude)

“Senior Seminar with Phil Rostek is kind of like putting a slice of ham in the toaster. You can kind of see it happening. So you try it. And it wasn’t a bad idea, but even after you’ve done it, you’re not quite sure why you thought of it in the first place.”
—Me

So I’m supposed to be writing a “Roles and Goals” paper for Senior Seminar right now. I batted around a few ideas, a few concepts, but none of them stuck. So instead of just jumping into the paper, like I normally would, I wanted to think a little bit about what the paper should contain. According to Phil, “goals” are your short-term aspirations, what you want to do, and “roles” are what you like. That’s all well and good, but being a senior in college, I have so many questions of my own that the questions of goals and roles just add to that long list. One of our classes with Phil was about “preludes,” and he went crazy talking about prelude this and prelude that, and even brought in some Chopin preludes to play for us in class. Each song elicited a distinct emotion, though only one or two minutes long. I decided to use this idea of a “prelude” in order to jump-start my paper, and maybe give some other people some insight about what being a senior can be like.

Prelude, noun:
a) A piece or movement that serves as an introduction to another section or composition and establishes the key, such as one that precedes a fugue, opens a suite, or precedes a church service.
b) A similar but independent composition for the piano.
c) The overture to an oratorio, opera, or act of an opera.
d) A short composition of the 15th and early 16th centuries written in a free style, usually for keyboard.

That’s the definition 2 from dictionary.com. I think a combination of definitions a and d are most appropriate for me. This essay is serving as an introduction to another composition, and will be written in a free style. I don’t mean to overextend a metaphor, but I believe it’s an appropriate leap-off point for me to start this exploration.

In Senior Sem two weeks ago, we had to bring a statement to class, a statement by which we live our life. The statement I chose was appropriate at the time for a specific reason. I said, “All too often, the difficult thing to do and the right thing to do are one in the same.” That sentence is still appropriate for me, but now for a whole new reason. Today is April 13, 2005. I graduate on May 14, just one month and one day away. I have submitted my résumé to at least 12 companies, possibly more, and have heard little back. Most of the companies I contact say, “Your résumé is on file, and we’ll call you as soon as a position comes open that meets your qualifications.” Nothing could be more depressing. One company has called me for an interview. That interview is next week—most specifically, April 21. I’ll take 66 South to the turnpike, and then head east to the Willow Hill exit. It’s nearly a three hour trip. Rather than detail my feelings towards this company and that interview here (since this blog is a quick Google search away), I want to express my greater fears and concerns for my future.

So what if I’m only offered one job. The easy thing to do is to take the job, and the difficult thing is to refuse it. The difficult thing and the right thing are often the same, but that axiom fails in this situation. If I’m only offered one job, that could still be the opportunity of a life time. Right now, my biggest fear is making the wrong decision. I know that I’m ready to move out of my parents’ house, rent an apartment, and live on my own. I’ve never felt more ready before in my life. Moving into an apartment, however, involves signing a lease. If I take a job that isn’t right for me, simply because it’s the only one offered, I’m locked in to that job simply because I can’t afford to move back. If I don’t take that job, though, and none of the other offers are any better—or worse, I don’t get any offers at all—then I’m stuck living with my parents for another dozen plus months. I love my parents very much, and I don’t mind living with them at all, but I cannot fathom sitting at home and doing nothing with myself. As much as I enjoyed breaks, for some reason, this year the breaks seemed longer. The more time I spent at home, idle, doing nothing, the less I felt like a valuable, productive member of society. This is the first year that I ever wanted to go back to school, wanted a break to be over. As recently as last fall, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be in the working world. The closer I get to graduation, the more I know that I’m ready for a career.

I love science. It’s one of my passions in life. I must say, though, if I were a millionaire, I don’t know if I would do science. An undergraduate degree in chemistry (or biochemistry, for me) has so many different far-reaching arms that picking a field and going with it has proven quite a challenge for me. In graduate school, a chemist chooses an area of specialty and graduates with a highly specialized chemical degree. I would love to have a focus like this. Graduate school giving me focus is probably just what I need for me to say, “if I were a millionaire, I would still do chemistry.” My parents may harp on me about graduate school, but I know this. If I went to graduate school and picked a focus, then wound up not liking what I picked, I would be screwed for the rest of my life. I would have spent six years earning a Ph.D. for something I didn’t want to do. One of the many reasons why I did not go to graduate school straight out of college.

My parents’ other big fear is the idea that if I don’t go to graduate school now, I’ll never go. If I don’t go to graduate school ever, it will be for a really good reason. If I find a job that I absolutely love, and they cannot stand to lose me, and I don’t want to leave, then and only then will the idea of graduate school completely leave my mind. My mother, bless her heart, is afraid that I’ll meet someone, settle down, and have a family in place of graduate school. I scoff at this idea now, of course, though it perhaps is something I should keep in mind. What do I want out of life? What is my “role”? By answering that question, only then will I know if graduate school is something I want, not just something my parents want.

