Obsessions of a Workaholic

Talk Flirty to Me

2012-02-23T01:04:00.000-06:00

As you know from my last post, I've been feeling stressed out over graduate school lately because I had hoped to finish my Ph.D. next year. But now it looks like I may have to stay in the Ph.D. program for another year after that. I've been struggling to think of how I'm going to support myself for that extra year and how I'm going to explain myself to my family about why it's taking longer than expected to complete my degree.

I wanted to thank those of you who left really nice, encouraging comments on that post; that definitely made me feel better. I must admit that I'm still worried about what's going to happen; that's one of the problems with being an English Ph.D.: constant uncertainty over the future, because unlike people who graduate from medical school, for example, my chances of getting a decent-paying, full-time teaching job are far fewer. Not to mention it takes more years to get an M.A. and a Ph.D. than an M.D. Honestly, if I could go back ten years and choose a different career, I might have, even though I do like teaching. I'm just so tired of being in grad school and all the b.s. that comes with it, and I'm tired of working all these jobs that barely (and sometimes don't) pay enough to cover my bills.

I've been trying to get my mind off of stressful things like that by thinking of other things that are less stressful and sometimes just plain funny. Pick up lines are one example. I have heard them used by both men and women, and now, with online dating, there are the "pick up e-mails" where they have to make themselves sound engaging and attractive through their writing. (You'd think that the e-mails would be easier for me to do than to just go up to some guy in person, since I am a writer, after all. You'd think, right?)

But here are a few examples of pick-up lines that I've heard from guys (in person):

Want to go back to my place? My mom will be asleep, so we don't have to worry about her walking in on us or anything. (I swear I'm not making this one up. And no, I didn't hear this line when I was in high school.)

Hey, lady! I want to @#$* and @%$#, and then I'm going to @#%*@#! (Several guys I've passed on the street have sworn at me, because apparently they think that curse words are sexy. FYI? They're wrong.)

You looked so lonely sitting by yourself, so I figured that you WANTED me to come over here and keep you company.

My friend's dog has the same name as you. Maybe that's a sign that we should have a drink together.

Why are you wearing so many layers? Take some of them off, but...do it slowly.

I totally think that men and women are equal. That's why I don't think I should ever have to pay for your dinner. In fact, I think you should pay for mine. (I'm not making this one up either. And no, the guy wasn't joking.)

Women do it too, of course. Here are a few examples:

I'm going to let you buy me a drink just because you're so cute.

Quick, my ex-boyfriend's coming this way. Let's make him jealous.

Do you think my top is too low-cut?

Could you bend over and pick up that pen for me?

I've never been good at flirting; in a post I wrote a couple years ago, I wrote about how a friend once described me as "the nonflirt". When I'm around a guy that I'm attracted to, I either start tripping over everything and blurting out embarrassing stuff, or I clam up completely and can't talk to him at all. And I'm not always good at picking up on cues when guys flirt with me (unless they're being totally obvious); a cute guy I used to work with and had a crush on kept flirting with, me and once he indirectly asked me out. But I just brushed him off, because I thought he was joking around. It wasn't until after he left that my coworkers told me he really was asking me out. But by then it was too late, and I felt too shy to tell him that I liked him too.

I'm not condemning anyone who uses pick up lines. I think it actually takes courage to go up to someone (especially someone you really like) like that. On the other hand, I don't like it when guys can't take a hint and won't stop flirting with me. (Of course, except for that guy I mentioned, guys that I'm actually attracted to aren't the ones that flirt with me. No, the guys who have problems controlling their behavior and maintaining their personal hygiene and the ones that look like they should be on one of those reality shows before all the cast members get drastic makeovers are the ones that typically hit on me.) That is, if I've already made it clear that I'm not interested, that does not mean it's okay for them to continue hitting on me. In the movies they often show guys who are very persistent when it comes to pursuing women. But in real life I don't find that to be charming; I think it's creepy, especially if I have already said no.

The truth is, I like it best when a guy can just talk to me without trying too hard to impress me. That is, he doesn't brag about himself or make a big show about what a gentleman he is just because he picked up the check. It's nice when a guy can just be himself, though I can understand that some people (both men and women) are too nervous to be themselves on first dates. I think it's very attractive when a guy is confident and outgoing without being arrogant and aggressive.

The problem with pick up lines, in my opinion, is that it's like you're presenting yourself to be something that you're not. I think that if people just struck up regular conversations with each other without including cheesy come-ons, it would make the dating game a lot less awkward (and also a lot less annoying).

Here's a funny video I watched on Youtube where several celebrities presented their own pick up lines. My favorite is Simon Helberg's (Howard from The Big Bang Theory) seduction attempts. (Side note: A few of the actors make dirty jokes in this video, just so you know.)

What kinds of pick up lines have you heard/used in the past? What do you think of pick up lines in general? If you write fiction, do any of your characters use pick up lines?

Sad, Scared, and Screwed

2012-02-20T22:30:00.000-06:00

I had a meeting with one of the professors on my dissertation committee. We met to discuss a draft of my dissertation prospectus, which is basically an outline/description of my dissertation. This person is my favorite professor and is the kind of teacher that I want to be someday. He's intelligent, kind, and encouraging, and he genuinely cares for all of his students. He's the only person who's always believed in me and my work.

When we sat down together to discuss my draft, the first thing he said was, "I don't like this." "This" meaning the draft that I had written. He then gave me a very detailed explanation of what was wrong with my draft. He also said that he had spoken to another member of my committee about the problems in my work. He said that I will most likely have to spend an extra year working on my dissertation.

Needless to say, I was (and still am) crushed. Several of my professors have told me that my work is not good enough. It is true that I am not a budding scholar like many of my fellow grad school classmates are. When we go to lectures that are given by visiting scholars, many of my classmates take notes and ask intelligent questions that demonstrate their understanding of the material as well as their own ideas for how the material could be expanded. Meanwhile, I'm sitting there, thinking, Duhhhhhhh.... I always feel like Homer Simpson in a room full of rocket scientists. Then, as soon as the lecture ends, I always sprint out of there because I am just so damn happy to be FREEEEEEE...at least until the next lecture.

Even though I have not excelled in graduate school, I kept at it because for so many years I thought this was what I wanted. When I was a freshman in college, many of my classmates had specific plans about what they wanted to be. They'd say stuff like, "I'm going to go to medical school and become a doctor." Or they'd say, "I'm going to get my MBA and be like Donald Trump, except I'll have a better haircut." Several of them, however, shrugged their shoulders and said, "I dunno...I guess I'll figure it out later." Three or four years later, several of them were still saying that, only by then they felt a lot more panicked because they hadn't figured it out earlier.

I, on the other hand, always wanted to be a professor. Once I finally started teaching, I liked it a lot, even though it had its frustrations and made my hair start turning white when I was still in my twenties. Teaching is the one job I've had that I've actually been good at, and I've learned a lot from the work and my students. I knew that I couldn't get a tenure-track job with just an M.A. So after working as an adjunct for a few years, I went into the Ph.D. program. And I've been struggling to stay afloat ever since.

One major problem is that unlike most of my classmates, a lot of my time is occupied by part-time jobs that help pay all the bills and expenses that my tiny stipend does not cover. I chose not to apply for student loans. A lot of my classmates did get loans, but my personal opinion is that if you're pursuing a graduate degree in the liberal arts, it's going to take a lot longer and be a lot harder to pay it off then if you were pursuing a degree in a more lucrative field. Frankly, I just didn't want to have a six-figure debt waiting for me when I graduated.

I also do not have a spouse or other family members to rely on for financial assistance; I only have myself. That's why I have to work, and as a result I have had to sacrifice too much time that should have been spent on my studies. And many of you have read about the experiences that I've had at these awful, low-paying part-time jobs, some of them where I burst into tears in front of coworkers and customers, others where customers treated me like their own emotional punching bags, and one where I was so stressed out that I developed a rash all over my arms.

But I kept working, all these years, because I thought I could still succeed at this. One thing that a workaholic hates is wasted time. Another thing that a workaholic hates even more is failure. And I feel like I have failed by not producing work that satisfies my professors, because deep down I know that they're right when they say that it isn't good enough. I feel like I have failed by needing an extra year to complete my degree. I feel like all these years I've spent toiling away have been a waste, because I might not achieve my goal after all. Maybe I should have dropped out of graduate school years ago, but it's too late to drop out now. And I think I would feel even worse if I did.

So I feel sad because I messed up in graduate school, scared because I don't know what to do, and screwed because I don't know how I'm going to support myself during that extra year when I won't have any funding from my graduate program.

Have you ever been in a situation where you failed at your job? How did you handle it?

What I Wish I Could Say to My Students

2012-02-15T00:36:00.000-06:00

As the teacher, I always have to be the adult in the classroom, even when my students drive me up the wall. God forbid I should say something that negatively affects their self-esteem, something like "C's are not good grades. You can do better," or "Maybe you should rethink your career plans, because not everyone makes it in Hollywood within the first year of moving there." I don't insult my students or anything like that, but I do think this whole business of making sure that students feel good about themselves all the time is nonsense. Sometimes, what they need to hear is not unearned praise but the truth. The thing is, once they start working and enter the "real world", they're not going to get away with 85% of the stuff that they do. And I sometimes get negative reactions from students when I refuse to let them get away with that stuff while they're still in school.

But here are a few examples of things that I think all students (not just mine) should hear:

I read an article about a 20-something guy who did a project where he lived without texting, e-mail, Facebook, etc. for a long period of time, and everyone viewed it as a major accomplishment and sacrifice. To which I say, "Except for e-mail, I live without that stuff EVERY DAY! Why doesn't someone give ME a medal?"

You complain that authors like William Faulkner and Ernest Hemingway are boring, which may be one reason why so many of you don't do the assigned reading on a regular basis. And yet you find your friends' Tweets that say stuff like, "Watching Family Guy. LMAO" and "Partying all night long. A very good night" so FASCINATING.

Speaking of Twitter, Facebook, and texting, I can go through entire DAYS without any of these things. So why can't you sit through an entire class without them? You'll still be alive by the end of class, I promise. And all 200 of your Facebook "friends" will understand.

You know how they say that water in a pot isn't going to automatically boil just because you stare at it? Well, if you keep staring at me without answering any of the questions that I ask during class discussions, then I'm going to start boiling.

If you don't want me to be in a bad mood when I write your recommendation letter, then don't ask me to write one for you less than two days before it's due.

My classes are rarely boring, even when I teach the same subject over and over again. It's because of all of you and how you respond to the material, and that's what makes my job interesting.

Don't tell me that you can't afford to buy the books, because then I'm going to ask who paid for your new iPhone and laptop.

You wouldn't like it if I showed up half an hour late for an appointment to discuss your paper, or if I didn't show up at all. You also wouldn't like it if I sent you an e-mail at the last minute (AFTER you've already shown up for the appointment) to let you know that I won't be there. So why do you people keep DOING these things?

When I see your writing improve, I know that you've actually learned something from me. And that makes me happy.

If you want to see me explode, then tell me, "This isn't the grade I deserve." Then show me your paper and point out all the "mistakes" I made when I graded your paper.

Threatening to go to my boss isn't going to make me change your grade. I will not tolerate such disrespect from anyone, especially not my students. And I will NOT let you force me to change your grade.

Asking me what you can do to improve your grade, taking responsibility for your own mistakes, working harder in class, writing original papers that go above and beyond my expectations and don't just regurgitate my lectures, actively participating in class discussions, and answering the questions correctly are all things that you can do to raise your grade.

Taking responsibility for yourself, rather than blaming other people, is part of what makes you an adult. So if you want me to treat you like an adult, then act like one.

I love it when you all say, "Ohhhh!!" when you finally understand what I've been teaching you. That lets me know that I've finally gotten through to you.

When you told me that you started reading other books by the author that we're studying in class, just because that person's writing interested you so much, you made my day.

If you can show up on time to watch a movie or the latest episode of American Idol, then you can show up on time for class.

Speaking of American Idol, why is it that so many of you can recite all the names of the current finalists without hesitation, but you can't remember all the names of the characters in the chapter that you were supposed to read for today?

"Watching a movie during class" does not equal "nap time".

When you become enthusiastic about the projects that we're working on, and I see that light in your eyes that shows how important the work is to you, you make my year.

Another way to make me explode is to tell me that you are just as qualified (if not more so) to teach this class as I am because you took AP English in high school.

A death in the family, a serious illness, and jury duty are valid reasons for missing class. A bad breakup, the fact that you didn't feel like it, the fact that you stayed out too late the night before and overslept, and the fact that you'd rather focus on work for one of your "fun" classes are not valid reasons for being absent. And also? The "family emergency" excuse is only acceptable if there actually is an emergency in your family. Don't use it just because you're trying to get out of turning in your work on time, because I will figure out the truth.

Why is it that you're able to update your Facebook and Twitter pages on a regular basis, but you can't seem to turn in your work on time?

Even though I happen to be younger than your other instructors, that does not mean that I'm going to be more lenient or your friend. I'm sorry if you dislike the fact that someone who isn't that much older than you has authority over you, but that doesn't mean that you can cite my age as a reason for why you think I shouldn't be teaching this class.

The priests at my church get mad if people try to sneak out of Mass early. Sometimes the priest will actually stop talking and call attention to the impatient people sneaking out. Catholic guilt can be very effective. By a similar token, I get mad when you start packing up your bookbag and standing up to leave the room before I've dismissed the class. Then I'M going to call attention to your sinful actions and make YOU feel guilty.

You know what would be nice to hear once in a while? "Thank you."

Trust me. You WILL read and write even after you graduate from college, so it's better to strengthen your skills in these areas now.

A college education is about so much more than just getting straight A's and earning a degree. It bothers me when people view me as a degree distributor, not an educator. If all you care about are your grades and fulfilling your requirements, you're going to miss out on so much. And then you'll end up regretting it later on, because you'll never get these years back.

What do you think of the self-esteem movement? What are other things that you think college students need to hear?

Inspire Me to Write

2012-02-07T16:14:00.000-06:00

Writers look for inspiration in all aspects of life. They write about their childhoods, their relationships with other people, their secret dreams for how they would like their lives to be, etc. They also get inspired by other writers, particularly the ones whose books are so good that their readers become invested in the characters' lives and are disappointed when there are no more pages left to read. For me, I find inspiration in all of these things. I also get ideas for stories from my work, particularly from my students, my professors, and even the rude customers I encounter in retail, because in my imagination those customers get punished by being thrown out of the store or have to walk around wearing giant sandwich boards that say, "I have no people skills."