I really have to make the right decision. The decisions I make now will affect the rest of my life. These questions are the main reason why a “goals and roles” paper is so difficult for me to write right now. I have goals, and I have roles, but… I just don’t know where they belong right now.

California, Part 2: Flights and Sights

Finally, I’ve remembered to blog about my California trip. Looking over my home page just reminded me that I never finished up my story. Well, here’s the middle of it… I know I’m long-winded enough to make this last for two more entries. Part 2 is Los Angeles, Part 3 is San Diego. I may have Part 4: Aftermath, but I haven’t really decided yet. Read on…

I woke up on Thursday, March 10 at 8:00AM. We were meeting at Seton Hill at 11, so I had to get up and get in gear. I had packed all my stuff the previous night so I could just jump out of bed and get going. Rosalee and I hit the road, and we hit it hard. I-99 South to 22 West, a route I now know well. The old girl was actually doing well. I was making good time at Ebensburg, so I stopped and got a McGridles and some apple juice at the McDonald’s there. I hit Greensburg after a normal duration trip, about one and three-quarters hours, so it wasn’t quite ten o’clock yet. I stopped and filled up my gas tank, because the weather was still quite cold, and I didn’t want my car to sit in the parking lot with only half a tank of gas. She doesn’t cope well with cold and moisture.

I ran up to my dorm room, dropped off some laundry, then parked my car and lugged my luggage. The three other girls and I piled into our taxi (sarcasm) and were chauffeured to the Pittsburgh airport. The flight was a trip, no pun intended. After a plane switch in Atlanta, GA, and a layover in Dallas, TX, and seven hours in the air, we finally landed in LAX. It was late when we finally touched down, so Nicole and I went to our hotel.

Our hotel… now that place was crazy. It was called the “Adventurers All Suites Resort.” Believe me, it’s a far bigger dive than it sounds. It was in the farthest south part of Inglewood, California, which I’m told is just one step above Compton in the “California Quality” scale. After flagging down our shuttle driver, we stepped into the world that was the Adventurers All Suites. The lobby/gift shop looked like it was straight out of a Tarantino flick (most specifically, Jackie Brown). There, my partner in crime, Nicole Lock, and I received our “Passport to Savings”—a kitchy little coupon book full of the most inane things. Free birthday cake, free champagne punch, and of course, free continental breakfast. When we exited the lobby, we were back outside, in the lounge/bar/pool area of the hotel. Up one flight of stairs to the second floor, and then we entered…the tackiest hotel room… on the face of this planet. Sure, there was a TV with free Cinemax and two bedrooms. Sure, we had a closet, a bathroom, and an air conditioner. We also had the tackiest bed coverings and paintings this side of the Mexican border. I wasn’t sure which I was more disturbed by—the carpeting on the floor or the cigarette hole in my blanket. Let me tell you, this was a first class establishment. I took four or five photos of this tacky place. I would like to say, however, that the bathroom was cleaner than some OCD person’s house.

The time change, though, was terrible. I’m a responsible college student, and I normally go to bed around midnight/one, two at the very latest. After a three-hour time difference, however, it was like going to bed at nine/ten. Things just start to pick up at those hours, and I was already beat. So our first night at the hotel, we went straight to sleep.

My cell phone rang at six the next morning. I answered it, and the person on the other end was from Merck, a company to whom I’d applied for an internship position this summer. Sensing the sleep in my voice, the woman asked, “Is this a bad time?” I asked her what time it actually was, and she said it was nine-thirty. I said, “Well, I’m in California, so it’s about six thirty here.” She apologized and said she’d call back later.

I was quickly awake, however, since in Pennsylvania I can rarely sleep past ten thirty/eleven. Nicole and I were planning on sight seeing that day, especially the beach, so I put my beach wear on under my crop pants and shirt. I was wearing my brand new sandals. Soon, we were ready to go. We went down the stairs to the restaurant (Grade “A” establishment, according to the California Board of Health) and got our free continental breakfast—a muffin and a cup of coffee. That’s all. Granted, it was the best damn blueberry muffin I’d ever eaten in my entire life—but it was still just a muffin. It was also a Friday of Lent.

So Nicole and I started to walk. We walked and walked and walked up La Brea, one of the main roads of Los Angeles. Eventually (after about an hour), we stopped and got a map. Well… we were going to the La Brea Tar Pits (about the center of the map), and we were so far south we weren’t even on the map yet. Instead of walking the long distance, we did the smart thing and grabbed the metro. We rerouted our trip, deciding to go to Hollywood Boulevard first to see Grauman’s Chinese Theater and the Hollywood Walk of Fame. I took a picture of Miles Davis’ star and Sean Connery’s hand and feet prints. Nicole and I also got our pictures taken with Batman. I called my dad and had him check out the webpage, and he found me on Grauman’s webcam and took a screen capture. Pretty cool place.

We walked from Grauman’s to the La Brea Tar Pits (about an hour). We stopped at a fake Hardee’s, I got some fish and chips (Lent), and then continued on to the Tar Pits. Not much to see there, really. I wanted to go into the museum, but Nicole wasn’t interested. It was a beautiful day, though, and there were hummingbirds going crazy at the trees. There were also seagulls lining the buildings, but those aren’t nearly as beautiful. Finally, from there, we caught the shuttle to Santa Monica Beach.