I also get ideas from news articles, such as the one about the woman who was Tasered and then arrested by police because she cut in front of a line of waiting cars in the drive-thru at McDonald's and then refused to move. When I read that story, I wanted to clip that news article and show it to every person who tries to cut in front of me in line, so that I could say, "This could happen to you."

I read somewhere that when you're struggling with writer's block, you should take a break from writing and do something different, like take a walk, go out to eat, visit a museum, or watch a play. When I can scrounge up enough money for a ticket, I like to go to plays, because there are tons of theaters in Chicago that feature amazing actors; a lot of these actors make me think, "You should be starring in TV shows, not the spoiled socialites who make me want to swear off television altogether and move to an isolated cabin in the woods where there is no cable."

On the other hand, once I went to a play that got me pretty steamed; a couple of the actors were saying stuff in one of the scenes that totally misinterpreted Catholic beliefs and made all Catholics look bad. I didn't feel inspired; I wanted to walk out of the theater right then and there. I also wanted to walk right up to the actors and scream, "You're WRONG!"

There are other things that don't make me angry but make me want to grab my journal and start writing, so that I can write something that also makes other people feel happy.

One thing I've always loved to do in Chicago is sit by the lake. I like to go out to Grant Park, find a quiet place by the lake, sit out there for hours and just watch the water move and think about everything or nothing at all. It always calms me to do this, especially on days when everything else in the city drives me nuts, like my neighbors who talk on their cell phones late at night. They open their windows and talk really loudly, so that everyone else can hear their conversations.

Since my building is shaped so that my apartment is in close proximity to and faces several other apartments, I am often awoken from sweet dreams where I find out that Willy Wonka has left his Chocolate Factory to me or George Clooney has decided he does want to get married after all, and hey, it's to me! I wake up because of my neighbors' loud, shrill voices that sometimes make me wonder if they are voiceover actors for cartoons. That prompts me to throw open my window and shriek, "Sleep deprivation does NOT make me want to be your friend or even a good neighbor; it makes me want to throw things at you!"

But when I can go sit by the lake, I'm able to escape from all of that, at least for a little while. It gives me a chance to be alone with my thoughts, and it makes me feel good enough that eventually I want to go home and start writing, or take out my journal and start writing then and there. I can only sit by the lake when it's warm, though; in the winter, staring at the lake covered in ice just isn't as inspirational for me. Not to mention the heavy winter coat and thick gloves I wear make it hard to hold a pen.

Here's another example of something that inspires me. It's a clip from the film Sister Act 2 (if you watch closely, you'll see Professor McGonagall and the Ghost Whisperer - oops, I meant Maggie Smith and Jennifer Love Hewitt). I dare you not to smile when you're watching this. Every time I watch it, I can't help admiring the singers for the passion they put into their music, and it makes me remember the passion that I have for my writing. I can only hope that someday my stories will be as good as their songs.

Funny people also make me want to write, people like Conan o'Brien and Tina Fey, but especially writers like Steve Almond and Jen Lancaster. I think that humor is essential to most stories, because it helps those fictional characters walking around as if they have the weight of the world on their shoulders to just lighten up already. As egotistical as it sounds, I can't help thinking how wonderful it would be if something I wrote made one of those funny people laugh. It would definitely be one of the high points of my life. It would rank right up there with my fantasy that eating chocolate and drinking Frappuccinos can actually make you lose weight. (Oh, if only!)

There's a really funny, young vlogger on Youtube who has more than two million subscribers. (Can you imagine if two million people subscribed to your blog?) His Youtube name is "Kevjumba", and he talks about everything in his videos, such as Asian stereotypes, his hilarious father, college, and dating. I like that he's kind of neurotic (always nice to find a kindred neurotic) and that he vlogs about ordinary things in imaginative ways that make them sound interesting and entertaining. And really, isn't that what writers are supposed to do?

Here's one of my favorite videos by Kevjumba:

I've written manuscripts for two chick lit novels so far (though they still definitely need to be revised). Even though I haven't found true love yet, the hope that I will find it someday makes me express that hope through my main characters as they search for the people that they're meant to be with.

My thirty-first birthday is coming up in a couple months (AAAAHHHH!!! I'm getting OLDER and I can't make it stop!), and I'm still single. It's not like I haven't tried. I went to a speed-dating party, joined a group for people my age at my church, and signed up for four online dating memberships (not all at the same time, though). Sometimes it's hard to keep hoping, because I've started to wonder if there really is someone out there for me. There are times I think that maybe I'm just not meant to be with anyone for the rest of my life, because how do we really know that there's one soul mate for each person? Maybe some people are meant to be alone because they're meant to do other things with their lives.

On the other hand, I'm able to pour all of my doubt, frustrations, and hope into my stories, and I can use weird online dating profiles that I've seen as writing prompts, such as the one that said, "If you can't get along with my cats, then it's never going to work between us." As several of you have suggested, I can also write about some of the bad dates I've been on, such as the one where the guy obviously couldn't wait to get out of there, to the point that he made up a lame excuse about ending the date early and practically sprinted away from me less than an hour after we met up for the date. It made me wonder if I was just bad at choosing dates or if there was something about me that made most guys (except for the creepy, unattractive ones) run in the opposite direction.

But chick lit novels wouldn't be much fun to read if the main characters didn't have any hope at all that they'll find the right person. So as cheesy as it sounds, sometimes I like to watch this clip from Rodgers and Hammerstein's Cinderella (and can I just say that Paolo Montalban makes an excellent Prince?) and remind myself that all is not lost just yet, and that maybe there really is a great guy out there for me.

What about you? What are things that inspire you to write?

Stuff Chicagoans Say

2012-02-02T14:03:00.000-06:00

I found these videos on Youtube after reading an article about them, and I just had to share them with all of you. I love both of them, especially the part where the girl says, "Just take LSD to get there" (LSD = Lakeshore Drive), and the parts where the people are singing jingles from those annoying commercials for Empire Carpet and Luna. Those commercials bug me almost as much as that Binder & Binder commercial with that guy who always creeps me out, the one where he puts on a cowboy hat and says, "We'll deal with the government. You have enough to worry about." (Why the cowboy hat? Is that supposed to be reassuring? Or is he about to gallop away on a horse and fight the bad guys in a 1950s western movie?)

And I have to say that the people in the video are really not exaggerating the way Chicagoans speak or act. As they say, forty degrees is NOT cold; that's barbecue weather in Chicago! And as far as where the best pizza is made? Giordanos, of course!

But I've never made snow angels in the city. For one thing, the snow's usually too dirty from the mud splashed on it by passing cars as well as hundreds of footprints from people walking over it. I'm also too afraid that I'll either drown in the enormous piles of snow or get trampled by impatient commuters on their way to the train or tourists on their way to Michigan Avenue.

Both videos reminded me of how much Chicago has become home to me since I moved here several years ago, and how I've said several of the things that are said in both videos on more than one occasion. (Except for the stuff about sports, since I like football about as much as Hugh Hefner likes monogamy.)

I do try to remember how much I love Chicago on the days when I am stuck waiting for the El that's twenty minutes late in arriving, only for it to break down after I've only been on it for five minutes. And then I have to take a bus that also happens to be at least twenty minutes late and I end up crammed into a bus with a bunch of angry commuters who look like they're ready to whap someone in the face with their copies of the Red Eye just so they can sit down, while other commuters at the next bus stop see how crowded the bus is and believe that the only rational thing to do is to make the bus even more crowded by squeezing themselves in.

I also try to remember that Chicago really is a great city to live in, despite the days when I see rats scampering along the tracks when I'm waiting for the subway. I have this slightly irrational fear that they'll somehow find their way onto the platform and attack all the commuters before they take over the city and threaten to bite anyone who says, "Da Bears." I remind myself that I am lucky to live here, even when I'm walking down the street and see trash scattered all over the place by people too lazy to just walk less than half a dozen steps to the trash cans that are on practically every corner. It's also important to remind myself of why I haven't yet left the city for a place that doesn't annoy the hell out of me on a regular basis (but really, seeing as how I am completely neurotic, I don't think that place actually exists) on days when it's so windy that it looks like everyone's moving in slow motion, because they actually are. But I digress.

But on the other hand, I chose to move to this beautiful city, and I choose to stay here (at least for now), even though it drives me crazy to be a Chicagoan half the time. I would like to live somewhere else someday, maybe another city like New York or Boston, or maybe a quiet college town halfway across the country. I've also always had this fantasy of living in Europe someday, like one of the American expatriate writers. But for now, I live here because this city really is home to me, and it's hard to imagine what the past several years would have been like or who I would be if I had lived somewhere else.

(Side note: I don't usually swear on this blog, so I should warn you that there are some curse words in one of the videos, though you might have guessed that from the titles of the videos.)

Here's the Facebook page I found on the Youtube page of the first video: www.facebook.com/obramusic.

For more info about the people in the second video, check out their links below; I got the links from their Youtube page.

Robert Bacon - https://twitter.com/#!/tastethebacon
Marie Maloney - https://twitter.com/#!/marie_maloney
Tess Borgerding - http://ioimprov.com/chicago/performers/tess-borgerding

I've noticed that there's been a bit of a stir online over the fact that the second video focuses more on the North Side; I don't see what the big deal is, because the North Side is part of Chicago after all, and it's not like they're saying that the North Side is all there is in the city, which it obviously isn't. But then again, a lot of Chicagoans can be very territorial when it comes to their neighborhoods, no matter which side of the city they live on.

What kinds of stuff do people say where you live? What kinds of beliefs do outsiders have about your hometown that aren't actually accurate? Why do you choose to stay there? Have you ever thought about living anywhere else?

Happy Groundhog Day, everyone! Only six more weeks of winter! (Except in Chicago, winter's going to feel like it lasts a lot longer, like it does every year! But hey, what are you gonna do? It's not like this is L.A.)

What I've Learned from the Jersey Shore

2012-01-31T09:29:00.001-06:00

If your underwear is showing, then your dress is too short.

If you insist on wearing a short dress, then make sure that you wear underwear.

Fighting strangers in public just because they threw a drink at you/pulled your weave/looked at you in the wrong way does not make you look like a man (or a woman). It makes you look violent and stupid.

Orange is not a good look for anyone. It's also a sign that you've spent too much time in the tanning booth.

If you wear your hair so high that you start to resemble Frankenstein's monster or the monster's bride (Pauly and Snooki, I'm talking to you), then the villagers just might come after you with flaming torches and pitchforks.

Referring to yourself in the third person does not make you sound smarter (and who gives himself a lame nickname like "The Situation", anyway?).

It's okay to swim in the ocean. It's not actually full of whale sperm.

When your boyfriend/girlfriend screams at you on a regular basis, destroys your belongings, freaks out if you talk to someone of the opposite sex, and/or shoves you around, it's time to break up and cut that person out of your life for good. It doesn't mean you should take that person back again and again just because he/she is so "awesome".

Even if you pull the blanket over your heads, everyone still knows what you and your date are doing.

If you are lucky enough to get a free trip to Italy, don't spend the whole trip partying with tourists. Looking at art, eating Italian food, interacting with the locals, exploring the different cities, and experiencing all the other things that Italy has to offer should not be an afterthought that is saved for the last couple days of your trip.

It's good to exercise and lift weights on a regular basis. It's also good to lift a book and actually read it every now and then.

Spraying your hair with a bunch of hairspray is not the same as shampooing it. And spraying yourself from head to toe with cologne (which is so strong it makes other people hold their breath and back away quickly from you) is not the same thing as taking a shower.

When your fifteen minutes of fame are up, at least you'll have a career to fall back on selling T-shirts in the Shore Store.

When I first started watching Jersey Shore, I did it because I was bored and nothing else was on. I hadn't even really watched reality TV (except for the occasional episode of Millionaire Matchmaker) since I stopped watching The Real World almost a decade ago. I'd gotten irritated with that show because it had gone way downhill since the show first aired. Now every show centered on drunken catfights, hot tub orgies, and pretty, spoiled brats whining about how hard life was for them even though they didn't have to work and got to live rent-free in fancy penthouses.

And yet, I later found myself tuning in to watch Jersey Shore, which is full of drunken catfights and hot tub orgies, except the cast of this show is a lot more orange and have turned partying into a career. I could never live or act the way that they do (nor would I ever want to), and yet I couldn't help watching them. (On the other hand, I haven't been watching the show as often as I used to, because the episodes started getting repetitive three seasons ago. For example, it gets boring to watch Snooki and the Situation get thrown out of clubs again and again.)

One reason I watched the show was because they're so stupid it's funny. They say and do the stupidest things sometimes, and they don't even realize how stupid they look. I guess it's bad for me to say this, but I actually feel better about myself when I watch them. I think, Well, at least I've never done anything THAT dumb.

I know I'm not the only one who indulges in reality television. Millions of people take pleasure in being voyeurs to other people's lives; they say it's "reality", but it's anything but. The episodes are edited by the show's "writers" and producers, and certain events and emotions are magnified to make them seem much more dramatic than they actually are. Some of the people on these shows are so greedy for fame and money that they let the shows bring out the worst in them without considering the long-term consequences. We watch people get engaged to people they've only known for a few weeks, only to break up a few months later. We watch women who see nothing wrong with marrying for money so that they can have luxurious lifestyles, and we watch men treat women like sex objects.

We also watch teen moms who spend more time obsessing over their abusive boyfriends than their own babies. That's one reason I'm seriously considering not watching Teen Mom anymore, because the show has become so disturbing. What kind of mother would rather scream at her mother and drive off to smoke weed than stay home with her son? What kind of mother would slap her emotionally abusive boyfriend around in front of her child? What kind of mother prevents her ex-boyfriend from spending any time with their son just to punish him? Several of the girls on Teen Mom, that's who. Yes, there are older women who act like this too, but the behavior of some of the girls on this show in particular makes me worry about the example that several (though not all) of the girls on that show are setting for other teenagers.

We watch teenagers and twentysomethings on other reality shows get drunk, take their clothes off, and do the kinds of wild things that make us wonder how they'll ever get hired for real jobs when they finally come to their senses, because employers who are not Joe Francis (of the Girls Gone Wild notoriety) will probably not want to hire young adults who do those things on national television. (That might explain why some of them continue doing reality TV well into their thirties and forties.)

And even though we may be frustrated, repulsed, or horrified by their behavior, we continue to watch because it's "entertainment". It's also very easy for us to judge these people, seeing as how we only get the edited version of their lives. I've read the online message boards for some of these shows, and many of the people post extremely hateful, nasty, and ignorant comments on those boards that bash the people on those shows.

But on the other hand, I think that we can actually learn something from reality television. For one thing, we can learn about how we shouldn't act, and we can learn that all that fame and money can't really make up for the fact that the people on those shows have no privacy and have made themselves vulnerable to millions of viewers' criticism. Reality TV also teaches us that loving, lasting, and genuine relationships are nothing like the ones that we see on TV.

What about you? Do you watch reality TV? If not, why not? If you do, which shows do you watch and why?

What I Wish I Could Say to the People at My Gym

2012-01-24T10:26:00.000-06:00

Those sinks in the bathroom aren't decorations. They're for washing your hands.

When you grunt really loudly like that, is it because you're in pain from lifting those heavy weights, or is it because you want everyone to know that you're lifting those heavy weights?

Stop hogging that machine. Just because it has a good view of the girls on the exercise balls, that doesn't give you the right to monopolize the machine when other people like me are waiting to use it. Besides, none of those girls have even looked at you, and I need to work on my glutes.

Leaving your towel draped over the machine doesn't mean you own it, especially because you're using the machine right next to it. If you keep hogging both machines like that, I'm going to grab your towel, swing it around my head like a lasso, and bellow, "There's only room for ONE of us in this gym..."

Do you wonder why there's nobody on the machines on either side of you, even though the gym is really crowded today? It's because it's time for you to take a shower.

The janitors work really hard. Don't make their jobs harder by leaving your towels all over the floor of the locker room. Seeing as how you kept bending over to stretch in front of the guys lifting weights, that means you're perfectly capable of bending over to pick up your own towels. And also? The same goes for leaving your underwear all over the place. I really don't need to know what kind of thong you wear.

Yes, the aerobics classes really are crowded, and you have to show up early if you want to get a good spot. However, that doesn't give you the right to refuse to wait for the previous class to leave, push people out of the way, make rude comments about the people who dare to get in the room before you, and rush to the front of the room just so you can show off how good of a dancer you are and flirt with the male instructor. Besides, didn't you see him flirting with that guy right before class started?

Just because I left the room for a few seconds to go to the water fountain, that doesn't mean you can steal my spot in the dance class. So why don't you go shake your booty back to where you were before?

You know how it's really annoying when people insist on squeezing onto the train even though it's clear that it's already too crowded? It's also really annoying when people insist on crowding into the dance class, even though we might as well dance cheek to cheek at this point, just so there will be more room.

I don't really care if you want to gab to everyone on your list of contacts, even though the gym has a strict rule about not using cell phones in the locker room. But do you think you could put your clothes on before you talk on the phone for half an hour? Or at least put a towel on the bench before you sit down?

If you want to spend twenty minutes applying five layers of makeup, whatever. But could you not scatter your stuff all over the counter so that there's no room for me to blow dry my hair? I really don't want to have to blow dry your face just to get you to move. But I will if I have to.

That sleeveless shirt really shows off your muscular arms. You look very strong and manly. You know what else would look good on you? Shorts. I mean, why cover up your muscular legs with those baggy workout pants?

You know what this gym needs? A juice bar. Preferably one that employs muscular guys in sleeveless shirts and shorts.

Thank you for being a gentleman and opening the door for me. That made my day. That almost made up for all the other times the other cute guys at the gym took one look at me and then immediately looked around for one of the girls on the exercise balls.

Do you belong to a gym? What do you wish you could say to the people who work out there?

My Literary Alter Ego Is an Honors Student

2012-01-17T09:09:00.000-06:00

I've read interviews where published authors say that they never base their characters on themselves or people they know; they claim that their characters are completely original and come from their imagination, not their daily lives. I find that a little hard to believe, because I think that the people in our lives inspire us to write.

On the other hand, the characters in my fiction aren't carbon copies of the people in my life. I wouldn't want to get sued, for one thing. I also wouldn't want people to come up to me and say, "That character is nothing like me! I'm a much better friend than that! Is it really so bad that I always tell you about how much fun I have with my other friends without ever inviting you to come with us? And so what if I always call you at the last minute? Why wouldn't you want to drop everything and hang out with me?"

In one of the stories I'm writing, my main character is a lot like me. I like the idea of having a literary alter ego, because this person gets to do and say all the things that I don't get to do or say in real life. I also like the idea of having a literary alter ego who is tougher and more honest than I am. In my story, this person isn't afraid to stand up to all the people who are mean to her; these people are the disguised literary alter egos of the people who treat me like crap in real life.

For example, yesterday I was walking around the lobby of my building, and I saw a woman standing at the front door. I didn't open the door for her because I didn't know her, and I'd really rather not let strangers into my building. But she banged on the door after I walked by. She was on the phone, and apparently she didn't want to interrupt her conversation, or maybe she didn't have the strength to use her bony fingers (which reminded me of the fingers that I saw on the Witch in the most recent episode of Once Upon a Time) to open the door herself. Or maybe she was just lazy. Either way, when I opened the door for her, she glared at me and was extremely sarcastic and rude with me for not opening the door for her.

I just mumbled something at her and walked away. But my literary alter ego would be a lot braver than that. She'd yell back, "Why are you just standing there? What, do you think you're in an episode of Downton Abbey? I am NOT your butler and you are NOT a 'lady'; you're a LOSER!" or "You do realize that when you're extremely rude like that, I will have no choice but to trip you on the way to the elevator, right?" or "I'd whap that cell phone right out of your hand with my bag of M&Ms if there wasn't the risk that the bag would break and then I wouldn't get to eat the M&Ms. Of course, there's always the possibility that you could slip and fall on them, and then I could stand there and laugh maniacally at you."

There's a really cute, muscular guy at my gym who works out at the same times that I do. I always see him running on the treadmill while I'm working out on the elliptical. Sometimes I keep exercising just so I can stare at his, um...pants a little bit longer. But I've never mustered enough courage to say anything to him. I'm too shy to even jog on the treadmill next to him, because I'm afraid that I might do that thing where I slip and fall on the treadmill before sliding off of it face-down.

But my literary alter ego would have the guts to walk up to him and talk to him. And in my story, he would turn out to be a nice guy who liked her back, not a guy who'd be more likely to dismiss her in favor of one of the girls who always does sit-ups in a tight sports bra in front of the guys who lift weights.

I applied to teach a class this summer, but I didn't get the job. It bothers me that I will have to work ANOTHER awful summer job that makes me so stressed out I start hallucinating and think that bugs are crawling up my arms. I definitely can't just work another retail job, though, because most retail jobs don't pay enough and I've gone into debt because of that fact. So I have to look around for something better.

My literary alter ego, though, wouldn't have to work a crappy summer job. She'd do something that I've always wanted to do, like take a cross-country road trip by herself. AND she'd be a much better driver than I am, seeing as how I can't even park a car without gritting my teeth and shrieking, "Don't hit anything, don't hit anything, don't hit anything, EEEEEEPS!!!" until the car is safely in place. Or she'd have the money to travel to Europe and try new foods and learn the languages; she'd take a bunch of pictures and write about everything that she saw and experienced.

She wouldn't have to spend the summer saying stuff like, "Would you like to sign up for the store's credit card?" while thinking, "Oh, don't even bother. You could get the same stuff that you just bought at a discount store for half the price, but I can't tell you that because it's bad for business. I also don't want to tell you that, seeing as how you just yelled at me for not accepting your expired coupons and because you tried on twenty different items of clothing and only bought one. So what do I care if you just spent more money than I'll earn in an entire shift? Not that I'm BITTER or anything."

I do take things from my real life and put them in my fiction; for example, I write about online dating, teaching, those moments of loneliness, confusion, disillusionment, frustration, and fear that all thirtysomethings and twentysomethings feel at some point, life in Chicago, etc., etc. Writing helps me analyze what happened to me, and in many cases I get to write about what I would have liked to have happened instead. And having a literary alter ego makes it even better, because even if I can't do everything that I want to do in real life, she can. But it doesn't always come without consequences for her, though. I figure that if problems do come up, then a plot will develop as well. And that makes the story even more interesting.

What about you? Do you have a literary alter ego in your fiction? What is she/he like?

(Side note: I was an honors student when I was younger. So that's at least one reason I'm not envious of my literary alter ego.)

Who and Where I Don't Want to Be in Five Years

2012-01-10T00:38:00.002-06:00

The new year has made me think a lot more about my future, as well as mistakes that I've made in the past. (For example, the time I thought owning a wardrobe made up almost entirely of flannel shirts, ripped jeans, and "skorts" was a mistake.)

Interviewers often ask job candidates, "Where do you see yourself in five years?" If I were really honest, I'd say, "I don't know." But I have thought a lot about where and who I don't want to be. Here are a few examples:

1. I don't want to be the type of person who keeps making excuses. One thing that bothers me about some undergrads (though not all of them are like this) is their refusal to take responsibility for their own actions. If they get a bad grade, they blame everyone else (particularly me) but themselves. They'll say stuff like, "I know I missed ten classes, but I think it's unfair that you expect us to show up every day." (I wish I could be there to hear them say stuff like that to their future employers.) Or they might say something like, "I can't afford to buy all the books for this class because I just got a new iPhone. And besides, I can just read Cliffsnotes."

It bothers me that some students won't admit that they didn't do what they were supposed to do, or that they didn't produce the best work that they could have produced. They blame me or make a bunch of excuses instead.

But then I realized that I sometimes made excuses too. I blamed the fact that I wasn't making as much progress on my dissertation as I should have on the fact that teaching and my website job took up so much time. It was true that I didn't have as much free time as I would have liked, but I also procrastinated a lot. Mindless Internet surfing is my worst habit.

More than once I'll find myself staring at my laptop for hours at a time, watching Youtube videos of dogs dancing on their hind legs or reading weird news articles, like the one about the athlete who injured himself while eating breakfast. I also have a bad habit of watching TV shows that I've already watched several times. I even watched shows that I don't even like, including one of the Kardashian spinoffs. (I couldn't sit through a whole episode, though; watching it made me want to start banging my head against the wall because I figured that would be less painful.)

Because of that, I am now behind on my dissertation. I have to face the fact that I might not complete my Ph.D. next year like I originally planned. And I feel awful that I haven't accomplished as much as my classmates have. I thought about why I kept procrastinating, and I realized that it was because I was scared that I wouldn't write something good, and sometimes it was because I didn't know what to say at all. I found myself unable to write anything when I sat down in front of my laptop. It was so much easier to watch another rerun of Friends instead.

But I don't want to be like that anymore. Now I am taking responsibility for my actions, and I need to stop making excuses all the time. I resolve to devote more time to my dissertation. Even if it does take me longer to finish my Ph.D., the important thing is that I finish it.

2. I don't want to be living in an overpriced, substandard apartment that I hate with neighbors I hate even more. Today I saw that one of my neighbors apparently coughed up an enormous loogie and wiped it on the wall of the elevator. I touched it out of curiosity before I realized what it was, because I'm a dodo head like that. And that is reason #487 why my neighbors drive me nuts.

I want to live in a nicer apartment with a landlord who doesn't believe that running water that doesn't turn brown and washing machines and dryers that actually work are unnecessary luxuries. I want to live in a place where my neighbors are quiet and considerate, and not the type of people who have loud parties almost every night and fall down drunk outside my apartment at 2 A.M. while squealing, "WHOOPSIE! I think I just fell down, hahahaha!"

3. I don't want to be the kind of person who never goes anywhere or never lets herself have fun. When I first moved to Chicago, I soaked up the city as much as I could. I went to concerts, plays, readings, museums, interesting neighborhoods, etc., etc. But now I hardly do anything fun. I could blame my work schedule and tiny checking account on that fact. (Side note: My life has become so humdrum that I actually had a dream the other night about doing laundry.)

But on the other hand, the fact that I rarely take advantage of what this city has to offer has made me focus more on the bad things about living here, like the inconsiderate drivers who come close to running me over because they're talking on their cell phones. That makes me want to scream, "Why don't you go someplace where you and your cell phone can be alone, JERK!"

I actually used to yell at bad drivers, because I got so mad at their carelessness and rudeness. I stopped when I realized that a) it was dangerous, because they just might come back with their cars, and b) screaming at them made me look even worse than they did. I realized that I was taking out my frustration on them because I was working too hard. (But drivers who care more about their cell phones than about making sure they don't run anyone down still bother me.)

So now when things get a little too much and I feel like screaming again, I try to set aside time to do something that's just for me, like work on my novel in a coffeehouse or go to the Art Institute on one of its free admission days. Even though it means sacrificing time that could be spent on my work, I always end up feeling better as a result. And I think that makes me do better at my jobs, too.

What about you? Who or where do you not want to be in the next five years?

Characters I (Don't) Want to Be Friends with

2012-01-03T22:52:00.003-06:00

I've been reading a lot of chick lit lately, because a) I like it; b) since most of the stuff I write is chick lit, I think of reading chick lit novels by published authors as research; c) due to the fact that I'm thirty years old and still single, it helps to read stories about women who are just as confused about dating as I am but still get their happy endings. (It especially helps after reading way too many online dating profiles that say stuff like, "I'm convinced that there's a woman who looks just like Natalie Portman out there for me, and I'm not willing to settle for less," and "I have a girlfriend, but I'm still open to meeting new people.")

Some of the chick lit novels I've been reading are really good, the kind of books that I want to reread as soon as I finish reading them. Some of them, however, are not so good. One major problem I have with a few chick lit novels are the characters. If I don't like the main character in particular, it's really difficult for me to enjoy the book. I mean, if I'm going to be reading 300 pages about someone's life, I want it to be about someone who's funny, interesting, and a good person, not someone who makes me want to take her by the shoulders and yell, "For God's sake, get a grip, woman!"

I like reading chick lit books about characters that I want to be friends with, the kind of women who would be fun to hang out with and have dinner with, not the kind of friends who make me frantically come up with excuses like, "I can't hang out tonight because I have to organize all of my M&Ms by color and Google myself to make sure that nobody's writing mean stuff about me and posting it online."

I read a book called See Jane Write: A Girl's Guide to Writing Chick Lit, by Sarah Mlynowski and Farrin Jacobs. It included a list of descriptions of characters who should not show up in chick lit novels. I agreed with their list. I've included my own list below, with my own additions/modifications.