Tune in next time to hear about Beaches, Buses, and Baysides

FiREFOX'd!

So those of you who have visited my blog (insert cricket chirps here) may have noticed something. If you run with Windows Internet Explorer (a terrible web browser), you haven’t observed anything abnormal. If you run with Safari (for Mac), easy sailing. But for those blessed few of you that use Firefox, you have definitely come across a problem.

Rather than use extended entry, as I am tempted, allow me to tell you my saga full-fledged style. Many months ago, Dr. Jerz pointed out to me that my blog text was showing up white. Naïve little IE user me noticed no problems, so I didn’t even know how to begin to fix the problem. One day it occurred to me that my blog’s subtitle “Banter from college students can’t be all bad”, was white (which used the tag font color=”white”). So, I went in, un-fonted it (/font), and the main page looked fine. I also went into the Main Archive index and un-fonted my “Mindful Idle” title on all the archive pages. I didn’t know if it was fixed, because I couldn’t tell there was a problem in the first place.

Well, Friday morning I downloaded Firefox. I was too busy playing with it, and it made me late to Inorganic chemistry. But anyway, yesterday I posted “Knitastic”, about my knitting projects, and noticed that the extended entry page was still white. This problem only occurs in Firefox.

So, after a frustrating search session, with no good answers, I have no idea how to fix the problem…. I know where the exact problem is, too. After the “Mindful Idle” in the extended entry, there’s no un-font (/font) after the white text. But I can’t find anywhere else to fix it. I don’t know where they pull the html from for extended entry. So instead…

I’m going to update Mindful Idle, make her 2.0, and she’ll be pretty again.

Oh, the excitement!

Don’t get me wrong… I love Firefox. Which is why I’m re-vamping my website so everyone who loves Firefox can see everything I write! Yay! So, download Firefox. And, soon, you’ll be able to read my blog.

Knitastic

Regardless of the fact that I haven’t touched this blog in many, many weeks, I am here celebrating a personal victory… a hat! Yes, that’s right. My first finished knitting project that is actually useful. I’ve done knitting swatches, knitting practice… and now, a completed work.

The idea for a hat was not originally mine. Karissa, my fellow friend in stitch, told me how quick and easy it was to make a hat. She generously photocopied sections out of her knitting book so I could give it a stab. I didn’t really think about it until my cousin’s birthday came around. My wonderful cousin, nine months older than me, is an artist. She loves all sorts of eclectic things—jewelry, clothing, purses, and yes, hats. Last night, when I was making plans to go out for her birthday (India Garden), I got impulsive. What else to get Jenn but a hand-knitted hat? So without too much thought, I jumped in my car and drove to the Jo Ann’s super store. I was quite easily distracted, but luckily, I kept my eye on the prize. I found some yarn and some large plastic needles, purchased, and came back. I diligently cast on 54 stitches on my size 11 needles, then went to town.

It was originally supposed to be a “ribbed” hat, with distinct knit and purl sections… but apparently I can’t count to four. No matter. Ribbing went out the window, and it turned into a beautiful mish-mash of knit and purl. The yarn I chose was Lion brand Homespun yarn… the most forgiving yarn I’ve ever worked with. Mistakes? There ain’t no stinking mistakes in this hat. It’s perfect.

I worked on it for about two hours last night, with many distractions, and got it about half done. I brought it to Jenn to show her the progress, and she really liked it. Today, after brunch, I came up to my room and finished the hat. Only took me about an hour and a half. After finishing it, I was so excited that I ran out of my room in hopes of someone to show it to. Someone with whom I am modestly acquainted happened to be walking past at that exact moment, and I exuberantly showed her my beautiful masterpiece. Later in the day, I showed the hat to Miss Kariss, and she loved it almost as much as I do. She even used her digital camera to take a picture of it for me.

So there’s my beautiful hat, on top of Karissa’s desk lamp, complete with Van Gogh’s Starry Night in the background. If I can actually finish my scarf, it’ll be a miracle… it’s such slow going, doing a five-foot scarf on size seven needles. I can’t dedicate myself to just that, because it gets really boring…especially because it’s sockinette (knit one row, purl one row, knit one row… blah). Some day, scarf. I’ll have it done by the time the weather gets cold again… then I can do a hat in like, three hours. Even though this kind of hat doesn’t really look good on me, I think maybe it would if it matched a scarf.

What am I going to do with the rest of the yarn? That’s a very good question. You see, there’s a ton of this homespun stuff left over… I was thinking about making hats for my friends. I had a purse idea floating around too. I’m not sure. Now, if I had the patience to make a whole blanket…ha, nah.

So, my first finished project. I’ll probably do a few more things with this homespun yarn before I finish my scarf. I don’t know why I can’t finish it. Sockinette, I blame you. But let’s not worry about the scarf, shall we? Hat!