1. There's more to life than having a boyfriend. Have you ever had a friend who was totally obsessed with her boyfriend? The kind of girl who spent every weekend with him, and only hung out with you when he wasn't available? The girl who would spend half the time texting him when she wasn't with him? And it isn't just girls who are like this. I was once friends with a guy who would mention his girlfriend every ten minutes, literally. His girlfriend was nice, but I didn't really want to hear every single thing about her ALL THE LIVELONG DAY.

In some of the chick lit novels I've been reading, getting or keeping a boyfriend is not only the protagonist's main concern; it's her only concern. I will admit that finding true love is important to me too, but there are other things that matter, things like friends, writing, teaching, life in Chicago, whether or not I'll ever be able to kick my Jersey Shore addiction (I know they're stupid and are probably sucking my soul every time I watch their show, and yet I can't stop watching!), etc., etc.

I don't want to read a story about a twenty-first century Stepford Girlfriend whose only focus in life is finding and pleasing her man. I want to read a love story, yes, but I also want to read about the other stuff in her life. Just look at Pride and Prejudice. It is a story that focuses on women's pursuit of love, but it's also about other good stuff, like Elizabeth Bennet's frustration and love for her embarrassing family, and the fact that people like Lady Catherine just can't get over the fact that Elizabeth doesn't have the same wealth and social status as Lady Catherine does.

2. Real life is not a soap opera. When I was in college, I was addicted to soap operas. I actually scheduled my classes so that I wouldn't miss any episodes of All My Children. But then I got caught up with school, friends, and college clubs; I ended up missing several episodes. When I started watching again, it was a lot easier to recognize how melodramatic and unrealistic soap operas are (although if you think about it, it's pretty much required and expected that soap operas be melodramatic and unrealistic).

I thought, "Hey! Real life and relationships aren't like this! Real people don't have evil twins (at least I hope they don't) who are plotting to destroy everyone that gets in their way. Most people don't become so obsessed with the object of their affection that they a) kidnap other people's babies and replace them with other babies; b) keep deal-breaking secrets like secret pregnancies, the fact that they didn't really divorce their eighth husband, the fact that they're secretly cheating on the object of their affection with the other object of their affection, or the fact that they are the evil twin; c) keep doing that dramatic pause thing where they stare off into the distance and do a monologue where they say stuff like, "I will make him love me! I don't care that he's married to my sister who seems to be invincible because she keeps mysteriously coming back from the dead no matter how many deathly traps I set for her! I mean, seriously, who is able to survive a gunshot wound, a house fire, and a drowning, all in one week?"

Monologues in chick lit novels are okay if they're used sparingly, but I don't want to feel like I'm reading a play by Shakespeare. He was able to use monologues pretty effectively, but in chick lit novels, too many long speeches where characters describe their feelings for each other or list all the things that they've learned or all the reasons they find fault with other characters just don't ring true for me. Too many long speeches from the characters also make me feel like I'm being preached at.

I want to read conversations with stuff that people would actually say in real life. I also want to read a story about situations that I can actually relate to, not the kind of stuff that soap operas are made of.

3. A chick lit novel should not resemble an episode of Jackass or Ridiculousness. I've never understood why people like those shows. What's so entertaining about guys who light their pants on fire or hurl themselves from rooftops without any protective gear or jab sharp objects at their faces? Self-destructive behavior just isn't fun for me.

By a similar token, Mlynowski and Jacobs wrote in their book that the main character shouldn't be the type of person who keeps making stupid choices without learning anything from them. I was reading a chick lit novel recently, where the protagonist kept doing one dumb thing after another. Even though her choices didn't lead to anything good, she just kept going. She didn't even try to change her behavior until she'd run out of other options. I just kept shaking my head and saying, "Oh, come on!" That made it really hard to like her as a character, and that made it even harder to like the story as a whole.

That's why it's really important to me to be able to like the character, not to be constantly annoyed by her. There are enough people like that in real life; I don't want them to invade my favorite books too. Fortunately, a lot of chick lit authors I've read know how to tell their stories and describe their characters without making me want to fling the books across the room. They're the kind of authors that I can learn from and enjoy. They're also the kind of authors that I would want to be friends with.

What about you? What kinds of things do you like or dislike about fictional characters in your favorite novels?

Happy New Year, everyone!

My Christmas Gift to Myself

2011-12-16T01:03:00.000-06:00

I just started my Christmas shopping this week, because I've been writing my dissertation, teaching, grading papers, meeting with my professors and students, working extra hours for my website job, and watching Law and Order reruns. I only go shopping on weekdays; it's easier and less crowded during the week rather than the weekend, when most of the tourists come out. That way, I'm much less likely to start head-butting any tourists that get in my way.

This year, I've decided to give a small gift to myself, because I've been going through some difficult situations lately. Not to sound too materialistic or anything, but I think that a Christmas gift might make me feel better.

I've been thinking about all the things that are on my Christmas wish list. Here are a few examples:

The guys from The Big Bang Theory would move in next door. I think they'd be fun to hang out with, and they'd always be up for eating takeout with me. They could also probably fix my laptop for me, like one of them did for Penny, the girl next door. Since they're all so smart, they could probably build a new computer for me.

A handsome, respectful, and kind guy (perhaps one who looks like Josh Kloss, the guy from the Katy Perry video) who says stuff like, "I hate it when girls are too thin. More chocolate?"

Free coffee for a year. Or better yet, my own personal Starbucks cafe, and only the people who don't camp out with their laptops while nursing one cup of coffee for four hours will be allowed to hang out there. And there won't be any rude guys trying to steal my table by putting their laptops on it after I get up for two seconds to grab a napkin. And there will always be enough glazed doughnuts, because whenever Starbucks runs out of them, I'm tempted to bite the hand of the person who takes the last doughnut, as well as the hands of the guys who try to take my table (I don't, though. But if I was a vampire, I would.)

But since I can't have any of these things, I decided to give myself one thing that I can have: time to write. I haven't worked on my novel in weeks, partly because of the difficult situations going on in my life, and partly because I've had so much work to do. Writing has always been very soothing and therapeutic for me, and it's the one thing that always makes me happy. So I think that one reason I've been so stressed out lately is because I haven't had time to write.

I went to a coffeehouse and wrote more than a thousand words, and I felt better than I had in a long time. It felt good to do something that was just for me, and it only cost a few bucks.

What about you? What's on your Christmas wish list?

My Greatest Fears

2011-12-06T09:44:00.001-06:00

We all have our greatest fears. We're afraid of dying and losing our family and friends. There's also the fear of walking by ourselves on the street at night because of all the bad things that could happen. There's the fear of war, illness, unemployment, etc. There's also the fear that when the aliens come to Earth, they'll spend a couple of hours watching reality shows and say, "Well, if this is what humans are like, then never mind," before climbing into their spaceship and flying away, and then they'll never make me their queen.

We also have our personal fears, many of which we hide from other people. Fear can be a good thing, because it can motivate us to protect ourselves and take action so that what we're afraid of won't happen. But it can also cause us to avoid anything that's risky, and it can make us put limitations on our lives and ourselves.

1. I'm afraid that I will never get married and have a family, and I'll never know what it's like to find happiness with someone I'm meant to be with. I'm afraid that I'm not meant to be with anyone.

2. I'm afraid that living in Chicago for so long has turned me into an angry, cynical person, the kind of person who says, "HEY! Turn down your TV or I WILL play Britney Spears' music all night! I have ALL of her albums, you know!" and "If you try to push me out of the way one more time, you'll be wearing my coffee on your shirt!" I'm afraid that that small-town girl that I used to be, the one who used to be thrilled by all the wonderful things that Chicago has to offer, is gone forever.

3. I'm afraid that even though I've spent years in graduate school, I won't get a full-time teaching position at a good school because I haven't accomplished as much as my classmates have. I hate the idea of failing to accomplish my goals even after I've done all this work and made all these sacrifices.

4. I'm afraid of cats, because they all seem to go into ATTACK mode whenever I'm around them.

5. I'm afraid that I'll never publish any of my stories, and I'm afraid that even if I did that no one would like them.

6. I'm afraid of clowns, especially Ronald McDonald. His big red mouth always makes me think of the way that Little Red Riding Hood says to the disguised wolf, "Why Grandmother, what big teeth you have!" Only in this case, it would be, "Why Ronald McDonald, what a big mouth you have!" And he'd say, "The better to scare the hell out of you with, my dear." And then he would give this big, scary smile right before he started chasing me and I would throw french fries at him.

7. I'm afraid that online dating has made me lose hope that I'll ever find the right guy, because of all the profiles that say stuff like "I don't believe in monogamy" and "I love boobs".

8. I'm afraid that all the students who challenge my authority, blame me for their bad grades and refuse to take responsibility for their own work, text and Tweet during class even after I told them to stop, and keep asking me to "edit" their papers for them will make me overlook all the good students who make teaching worthwhile.

9. I'm afraid that I'll be struggling to support myself for the rest of my life, and I'll have to keep working minimum-wage jobs that don't even pay enough money to buy new shoes that I have to stand all day in. I'm also afraid that working all of these awful jobs will make me yell at a customer one day; I'll probably say something like, "Do you get extra points in hell every time you act like that?"

10. I'm afraid that I'll never have the courage to be truly honest with the people in my life and tell them the secrets that I've kept from them.

What about you? What are you afraid of? How do you deal with your fear?

On (Not) Staying Young

2011-11-25T09:46:00.002-06:00

Okay. So am I the only one who is on Twilight overload and wants to stand up and yell, "Death to all vampires!" before breaking out the wooden stakes or burning torches or whatever it is that will make all the Breaking Dawn commercials stop airing every five minutes?

I didn't read the Twilight books, and I only watched one of the movies. I didn't like it. It just seemed too melodramatic to me, and I kept cringing whenever Edward said anything that was supposedly romantic. I kept thinking, Real guys aren't like that.

And maybe it's because I haven't watched the other movies, but is it just me or does Edward not have any flaws (except for the whole undead thing)? It bothers me when characters are too perfect. There are some things about guys that bug me, like how they act like they won the game when their favorite teams win, or when they do that chest-bumping thing with each other when they get excited. But on the other hand, I wouldn't want to date a guy who was perfect. Then I'd feel like I wasn't good enough, because I am definitely far from perfect. And I think that our flaws are part of what makes us interesting.

But I'm not trying to criticize or judge anyone who does like Twilight. We like what we like, right? And I will admit that I thought David Boreanaz was cute as Angel; somehow he seemed more "human" than Edward does. (But that's just my opinion.) And believe me, it's not like I'm immune to that whole romantic melodrama either. When I was a teenager, I was obsessed with boy bands. I actually believed that the guys meant every word that they sang, and I liked to pretend that they were singing for me. But then I grew up. And when I was watching Twilight, it kind of seemed like a really long boy band music video. Except there was no synchronized dancing.

I've never really gotten caught up in the whole vampire craze. I don't see what's so attractive about some guy who is really pale, hundreds of years older than me, and murmurs sweet nothings in a girl's ear right before he makes that hissing sound and sinks his teeth into her neck. Not sexy.

I read somewhere that some women like vampires because they're the alpha males: strong, powerful, and handsome. I think I'd just feel nervous around a vampire all the time, because even though he may promise to love me forever (literally), there's also that whole drinking blood and instinct to kill thing.

Or maybe people like vampires because they get to stay young forever. I think that women in particular are under a lot of pressure to look young. Why else would plastic surgeons be making so much money?

I suppose I'm lucky because I've always looked young for my age. When I worked at the Tourist Trap last summer, most of my coworkers were in their late teens or early twenties. They were all surprised when I said that I was thirty; they said that I looked like I was their age. Maybe it's because I don't wear makeup or nice clothes (I can't afford it). Or maybe it's because I eat Froot Loops and listen to Miley Cyrus.

I've been doing the online dating thing off and on for two and a half years now, and I've joined four dating sites during that time. One thing I've learned from all of those sites is that the men (old and young) typically prefer to date younger women. The guys in their twenties usually don't want to date anyone over the age of thirty; the guys in their thirties are willing to date women who are ten or fifteen years younger than them, but not two years older.

I was watching an episode of Millionaire Matchmaker, and there was a fifty-eight year old client who was looking for love. He said he only wanted to date women who were in their twenties; he also said that he might be willing to date someone who was in her thirties, as long as she was fit and gorgeous, even though he was far from gorgeous. He said it was because he wanted to have children. Right. I'm sure that was the only reason.

And of course, women do it too. There are plenty of cougars out there. If they want to date someone who's young enough to be their son, that's their prerogative, I guess. But teaching twenty-year-old guys on a daily basis has pretty much eliminated any possibility that I will ever be a cougar, partly because I've seen several of them throw tantrums (complete with stomping their feet and screaming) when they don't get A's.

There are some things I miss about being young. When I was a kid, Christmas was a lot more fun because I believed in Santa and I got to play in the snow. Now that I'm older, I usually just associate Christmas with last-minute shopping and navigating the crowds on Michigan Avenue while muttering, "Don't kick the tourists. Don't kick the tourists. Don't kick the tourists," because they take up all the space on the sidewalk and move too slowly.

Growing older is scary, though. It scares me that someday I won't have as much energy to go to the gym four or five times a week. I can't imagine looking in the mirror and seeing a bunch of wrinkles in my face. (My hair's already started turning white, though.)

But if I was given the choice, I wouldn't want to stay young forever. Just imagine what that would be like. You'd have to watch all the people you love grow old and die. Would you want to go to high school again and again? I wouldn't. High school was full of parties that I was never invited to and cliques who acted like being popular and having a boyfriend were the only things that mattered. Grad school is also full of cliques and parties that I'm not invited to. The difference is, now I'm old enough to know that there are other things that matter more.

I also wouldn't want to be in my twenties again just so guys would want to date me. If I'm going to be with someone, I'd want to know it's because he likes me, not because he likes the fact that I'm young. (But I have to say, it does really bother me that a lot of guys in their thirties and forties would probably think I was too "old".)

I wouldn't want to be a teenager again because I wouldn't be as independent as I am now. I like living in my own apartment, paying my own rent and bills, and doing what I want to do.

So I'd have to say no if a vampire offered to make me young forever. (Or maybe I'd just run away while waving a wooden stake at him and screaming, "Get back! Get back!") I'm not really big on werewolves, either, because I don't like it when men have too much facial hair. (I think they should shave their legs too. It's only fair! If women have to do it, they should too! Or maybe I'm just weird like that.) On the other hand, I will admit that I don't mind it too much when Taylor Lautner takes his shirt off.

I think that growing older means accepting that things can't stay the same forever. It means taking responsibility for your actions instead of playing the blame game. It's about going through experiences that change you and make you see the world and other people differently. It's about taking care of yourself instead of expecting someone (like a good-looking vampire) to swoop in, rescue you, and solve all your problems for you. It's about growing up.

What about you? If you could stay young forever (though not necessarily as a vampire), or if you could go back to a certain age, would you?

My Happy (Alternate) Ending

2011-11-16T00:44:00.002-06:00

In the story that I'm working on right now, there is a love triangle. When I was writing the first draft, I wrote several different alternate endings to see which one worked best: one ending where the girl ends up with "the right guy", one ending in which the girl chooses "the wrong guy", one where she ends up alone, and one where she decides, "To hell with men," and goes off to become a crime-fighting superhero, seeking out the guys who say insincerely, "I'll call you," as her first targets.

When it comes to writing, I've always been a pantser. (I have to say, though, "pantser" makes me think of those people who pull other people's pants down as a joke. But I don't actually do that. I've wanted to do that, though, particularly to the people who cut in front of me in line.) I like the idea of not knowing how the story's going to end, because then I get to be surprised.

It's made me think about what it would be like if we could write (or rewrite) our ending in our own lives, so to speak. What if we could actually go back in time and change unhappy/dissatisfying/annoying/weird endings to certain experiences? Would our lives be different as a result? Would we be different?

I know they say that you have to learn from your mistakes, so sometimes it's worth it to not get the happy ending that you were hoping for. For example, I've learned that some people don't love boy bands as much as I used to, so they probably wouldn't want to hear about how I can name that boy band in three notes or how I jumped up and down and screamed like a banshee along with all the other teenage girls when I saw the Backstreet Boys perform live.

But there are some endings in my life that I wish I could rewrite. Here are a few examples:

In my happy ending, none of my students would bring their papers to my office and expect me to tell them exactly what to "fix" and what to write so that they'll get A's (FYI: that's exactly how they phrase it). They would come up with their own ideas and learn that writing is not about filling in the blanks.

The undergrads would actually want to spend more time reading novels by authors like Jhumpa Lahiri and Ernest Hemingway instead of Facebook postings by their friends and Tweets by reality show stars who are famous for spending their parents' money or throwing tantrums in public.

My students would never blame me when they get bad grades. They'd never say it was because I wasn't a good teacher or because I graded them too harshly. They'd say stuff like, "Hey! I guess I really should go to class every day!" or "Wow, I never thought that sleeping in class would make me miss out on important information. I guess I shouldn't do that anymore!" or "I'm sorry that I told you that I know more about literature than you do. I was wrong. To make up for it, I'll clean out your office and do your grocery shopping for you!" or "Cell phones are the devil's toys! I will never use my cell phone ever again!"

All the guys who said they would call but never did finally would call. They'd say stuff like, "I'm sorry I thought I was hot enough to get a model. It turns out that I'm not. None of those Victoria's Secret girls ever called me back! Now I know how you felt when I didn't call you! Will you give me another chance?"

Then I would say, "NO! Kiss this, losers!" And then I'd hang up on them. And if this was a really happy ending, they'd go on dates with beautiful women who spend the whole time flirting with waiters and reciting long monologues about their lives without letting them get a word in, so that the guys really would know exactly how I felt when I dated them.

The guys I've met on online dating sites who pull disappearing acts would be effectively "punished" by being forced to read through all the creepy e-mails that guys have sent me, such as the guy who wrote, "I'll show you my naked pictures if you show me yours" (guess how quickly I blocked him). Then maybe they would stop acting like jerks and realize that they shouldn't get women's hopes up by pretending to be nice guys who are actually interested in them.

In my happy ending, I'd know just what to say to all the people who act condescendingly towards me because I don't make as much money as they do or haven't accomplished as much as they have. I'd say, "So what if you think you're better than me? You're the only person in the world who does!" Then I'd rip open my shirt, revealing my crime-fighting superhero costume, and I'd leave them in the dust as I flew away.

My department would make sure that all the graduate students have enough money to live on, so that I don't have to work a zillion low-paying, part-time jobs and have a lot less time to study than the students who are supported by loans or spouses with full-time jobs. Then when I go to stores, I wouldn't automatically start reshelving books or folding clothes before I think to myself, "Wait! I don't actually work here."

When I have to work yet another retail job, my employers would say, "You know what? The customer is not always right!" Then when (not if) customers are rude to me, I'd get to make them do my job for a week, so that by the end of the week they'll have pulled all of their hair out and I'll find them lying on the floor of the store, curled up in the fetal position.

In my happy ending, no one would nag or criticize me for being the way that I am, because they would think that being an obsessive, neurotic workaholic is cool.

What about you? If you could rewrite the ending to something that happened to you, would you? What does your happy ending look like?

The Rudeness of Strangers

2011-11-11T10:25:00.001-06:00

About a month ago I moved into a studio apartment in order to save money on rent. After living in a one-bedroom apartment for several years, living in a studio took some getting used to. My refrigerator is so small that I can't fit a frozen pizza into the freezer unless I wedge it in there diagonally. Apparently the rental company doesn't believe that it's necessary for the tenants to keep enough food in their apartment, or maybe the company thinks that we should eat fast food all the time. Also, sometimes I feel like I'm living in the middle of a really bad episode of The Real World, because my neighbors like to party and get drunk a lot.

When I was moving out of my old apartment, I hired a moving company to help me move. I'd gone to the alderman's office a couple days before to get signs telling drivers not to park by the side of the street, so that the movers would have enough room to park their truck. But apparently several drivers in Chicago seem to think that those "No Parking" signs actually mean "Yes! PLEASE park here!" or "It's perfectly okay to ignore the sign and irritate the hell out of other people!" or "Take up as much room as you like! It's not like anyone's trying to MOVE OUT or anything!"

I had a feeling that people would try to park in the designated area, since they did that the last time I moved to a new apartment. So before the movers showed up, I parked myself by the side of the street and scared off drivers who tried to park there.

I'm not lying when I say that I started jumping up and down and shrieking incoherently anytime anyone tried to park by the side of the street. I looked and sounded like Homer Simpson when someone steals his doughnuts, or perhaps a cavewoman who hadn't had her coffee yet. Only instead of waving a club around I kept waving a Dustbuster threateningly at the drivers, because I'd been cleaning my apartment. I don't know why I thought the Dustbuster would scare them. I think I might have been sending out a message that said something like, "Park here and I'll whap you over the head with my Dustbuster!" or "Park here and I'll vacuum the carpet in your car for you!"

The movers were in the process of moving my furniture to their truck when a woman who looked like she was a few years younger than me suddenly walked into my apartment. The door was open in order to let the movers come and go. I'd never met or seen her before, but she asked if my movers could take her mattress to her apartment, which was a few blocks away.

I was reluctant to say yes, to say the least. The moving company was not cheap, and they were going to charge me an additional twenty-five dollars if the movers went even just fifteen minutes beyond the designated time frame. But the girl kept insisting, so like a fool, I said yes.

The woman and her boyfriend were really rude, though. I said, "Next time you guys should hire your own moving company." The boyfriend acted like I was a jerk for being upset, because he said, "Well, there won't be a next time, because we'll never see you again."

They could tell I didn't want them to use the truck, though, so they said that they'd changed their minds about the mattress. But then I felt bad about being so territorial, so I said the movers would still move the mattress for them; the movers had said it would be okay anyway.

I went back inside for a few minutes, and when I came out their mattress was still in the truck. The woman and her boyfriend, however, were gone. I asked the movers where they went, and they didn't know. I didn't know their names or their phone numbers, so I had no way of reaching them.

Apparently, the losers had dumped their mattress on me and expected me to figure out how to dispose of it. Perhaps they saw me coming back out and whispered to each other, "She's coming! Make a run for it!" before running off gleefully to tell a certain guy dressed in red that they'd succeeded in making someone mad again.

And can I just say that this was the second time one of my neighbors dumped a mattress on me? The first time was when I opened my door to find a mattress blocking my door; one of my neighbors hadn't bothered to throw it out properly so they just left it there.

It was at that point that I wanted to start jumping up and down and shriek incoherently again. I asked my building's super about the couple, and she said they didn't even live in the building. They were picking up the mattress from a former tenant. She gave me the tenant's phone number.

I called the tenant and left a message, but she didn't call me back. I called her again, and she hung up on me! Then she turned off her phone so I couldn't reach her. Apparently she must have thought that not having a conscience was what all the cool kids did. At this point, I was so angry that I wanted to go on some kind of Dustbuster rampage. The movers were really nice, though. They found a way to dispose of the mattress after they helped me move into my new apartment. I gave each of them a good tip and bottled water for being so helpful.

Things didn't improve when I got to my new studio. Even though I'd spent the entire day before cleaning out my old apartment so that I could get my security deposit back, apparently the tenant who'd been living in the studio before me thought that "cleaning" meant "leave rotting food all over the kitchen floor". I called my building's super to tell him that the toilet wasn't flushing properly and the shower kept dripping. He was irritated that I'd called him on a Saturday afternoon. He said that since it wasn't an "emergency", I should just leave a note for him and he'd get to it sometime the following week.

It's days like those that make me lose a little bit of faith in people. It bothers me that people like that can get away with treating other people badly. Occasionally I'll see something that gives me hope, like a guy I saw the other day who helped someone in a wheelchair cross the street, or the good people on Animal Cops who rescue abused animals. But sometimes I just want to start shrieking like a cavewoman again.

How do you deal with rude people?

Note to Self

2011-11-07T12:02:00.000-06:00

1. If you run out of milk in the morning, remember that Coke is not a good substitute. If you drink too much soda before 8 A.M., you may end up trying to climb the walls of your classroom. And then your students will really think you're weird.

2. Do not stay up late watching reruns of crime dramas. If you do, you may end up blurting out lines from the episodes during class. Then your students may or may not become alarmed when you suddenly start yelling, "'Facebook made me do it' is not a suitable defense!" and "Put your hands in the air! You're under arrest!"

3. Get all of your students' cell phone numbers. That way, when they start texting in class (five minutes AFTER you told them to put their phones AWAY), you can send them messages that say stuff like, "HEY! All eyes on ME!" or "If you want to see your iPod again, you'll do what I say."

4. When the students ask why they're watching a movie in class, tell them that the film provides context for what they're studying, or that watching the film version will help them better understand the novel that they're reading. Don't tell them it's because you accidentally left your lesson plan at home and the only thing in your bookbag is a notebook filled with doodles of smashed cell phones.

5. When the undergrads start packing up their bags and getting up to leave BEFORE you've dismissed the class, resist the urge to give them an extra assignment: read Snooki's novel and watch a Jersey Shore marathon of Seasons 1-4. (On the other hand, they may or may not become too terrified to ever disrespect you again if you make them do this assignment. Or they might just start fist-pumping in class.)

6. Since several people don't bother to bring their books to class on a regular basis (yet always remember to bring their cell phones, iPods, and snacks), make them spend the whole hour writing "I will stop making my teacher freak out" at least one hundred times in their notebooks.

7. During your office hours, let your classes know that you're available to meet with them. But keep your office door closed. That way, if any of your fellow instructors happen to walk by, they won't know that you're not grading papers or making lesson plans; you're (gasp!) reading books without footnotes in them.

8. When your department says that all the instructors have to attend ANOTHER mandatory workshop on teaching, even though you started teaching at that school before your hair started turning white, resist the urge to blurt out what you're really thinking during the workshop. That is, don't say stuff like, "It's because of these workshops that I've started having nightmares about thesis statements," and "You can take away my favorite textbooks, but you'll never take my FREEDOM!"

9. When some of the undergrads e-mail you to complain about their grades, don't say, "You know what else isn't fair? The fact that I'm going to have to wait at least one or two more years before Britney releases another album. But you don't see me complaining about it, do you?"

10. When your students keep asking you to set up extra appointments outside of your office hours, which means that you have to come to campus on your days off, make time to help them. But learn to say no when it's necessary. Don't fidget during the meetings and say, "I'm missing Law and Order right now," or "I think my grandmother just got sick. Would you excuse me?" and then run away before anyone can stop you.

What kinds of notes do you make to yourself when you're at work or when you're going about your dailies? What's a typical workday like for you?

Why I Write

2011-10-31T10:11:00.001-05:00

In my small Midwestern hometown, there were two things that people talked about a lot: football and farming. But for me, almost every sport was dodgeball, because I always ended up getting hit by the ball, even when I was watching the game. In an attempt to fit in, I joined the track team. They put me in the relay race first, but I kept accidentally tripping the other girls, including the runners on my own team. It was like watching a stack of human dominoes fall over. The coach finally had me running the half mile, so that I would be by myself and thus decrease the likelihood of knocking anyone over. But I came in last in almost every race, except for one race where I came in second to last.

When I wrote, I didn't have to worry about people making fun of the fact that I couldn't run very fast, except when I was running away from the ball. I didn't have to worry about being picked last for the team. None of my main characters in my stories are athletes.

When I was younger, I wanted to believe that the fantasy worlds that writers created were real. I wanted to believe that the people in fairy tales really existed, and that there was such a thing as a happy ending. I wanted to believe that there was something else out there, something more for me.

When I wrote, I could escape to a different world that was all my own, away from the kids who made fun of me or ignored me at school, away from their parents who made comments to my parents about how I was so shy and quiet and read too much, away from the town that was my home but where I never really fit in. I could create my own world with my own characters, and I could write my own happy ending. In my world, I always had the last word.

In high school, the guys teased me, ignored me, or asked me for help with their homework. When everyone else went to prom, I went to Dairy Queen. I pretended that it didn't hurt me when my friends told me all about prom night and showed me pictures of themselves with their dates. I wrote down everything that I felt and everything that I didn't have the courage to say to everyone else.

I grew older, and I started writing chick lit. I used my own failed attempts at finding love as the basis for my stories. I wrote about the bad dates and the guys who didn't call. I wrote about wanting to punch the TV whenever one of those online dating commercials that featured happy couples came on. I wrote about the guy who posted a picture of himself French-kissing a giraffe (I wish I was making that up) in his online dating profile, the guy who wrote that he believed he was a cat in a former life, and the guy who wrote that he was looking for "an exceptionally beautiful woman with a morally relaxed attitude towards dating". In real life, these guys were just weird...or disturbing. But writing about them made the whole experience of online dating funny and more interesting.

After I got my master's degree, I started teaching at different schools around the city and working in retail at night and on the weekends. It left little time for a social life. But at least once or twice a week I would go to a coffeehouse and write for an hour or two. It was something that was just for me, and it was a relief to write fiction after spending hours grading papers or making lesson plans. I wrote about how overwhelmed and exhausted I felt about working seven days a week, and I wrote about how I felt like my twenties were passing me by. Those trips to the coffeehouse gave me something to look forward to, and my writing kept my work from completely taking over my life.

If I had never become a writer, or if I had stopped writing years ago, my life would be completely different. I would be completely different. It would always feel like something was missing from my life. That's why I can't stop writing. I don't want to stop.

What about you? Why do you write? What motivates you to keep writing?

Side note: Check out Theresa Milstein's blog, Theresa's Tales of Teaching Tribulations and Typing Teen Texts! She is hosting a Halloween Haunting; this contest gives people the opportunity to promote their own blogs and check out other people's blogs. The prize is a free book!

Thanks, But No Thanks

2011-10-24T12:02:00.002-05:00

Recently I read a letter in the advice column "Dear Amy"; the letter was written by a man who had lost more than 100 pounds and had joined an online dating site. He said that he'd gotten several messages from ladies who were overweight. He wrote, "My profile is very specific about my eating and exercise habits. I always answer any response I get, and I am always polite and try and let these women know that I am not interested in dating a large woman. I have lived that lifestyle and do not want to go back to it."

The guy was apparently surprised that he received "a lot of hateful and abusive responses". It made me wonder what was in his profile. Did he write something like, "Unless you go jogging every day and think celery sticks are fattening, don't write to me"? Or maybe he wrote, "I spend a lot of time lifting weights and admiring my muscular physique in the mirror." His letter made me think of one of the reasons that chemistry.com turned me off. Several of the guys on that site actually specified in their profile that they didn't want to date anyone who was fat. One guy wrote, "I hope you're not the type of girl who wheezes when she climbs the stairs." I mean, really?

The guy who wrote that letter says that he doesn't want to date "a large woman" because he doesn't want to go back to "that lifestyle", which made me wonder if he was afraid that the woman would say something like, "If you don't eat that pizza, you can forget about getting a kiss good night!"

I think it was less about a fear of "that lifestyle" and more about his belief that his new figure and his winning personality would win over supermodels.

He thought he was being polite by writing rejection letters, but "Dear Amy" set him straight. She quoted Bela Gandhi, a dating coach, who said, "'No response' is the right thing to do when you're not interested — it's the polite way of saying, 'No thanks!'"

I have to agree with her, especially because I just got a similar message from some guy on okcupid. I'd sent him an e-mail yesterday, and he wrote back to say, "I don't think we're a match." He didn't say why, though he did answer the questions I'd asked in my message to him. (Whenever I e-mail a guy for the first time, I say a little bit about myself and I ask a couple of questions, so that he'll have something to respond to.) I don't see why he bothered to answer the questions. It wouldn't matter if he had said that he was president of the M&M corporation; the point was that he wasn't interested.

I've never gotten a "rejection e-mail" from a guy before. If a guy doesn't answer my message, I just assume that he's not interested. If a guy e-mails me and I'm not interested in writing back, I don't respond either. I also block him from e-mailing again, because some guys repeatedly message me; apparently they think that acting like stalkers is attractive.

On the other hand, there have been a few times when I've been tempted to write my own rejection e-mails. Here are some examples:

Thanks for writing! I have to say, though, that I don't think we're compatible. I'm really not interested in being a "female playmate" for you and your wife.

I just got your message. I couldn't help noticing that you wrote that you said you only liked "most" of my profile, which made me wonder about the parts that you didn't like. Was it because I wrote that I like to read in my spare time, and you wrote that you'd rather just see the film versions of books?

I totally understand that your children, your ex-wife, and your friends are very important to you. However, you really didn't need to include a list of all of these people in your profile with the note that "they will always be more important to me than you." I just kind of assumed that they would be.

I was just wondering if you had any pictures of your face that you could send me. In your profile, the only pictures of you featured nothing but your bare chest.

I noticed that you didn't write anything in your profile. You did post several pictures of yourself with various women sitting on your lap, though.

You seem like a really nice guy, and I'd be interested in meeting you. As soon as you get a job and move out of your parents' basement, give me a call.

Of course, I don't actually write any messages like this. Nobody likes to get rejected, and I think that sending a "rejection e-mail" is just pouring salt on the wound. When I first saw the message from that guy in my inbox, I thought, "Yay! He wrote back! Maybe this could lead to something good." And then when I read the rejection I thought, "Oh. He doesn't want to meet me. Must go inhale some ice cream now."

I did, however, write one rejection e-mail. I got a message from some guy, and we started IMing each other. The conversation quickly got creepy, however. He asked me if I'd ever be willing to hook up with him and another guy, but he said that "it would be all about you." I said NO. He wrote back, "Just admit you're boring. It'll save you time and not waste others."

I probably shouldn't have responded, but I did. I wrote him an e-mail that said, "I'm not boring. I just don't sleep with losers." And then I blocked that jerk from messaging me.

It's incidents like these that have made me think it's time to take another break from online dating, at least for a while.

What do you think? Do you think that people on online dating sites should write back to say that they're not interested, or should they not write back at all?

What Makes Me Happy

2011-10-17T10:15:00.000-05:00

1. Writing. When I write, I don't feel lonely because my characters have become real to me. I get to step into their world and eavesdrop on their conversations. In their world, I don't feel angry, stressed, or tired. I just feel happy because I'm doing what I've always wanted to do.

2. The possibility of finding a way to program the televisions of all my neighbors who think it is okay to blast their TVs at top volume so that their televisions won't blast anymore and will play nothing but Beavis and Butthead (why oh WHY are they bringing that show back?). Then it will be all Beavis and Butthead, all the time.

3. That "a-ha!" moment students get when they finally understand what I've been teaching them, which makes me think that all my efforts are finally paying off and maybe they'll finally start reading something other than reality stars' Tweets.

4. The possibility of finding a way to hack into the profiles of all the guys who pulled disappearing acts on me, and writing stuff like, "I love watching romantic comedies and totally won't mind if you make me watch them with you," and "Who doesn't want to shop for shoes?"

5. Sitting by Lake Michigan and watching the water move, which always makes me feel peaceful in a way that the rest of the city does not.

6. Writing in coffeehouses. Even though I prefer to work in silence when I am at the library or at home (because really, I don't want to hear my neighbor yell out, "I rule! Yeah!" every time he and his girlfriend "get together"), I don't mind the music, the sounds of the baristas making coffee, or the chatter of the other patrons. Maybe all that coffee and chocolate temporarily dulls my senses so that I'm less likely to shriek, "For the love of God, SHUT UP!" I've gotten some of my best writing done at cafes.

7. The possibility that my school will say it is okay for teachers to wrestle their students' cell phones away from them and fling the phones out the window, so that the students will yell, "My cell phone! NOOOOO!!!"

8. Reading a really good book, the kind that I finish in two or three days because I can't put it down. Reading good writing also makes me feel less lonely, because occasionally I'll read a line that makes me realize that I'm not the only one who feels that way. And then it feels like I've made a connection with the writer, even if I've never met him or her.

9. The possibility of finding a way to get ahold of all the iPods and iPhones of the people who think it is okay to blast their music through their earphones, so that everyone else on the train can hear it, and programming the iPods and iPhones so that they won't blast anymore and will play nothing but Rebecca Black's "Friday", over and over again.

10. The idea of finally finishing graduate school, which consumed my life for the better part of my twenties and now is threatening to take over my thirties, and finding a full-time teaching job at a good school in a different state. Then I can finally earn a good living without having to work three jobs and begin living the rest of my life.

What about you? What makes you happy?

The Pros and Cons of Online Dating, Part 2

2011-10-12T13:45:00.000-05:00

If I cancel my online dating membership...

1. I won't get any more messages that say stuff like "I'm going to be in Chicago for a couple days and I'm looking to kill a few hours. Interested?"

2. I won't see any more naked/half-naked pictures that guys post in their profiles, which make me think that people should keep themselves covered up as much as possible, so that other people are less likely to throw up all over their computers.

3. I won't read profiles where the guys list all the reasons that girls shouldn't contact them, such as "If you're not willing to spend every weekend watching sports with my friends and me, don't e-mail me," and "If you expect me to be anything like Jacob or Edward, don't e-mail me."

4. I won't read profiles that say stuff like, "I know my profile says drugs often but I just smoke weed."

5. I won't read any more profiles that make me shriek, "Doesn't anyone use the spell check anymore?"

6. I won't have to keep spending so much money on dates, because I feel bad about making the guy pay for everything. Then I'll have more money for important expenses, like rent, groceries, and Starbucks.

7. I won't have to go to movies that guys would actually be willing to see, movies where I spend the majority of the time covering my eyes and whispering, "Has the guy stopped bleeding yet?"

8. I won't keep waiting by the phone for guys who just aren't that into me.

If I don't cancel my membership...
1. I might meet someone whose company I enjoy and who makes me happy.

So far the only guys I've gone on dates with through okcupid the second time around are the guy who creeped me out a little and the British guy. The British guy texted me back two days after I sent him a text. I'd suggested that we go out a third time, and he said yes. But then I never heard from him again. I'm not sure what happened that made him change his mind, but I wish that he hadn't texted me back at all and gotten my hopes up for nothing.

Four more guys on okcupid pulled disappearing acts after the first or second e-mail. When I calculate how many disappearing acts I've dealt with on okcupid the first and second time around, as well as on eharmony and chemistry, I come up with about thirty disappearing acts. And that makes me feel tired. (And angry.) Another guy took four days to respond to my first e-mail, and more than a week to respond to my second one. (I haven't decided whether or not to write back, because it bothers me that it took him so long to respond.)

Part of me thinks that I should keep up with online dating, at least for a while longer, because who knows? Something good could happen. But I've been doing the online dating thing off and on for two years, and I'm tired. I'm tired of reading through profiles, sending and reading e-mails, and dealing with disappearing acts from losers who apparently get some kind of sick ego boost from leading on lonely single women. I'm starting to think that maybe the single life isn't so bad after all. But a part of me is afraid to give up hope.

Two Dates and He's Out

2011-09-27T23:45:00.000-05:00

Recently I went out with another guy that I met on okcupid. This guy had just recently moved here from London. I must confess that one of the reasons I e-mailed him was because he was from England; I've always liked British accents, which I guess makes me a little shallow.

But I will add that a guy with an expensive sports car doesn't impress me very much. I get motion sickness on the swings, so I'm pretty sure that a ride in a sports car would end with me throwing up all over my date. A guy with a large bank account? Meh. If I cared that much about money, I wouldn't have become an English teacher, because I'm never going to get rich with this job. There are some perfectly nice rich guys, but there are other guys who let their wealth go to their heads. Just look at Donald Trump; his wealth not only went to his head but also to his hair.

But a guy with a great smile AND a British accent? Yes, please!

We went out for coffee and then dinner about a week and a half ago. It was honestly one of the best first dates I've had in a long time. He's a grad student like me (though he's in a different field), and we had a lot in common. There weren't any awkward pauses in our conversation, and I didn't feel nervous around him. We talked for hours. I barely checked my watch, unlike one of the dates I went on two years ago, where I checked my watch approximately twenty-three times.

We texted each other back and forth for the following week, and then this past Friday we went out for pizza. I probably shouldn't have suggested that we go to Giordanos, because I love the stuffed pizza there and I could've eaten a lot more than I did on the date. But I suggested that he take home the leftovers, even though in my mind I kept thinking, "Step away from the pizza! Mine!"

Then we went to a show at iO, which used to be called ImprovOlympic, in Wrigleyville. Before the show started and during intermission, there was this guy who kept chatting up my date. Then when he went to get a drink, the guy he was sitting with came back to his seat and also started chatting up my date. I guess they were intrigued by his accent, because they both asked him about England and told him about fun places to go to in Chicago. They saw me sitting there but kept talking to him (without talking to me).

At first I thought it might just be that Midwestern friendliness that makes a lot of people (especially people in Illinois) start up conversations with strangers. I myself do it sometimes. But on the other hand, I couldn't help thinking, Hey! Get your own date, MISTER! Not to mention Wrigleyville is right next to Boystown, so it's possible that that friendliness might actually have been flirtatiousness.

Watching the show (which was hilarious) made me think that dating is a lot like improvisation. There's no script, and it often feels like you're making it up as you go along. You have to read your partner's body language, and you're put on the spot to figure out the right things to do or say to keep your date interested.

At the end of the date, I was disappointed that he didn't kiss me, especially because he didn't kiss me on the first date either. I did say in a recent post that I prefer to take things slow when it comes to dating, and that is true. But I think that a kiss at the end of a second date is okay, especially if it's from someone I really like. (If a guy I don't like tries to kiss me, on the other hand, I either make up some lie about how I think I might be coming down with mono or I quickly turn my face to the side when he leans in.)

We said goodbye at the train station in Wrigleyville because we were taking different trains. And Wrigleyville on a Friday night isn't exactly the most romantic place to be, especially when there are random guys running up and down the streets yelling, "WHOOO! Go Cubs! I am going to get SO DRUNK tonight!" There are other guys who think that the grass in front of apartment buildings is a reasonable substitute for a bathroom.

I suppose I could have made the first move, but I already e-mailed him first on okcupid, and I was the one who suggested that we meet in person for the first date. I was also the one who suggested that we go out a second time. Besides, I'm not very good at making the first move when it comes to kissing; I'm always afraid that my aim will be off and I'll end up kissing his ear or his shoulder.

He texted me the next day, but it was only one text message in response to a text that I sent him. I didn't say anything about a third date this time, because I was hoping that he would bring it up. He didn't. So yesterday I texted him to invite him to a movie next week. He never answered.

I suppose I should have seen the signs. He deleted his account on okcupid soon after our first date. I asked him why and he said that online dating was too annoying and took up a lot of time. I also thought I might have turned him off when I told him about the time I pushed a drunk frat guy off the train when the train stopped at one of the stations. I did it because the guy wouldn't stop harassing my friends and me, and he was scaring them. Besides, I'm sure Sir Drinks-A-Lot found his way back on the train at some point.

I thought that maybe my date just wanted to be friends, and that's why he didn't kiss me or ask me out again. But I don't think I could just be friends with someone I really like, because what if he were to start dating another girl and he wanted me to meet her? I might try to rip out all of her hair, starting with her eyebrows.

So I'm not going to try and contact him again. It's too bad. I really did like him a lot, better than most of the other guys I've met online. I guess it's back to okcupid, though I'm a little reluctant to try again; I recently got a message from some guy who told me about how hot he was.

What do you think about making the first move on dates? Do you think it's possible to be friends with someone that you have a crush on?

What's the Magic Word?

2011-09-23T09:40:00.001-05:00

During rush hour yesterday, I was standing in line to put my fare card into the slot in order to get through the turnstile and board the train. Some woman walked past the line and stepped in front of all the people standing there in order to put her card in the slot. She caught the incoming train. I didn't. If she hadn't cut in front of me, I would have. Instead, I ended up waiting for a train that was several minutes late and ended up on a very crowded train with nothing to hold onto. As a result, every time the train jerked forward I practically landed face-first at someone's feet or accidentally threw my arms around another person's waist. (Doing that gives some people the wrong idea, which really isn't a good way to start the morning.)

Side note: What is it about a crowded train that makes people waiting on the platform want to make it even more crowded? Do they think that shoving their way inside and yelling at people to move back will magically create more space? Or do they like causing everyone else to get their faces smushed against other people's shoulders and backpacks?

Recently, a woman nearly ran me over with her car as I was trying to cross the street (I had the right of way). She didn't apologize, look at me, or slow down.

I was walking on the sidewalk and a guy walking in the opposite direction bumped into me, nearly knocking me into the street. His girlfriend called out, "Don't fall!" and they both laughed.

I told a fellow instructor that I used to work with how hard it was to find decent-paying adjunct jobs in the city. She then proceeded to tell me how one school that we had both taught at had offered her an extra class and was going to pay her significantly more than they had paid me.

Now that school's starting up again, I've been getting e-mails from students that ask questions like, "Do I really need to buy the books for class? How much reading are we going to do in a literature class?" and "I think I'm going to be missing at least three weeks of class. That's not going to hurt my grade, is it?" and "Can you tell me what all the assignments are now and how to do them, so that I can work ahead?" and "You're not going to make us show up on time every day, right? Because I have other things to do."

I've answered all the e-mails promptly, and the number of thank yous I've received aren't equal to half the number of e-mails, requests for appointments, and requests for recommendation letters that I've received.

My reaction to stuff like this?

I was raised to always say stuff like please, thank you, excuse me, and I'm sorry. One of the nuns at my Catholic grade school told us it was important to do at least one good deed a day, and I believed her. (On the other hand, I also used to believe the nuns when they said that thunder meant the angels were bowling.) So I do things like leave tips for baristas, open doors for people, and give up my seat on the train to others who need it more. I was also taught to give thank you gifts and cards to people who helped me, like the professors who wrote my recommendation letters, my hairstylist who made my hair stop looking like I'd stuck my finger in an electrical outlet, and the building engineers who always repaired broken things in my apartment almost as soon as I asked them to.

I don't expect cards or gifts when I help other people. I also don't expect people to act like this:

But it does bother me when people forget their manners, not just with me but with other people. I can't help wanting to say something (though sometimes I lack the courage to actually speak up) if I see a customer being rude to a cashier, or if I see a bunch of drivers honking their horns at people in wheelchairs crossing the street.

On the other hand, when I do see people who go out of their way to be kind and courteous, it always makes me feel better. This morning I saw a young woman give up her seat on the train so that an elderly couple could sit together. Recently I saw another woman giving food she'd bought at a restaurant to a homeless person. And occasionally, when I cross the street and a car brakes in front of me just in time, the driver will hold up his or her hand in order to apologize. People like that make me think that there are still good, considerate people out there. And that gives me hope.

What do you think? Do you think that manners and other rules for behavior are outdated? Or does it bother you when people disobey or disregard those rules?

What's in Your Closet?

2011-09-19T23:36:00.000-05:00

I'm moving in two weeks, and I haven't started packing yet.

It's too bad I can't clone myself so that I can make my clone do all the work for me. And possibly arm-wrestle the people who put their cell phone conversations and iTunes playlists on speakerphone in public.

I have gotten rid of a lot of stuff. I gave away several bags of clothes (the ones without holes in them) to the Salvation Army, because I'd had some of the clothes for years. I guess tie-dyed shirts and overalls aren't going to come back in style anytime soon.

I also sold some of my books to a used bookstore. They took my Shakespeare anthology, but apparently no one else wants to read N'Sync's autobiography (don't ask me why I have two copies), which is about all five of the members but is less than a hundred pages. And no one wants to read scholarly nonfiction books with highlighted passages and my notes in the margins that say stuff like, "I can't TAKE this anymore! Footnotes are the work of the devil!"

I've been going through my other belongings and trying to figure out what to keep and what to throw away, because I'm moving from a one-bedroom apartment to a studio. I thought about selling some of my furniture, but my ten-year-old desk is chipped in several places from where I banged my hands (and occasionally, my head) down in frustration. One of the chairs in my kitchen broke when the friend of a friend sat on it, though both friends claimed that the chair was already broken (right). I can't get rid of my two bookcases, because there are already too many stacks of books on the floor.

I have pots and pans that I haven't used since the last time I set off my smoke detector and nearly set my clothes on fire. Normal thirty-year-olds are able to follow recipes and cook food that people can eat without immediately spitting it out, but I just can't seem to get it right.

I still have my poster of Orlando Bloom as Legolas from The Lord of the Rings, even though I didn't like him as much after I saw his performance in Troy. (After I saw his portrayal of Paris, I couldn't help thinking, Jeez. What a girl. But then again, I've always been Team Hector.)

I also still have the first gift I ever received from a boy, a small stuffed lizard that he gave me after he took me to a high school dance. I'm not throwing that out. I'm also not throwing out all the pictures of old friends from high school and college, even though I haven't seen most of them in years. Whenever I want to remember what it was like to be sixteen or twenty-one, I look at those pictures.

I started writing regularly in journals when I was in the fourth grade. I still have all those journals. I'm not throwing those out either, partly because I don't want to let go of what I wrote. I also have this fear that someone's going to go through the garbage, find my journals, and post copies of them on the Internet under the heading "What Not to Write".

My small DVD collection is mostly made up of romantic comedies, partly because I can't watch horror movies without covering my eyes and shrieking, "Why would you go into the woods when you know that an ax-wielding serial killer is in there, you fool?" It's also because even though I know that guys in real life aren't like the leading men in romantic comedies (and I'm no leading lady, especially because I hate shopping for shoes and I can't put on makeup without looking like I was blindfolded when I put it on), the movies still give me hope that I could have my own happy ending someday.

What about you? What do some of your possessions say about you? Which ones would you throw out, and which ones would you keep?

The Creep Factor

2011-09-16T14:00:00.001-05:00

I went on a coffee date with a guy I met on okcupid a couple days ago. We'd been messaging each other for about a week, and compared to a lot of the guys on okcupid, he seemed nice and normal. No half-naked pictures of him flexing in his profile. No references to a gun collection. No lines about how he's tired of the bar scene that were contradicted by several pictures of him in bars. Nothing in his profile about how women over the age of thirty should just be grateful.

There was nothing like that in his profile or his messages. We didn't actually have a lot in common. But I figure that even if I were to meet a guy who also happened to be a Type-A workaholic who turns into the human equivalent of King Kong when people annoy him, I probably wouldn't want to date him. I tend to be attracted to guys who are different from me - laid-back, outgoing, athletic, and down-to-earth.

During the date, he started texting once or twice. I felt tempted to say, "HEY! All eyes on ME, buddy!" But I figured that would be un-ladylike, so I didn't.

We talked a lot about our work, because it didn't seem like we had a lot of common interests. Then again, lately my interests include watching episodes of Jersey Shore, figuring out how many cups of coffee I can drink before I get really wired, and trying to find a polite way to tell my neighbors that the hallway in our building does not equal trash can. Or spittoon.

A couple of hours after the date, he called me. We talked about the possibility of going out again sometime soon. I told him that I had to work all day the next day, but I said that I would call him the day after that.

The next day, he texted me to let me know that he was thinking of me. And that's when I got creeped out.

In my opinion, that kind of text message is the kind of message I'd expect to get after a fourth or fifth date, not the first date. The first date (especially the first date with someone you meet online) is more of an introduction than anything else. You're still just getting to know each other. I've never been on one of those romantic first dates that I never wanted to end because I just found my soul mate, and do you hear the birds singing? Because I think they're singing for me.

Yeah. Never had a date like that. Or anything like those dates in one of those match.com commercials. During first dates I usually just feel awkward and nervous. I try to keep myself from blurting out anything stupid, like "Do you know that your teeth stick out a little, like vampire fangs?"

I also tend to be pretty reserved in the romance department. For me, I need to take things slow, one step at a time, one date at a time. Once I went on a first date with a guy who started holding my hand and putting his arm around me about halfway through the date. All I could think of at the time was, Get OFF me! But I thought that might be un-ladylike too. (There was never a second date with that guy.)

After the guy from okcupid texted me to let me know that he was thinking of me, I sent him a terse message to let him know that I couldn't talk; I was working. It was true, because I was working on a project for my website job and I was on a deadline.

The next day I called and left him a message and apologized for not being able to talk. I said that I was really busy, but maybe we could get together for lunch sometime soon. But I think he must have thought I was no longer interested in him, because he didn't call me back.

A part of me felt relieved. But another part of me felt disappointed, too. Now even guys who do like me don't want a second date. I feel like I should have given him more of a chance, but deep down there was a part of me that just wasn't feeling the same things that he was feeling.

But he was a genuinely nice guy who liked me, and I pushed him away. I'm wondering if I should try calling him again, or if I should just let this one go.

What do you think? What would you do if you were in my situation? How would you react if someone sent you a text message like that after the first date?

The Fifth Time Around

2011-09-12T01:04:00.001-05:00

I've decided to try online dating again. This is my fifth round of online dating. I tried okcupid and match.com two years ago, and then last year I was a member of eharmony. This past winter I joined chemistry.com. Not that I'm keeping count or anything. It's not like I'm BITTER that I'm still trying or anything.

I put off online dating for the past few months because something was holding me back. For one thing, I couldn't understand why so many guys would sign up for online dating memberships if they weren't going to write anything about themselves in their profiles. I also didn't want to get e-mails that said stuff like "Nice boobs" and "You look a lot like my mom" again.

I also was just enjoying being single. It was nice to not be checking my e-mail several times a day, and when I did check it, it was nice to read my messages without cringing. I liked being on my own and doing what I wanted to do.

But I do want to get married and have a family someday, and that's not going to happen if I keep hiding myself away or if I don't make an effort. Otherwise the rest of my Friday nights are going to look like this:

So I'm giving okcupid another try. Mainly it's because okcupid is free; I'm pretty broke and I can't afford to sign up for a paid membership right now. Okcupid is not as conservative as eharmony and chemistry; on the latter sites, you're more likely to find people who are looking for serious relationships. There are people like that on okcupid too, but you're also likely to find people who are looking for something "casual" (cough, cough).

Eharmony and chemistry actually don't take up as much time as okcupid, because they pick the matches for you based on their questionnaire; therefore, you only see the people that the website thinks you're compatible with. In other words, they choose the matches for you and send you about half a dozen profiles to review every day. On okcupid, on the other hand, there are people who are matched with you based on how you responded to the personality questionnaire, but you can look at everybody's profiles.

Still, I went ahead and filled out okcupid's questionnaire. It reminded me of one of those magazine quizzes, where you know which answers will get you the higher score, even though those might not be the answers you'd choose if you were being honest. Here are a few examples of the questions as well as the answers I would have given if I was being 100% honest.

How much can intelligence turn you on?
If he starts laughing like Beavis or Butthead, I'm out of there.

If you don't do anything at all for an entire day, how does that make you feel?
Are you kidding? That would be MADNESS, I tell you! Have you not MET me before?

If you had to name your greatest motivation in life thus far, what would it be?
Life, liberty, and the pursuit of chocolate.

Do you generally smile at little kids who cross your path?
Yes. Unless they're sneezing, coughing, or holding something slimy and wriggling, in which case I run in the opposite direction.

How often are you open with your feelings?
I wish I could be very open with my feelings, particularly with the people who try to cut in front of me in line, the people who say, "Excuse you," and the people who have never heard of breath mints.

Is it a requirement that you communicate with your significant other every single day?
No, especially because he might catch me during one of my rants against the 587 people that I am currently annoyed with, and then he might run in the opposite direction.

I've been on okcupid for about a week so far. I've been exchanging e-mails with two guys who seem nice enough (technically there were four, but two of them pulled disappearing acts, which wasn't very nice. A POX on both of them, I say!). I have a date with one of them coming up soon. Maybe I'll have better luck this time.

On the other hand, I just got a "wink" from some guy who didn't write anything in his profile; several guys who are "seeing someone" have viewed my profile, and there are too many guys who post pictures of themselves wearing nothing but their underwear. Not to be a prude or anything (even though I totally am), but I just figure that there's a time and a place for everything. And I think that an online dating profile is one place where you should keep your pants on, you know?

Okcupid allows members to create their own questions for other members to answer. If you could create your own question for this dating website, what would it be?

Tourists Say the Darndest Things

2011-09-05T14:48:00.000-05:00

I want to swim in the lake, but I'm afraid that the sharks might get me.

Let's go check out the Marilyn Monroe statue. I'm going to look up her dress and see if she's wearing any underwear.

What do you think is IN these Chicago-style hot dogs?

The walk signal is flashing. I'm sure the cars will stop for us.

I didn't think it'd be this hot in July. I thought Chicago was supposed to be cold all the time.

If you wear a Cubs shirt, then everyone will think you're a local.

Why does everyone look so mad all the time?

What I'd like to say to tourists:

If your shorts were any shorter, you'd be mooning people right now.

You do realize that when you and your entire family walk really slowly, stop every five seconds, and block the sidewalk like that, you are basically giving impatient Chicago locals permission to knock you over, right?

It's perfectly fine to ask bus drivers for directions. It is NOT fine to prevent other passengers from getting on the bus while you block the entrance and harass the bus driver into telling you how to get to every single place on your itinerary.

It is also NOT okay to pay the bus fare for you and all thirteen of your relatives with coins. By the way? The reason all the commuters look so angry right now is that they are about two seconds away from a MUTINY.

If you're going to sneeze all over people, could you at least aim away from my direction?

When I first moved to Chicago, I was like the tourists. I took pictures of everything and wrote about what I saw and experienced in my journal. After growing up in a small town, I was in awe of city life and the idea that I could walk down the street without running into at least half a dozen people that I knew.

I took in as much of the city as I could. I went to museums, concerts, plays, neighborhood festivals, and movie screenings in Grant Park. I spent hours sitting by the lake and watching the water move. When I went out, I was observant of everything that I saw and heard, because I didn't want to miss a thing.

But now after several years of living here, I feel like I've lost that perspective of Chicago that I had when I was like one of the wide-eyed tourists. Now I just look at the city in terms of where I need to go, as in from Point A to Point B to Point C. I've become so wrapped up in work and school that I don't have the time or money to experience the city in the way that I used to, and I miss it.

On the other hand, I think that living in the city for this long gives me the right to act like a snob and mock the tourists.

What about you? How do you feel about your hometown? Can you imagine living anywhere else?

And because I'm feeling nostalgic, here's an oldie but goodie by Frank Sinatra. Technically, Chicago's not my hometown, but in a way it is because I feel more at home here than I did anywhere else.

Beware of Misanthrope

2011-08-29T22:49:00.000-05:00

My lease doesn't end for another month, but the rental company that manages my building has already started showing my apartment to prospective tenants almost every day, all day. This means that random strangers have been coming in and out of my apartment, making me paranoid that they're going to run off with my laptop, or worse, my stash of M&Ms.

I know that it's important for the rental company to show the apartment to other people. After all, I don't own the apartment; I just pay rent on it. They need to make sure that every apartment is being rented, and the best way to do that is to let people see what the place looks like.

If I had a normal 9-5 job, it wouldn't matter. I wouldn't even be at home when the people stop by. But because I am a broke grad student, I spend a lot of time at home. And I am fiercely protective of my privacy, mainly because I don't want people to see me weeping over my laptop or tearing my hair out over a stack of textbooks. I also don't want people to see all the Coke bottles and empty coffee cups scattered on the floor and on my desk.

I also like to take naps in the afternoon, but now I feel like I can't sleep until six-thirty P.M. when the tenants stop showing up (and by then it's too late to take a nap). I was able to get the building engineer to call me beforehand if anyone is planning to stop by. That's a good thing, because I can be very cranky when someone wakes me up in the middle of a nap. Then all hell breaks loose and people start screaming, "Oh no, they've woken up the beast! RUN!"

For the most part the prospective tenants usually just stop by with the realtors for a few minutes. But occasionally I find myself watching them warily while I pretend to work at my laptop.

Prospective tenant: So is this a quiet building?
Me: Usually. Most of the people who live here are young professionals. Everyone's pretty nice. Except when they're coming home drunk at two A.M., stealing other people's packages, and throwing their cigarette butts all over the front yard.

I decided to hire a moving company, because I don't have a truck to transport all of my furniture. I could have rented a U-haul, but I don't really trust myself to drive it. I actually don't even know how to parallel park, because I grew up in a small town where it wasn't really necessary to know how to do it. I also think it's because I accidentally ran over a can of disinfectant that had been left on the curb during one of my driving lessons; the can flew up and exploded all over the window. I think my driver's ed teacher figured that teaching me how to do anything else after that was a lost cause.

I'm moving to a building that's only a couple blocks away, but the moving company has all these fees. There's the base fee, the even though this may only take one hour we're going to charge you for three hours because that's how we roll fee, and the we're carrying all this heavy stuff for you so be THANKFUL fee. (There's also the tip to consider.)

My current rental company also manages the building that I'll be moving into, but they are still charging me fees. I had to pay the first month's rent, along with a nonrefundable $300 move-in fee. I can't help wondering what the move-in fee is for, seeing as how they're not actually helping me move in. Maybe it's to protect the building against any possible damage that might result from the moving process. One year two new tenants at my current building were in the process of moving in when they crashed their furniture into the front door (which is made of glass), causing it to shatter into a bunch of tiny pieces. One of the tenants scratched his head and said, "I think I broke it." They didn't bother to apologize, clean up, or even tell the building engineer what they'd done. Maybe they thought no one would notice.

All this hassle of moving (and I haven't even started packing yet) has made me remember why I chose to stay in an apartment I disliked for so long. But I can't think about it for too long, because I have to hide the Coke bottles and coffee cups. And also my M&Ms.

If I Hadn't Gone to Grad School...

2011-08-22T20:01:00.000-05:00

1. I wouldn't feel embarrassed about going out in public because I can't afford to replace most of my clothes and shoes that have holes in them. Then I wouldn't have to tell people, "Didn't you hear? The ripped jeans look is back. The mohawk is coming back too. You should totally get one."

2. I'd be able to write fiction without feeling guilty about using up time that could have been spent on my graduate work instead.

3. Maybe my hair wouldn't have started turning white when I was still in my twenties. And then maybe I wouldn't have learned that dyeing one's hair should probably be left to the professionals, especially when one is too impatient to read all the instructions beforehand.

4. People wouldn't make comments like, "When are you going to grow up and get a job?" and "You've been in school forever! You're a professional student!" and "I know all these people who earned their graduate degrees in just one or two years. You should work harder so that you can finish sooner."

5. I'd have more money for the essentials, like rent, groceries, and Britney Spears' albums.

6. I wouldn't feel so lost and scared sometimes, because graduate school is extremely difficult. I've never felt like I belonged there.

7. I could have gone into politics instead and made it illegal for people to talk on their cell phones at the movies, in church, and on long train rides. The penalty would be to make their cell phones malfunction every time they entered a public space, so that they would lose the will to annoy people.

8. I could have accepted one of the job offers outside of academia that I had when I graduated from college. I could have started earning a real salary with health insurance and benefits, and I could have had just one job instead of two or three. Maybe I could have had a job that actually ended when I left the office each day, rather than have to face a stack of papers to grade and several books to read every night after a long day of teaching and office hours.

9. I wouldn't have wasted all that time poring over the dictionary before I finally realized that many scholars make up multi-syllable words to make themselves sound smarter...er, to explain their ideas and theories.

10. I would never have taught any of the undergraduates and high school students who taught me more about life, myself, and what I'm capable of than I ever could have learned anywhere else.

Being in graduate school means making a lot of sacrifices, many of which I never expected to make when I was younger. I didn't think that I'd still be a student at age thirty. I didn't think I'd have to stay at home most nights while my friends went out, because I didn't have enough money to join them and I had too much studying to do anyway. I didn't think I'd have to work two or three jobs and still earn thousands of dollars less than most people my age. I didn't think that there'd be way too many Ph.D.'s I'll have to compete against when I start looking for a full-time teaching job. I didn't think that there's always the possibility that I might not get what I've spent years working for.

I've wanted to drop out of graduate school a thousand and one times. But I haven't given up yet, because I feel like I'd be giving up a lot more than just my degree if I did. Teaching is the one job I've ever had that I actually liked and was good at. I feel more at home in a college classroom than I would have felt in an office, a hospital, a bank, a law firm, the stage, etc., etc.

What about you? When you think of a choice you've made, whether it was a career that you decided to pursue, a place that you chose to live in, or a person that you chose to spend your life with, did you ever think of what would have happened if you hadn't made that choice?

City Dweller Seeks Annoyance-Free Apartment

2011-08-16T13:59:00.001-05:00

I've spent the past several years living in a one-bedroom apartment that I never really liked very much, just because it would be such a hassle to move to a new place. Several of my neighbors love TV so much that they want to share their love of TV with everyone else by cranking the volume up to the highest level. Other neighbors smoke inside and outside the building. Their favorite spot to hang out is directly below my window (I live on the second floor), so that whenever I open my window I am forced to inhale their smoke. I often find myself gasping for air and saying bitterly, "Someday I WILL get my revenge! Some...day!"

I also don't like the fact that pretty much every single thing that could have broken down in my place has broken down. If I could live without running water and a refrigerator, I would, but I just don't want to.

So I've been looking for a new apartment to rent, because I've finally faced the fact that I can't afford to live in a one-bedroom apartment anymore. If I lived in the suburbs, it'd be easier to find a less expensive, bigger place to rent. But I'd have to have a car if I lived in the suburbs, and I'm a very nervous driver. I'd probably spend the whole time shrieking, "INCOMING! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!" every time I passed another car or drove too close to the curb.

I went to one of those places that helps city dwellers like me find apartments. I didn't have to pay the realtor, because apparently he gets a commission every time a new renter signs a lease. Last week he took me around to look at several different apartments. As we were looking around, there were several things that I probably should have said out loud, but I kept them to myself because I didn't want the nice realtor to think that I was weird. (I do that a lot.)

Realtor: And as you can see, the laundry room is right on the same floor as your apartment, which would be very convenient.
Me: Uh-huh. Why does it smell like someone peed in the hallway? DID someone pee out here?

Realtor: Now, this is the typical size of a studio apartment.
Me: It's kind of small. It's also the typical size of a walk-in closet.
Realtor: Well, you could probably fit all your things in here if you rearranged some stuff.
Me: Or if I sold all my furniture.

Realtor: This building has a lot of great amenities for the tenants, including an exercise room, rooftop access, and an on-site maintenance crew.
Me: I'll just be happy if I don't find any spiders on my dinner plate, laundry left in the machines for four hours at a time, and drunk people lying prone in front of my apartment. (These are three reasons why I want to leave my current building.)

Realtor: The carpet's kind of dirty, but they'll definitely clean that before you move in.
Me: Does that look like the outline of someone's body on the carpet to you? Does the current tenant lie on the floor a lot, or was this part of a crime scene?

The realtor did help me find a studio that wasn't too small, but there's definitely a lot less space than my one-bedroom. I'm sure there'll be an adjustment period, because I've lived in a one-bedroom apartment for several years. But at the same time, I'll be saving hundreds of dollars in rent each month by moving to a studio.

One thing I don't like about my new apartment is that it is directly facing two other apartments. Their windows are so close to mine that whoever is living in there could climb into my apartment and steal everything I own. (Other than my laptop and TV, I don't really have much of anything that would be worth stealing, unless you count my old Ricky Martin CDs.)

Since I will have this up close and way too personal view of my neighbors' apartments, I just hope that none of them walk around naked. I also hope that they don't stare into my apartment because they mistakenly think that I'm going to walk around naked. (NEVER going to happen!) I'm such a prude that if I could take a shower with my clothes on, I would. (And at least then I'd save money on laundry.)

I kind of wish I was able to just live a simpler lifestyle, like the one Kate Earl does in her music video. Her song "Melody" is on my writing playlist. I like the way her little "home" is set up in the video, especially the paper cranes hanging from the tree. But I don't think I could live in a tent like that, mainly because there wouldn't be enough room for all my books.

When you move (or when you did move in the past) to a new place, what kinds of things do you look for? What kinds of things would be deal breakers for you?

Stop and Sniff the Fire Hydrant

2011-08-12T13:02:00.000-05:00

For a few weeks this summer I was dog-sitting for my parents. They own two dogs, a Bolognese that I refer to in this blog as Neurotic Jr. and a Shetland Sheepdog (a sheltie) that I refer to as Jane Dog. My parents live in a different state, but they let me keep the dogs for a while and I managed to work out a deal with the landlord so that the dogs could stay with me. A close relative kept the dogs company when I had to work.

I thought that taking care of the dogs might give me some new writing material, like those inspirational dog vs. owner stories, where the dog is difficult to live with at first but ends up inspiring the owner to write inspirational stories about dogs. I thought that it might give me a new perspective on writing, because dogs like to stop, sniff, and examine everything; I thought that maybe people should try doing that too (except for the sniffing other dogs' butts part). But it didn't quite work out that way.

I took them to a small dog park on a regular basis. Even though several dog owners in Chicago live in apartment buildings, the people who own/manage those buildings freak out if the dogs venture near the small patches of grass in front of the buildings. The people will put up small fences around the grass. Or they'll put up signs that say stuff like "Keep dogs off grass" or "No Dogs allowed" (along with a picture of a dog with a big X over it) or "Please curb your dog" or "Don't even THINK about letting your dog defile the grass because otherwise I WILL come after you...and your little dog too!"

Neurotic Jr. is incredibly spoiled, because my parents treat her like a small child and refuse to discipline her. That may be why she insisted on being carried for most of the time during our "walks."

Me: Come on, Neurotic Jr.! Carrying you would defeat the purpose of the walk!
Neurotic Jr: (blinks at me and refuses to move)
Me: Oh, for Pete's sake! Fine, I'll carry you!
Woman passing by: Oh, she's so cute! But why are you carrying her?
Me: I think she likes the view from up here. Or maybe I'm just a chump.

Jane Dog loves to bark at everything, which is the nature of shelties. Whenever a garbage truck, motorcycle, or bird passed by, her reaction was: "ArfarfarfarfarfARF!"

She also had this embarrassing habit of sniffing other people who passed by, so that sometimes a person would say, "Hey!" And I'd laugh sheepishly and say, "Oh, sorry! My dog didn't mean to stick her nose up your skirt (or shorts if it was a guy, because Jane Dog likes to sniff everyone). I guess she just likes you."

Of course, Neurotic Jr. would always throw one of her tantrums and Jane Dog would always go off into a barking fit in front of a person with the Perfect Dog, as in the kind of canine that is so well-behaved that it views barking as something that only "common" dogs do. The owner would wow the other owners with all sorts of tricks that Perfect Dog could do, like fetching a ball, rolling over and playing dead, and other things to show off its intelligence, like break dancing.

If you think I'm exaggerating about the break dancing, here's a video of a dog doing the merengue. Neurotic Jr. and Jane Dog would never consent to letting me put either of them in a skirt. Jane Dog would find some way to pull it off and then bark at it to make it go away. Neurotic Jr. would become hysterical and run all over the place, being sure to leave paw prints everywhere, if I came near her with one of those little doggie outfits.

When Neurotic Jr. refused to move and looked up at me as if to say, "You didn't really think I'd walk this time, did you? Have I taught you nothing?" and Jane Dog nearly broke free from her leash because she was barking her head off at a bench, Perfect Dog's owner would look at me and say, "That's quite the pair you have there!"

"Um, yeah," I'd say.

Perfect Dog would come running up at that moment and drop the ball in front of his owner's feet, panting, and he always looked like he was laughing at my dogs, as if to say, "Hahahahaha, you WISH you were as obedient as me, LOSERS!"

Neurotic Jr. would growl at him as if to say, "You want a piece of me? Why don't you come over here and I'll play fetch with your tail."

"I trained mine when he was still a puppy," Perfect Dog's owner would say. "Maybe you should look into obedience school."

"Uh-huh," I'd respond, even though what I was really thinking was, "WhatEVER, dude. Maybe you should look into getting a new personality. And get one for your dog, too."

But even though Neurotic Jr. and Jane Dog have their quirks, I love them anyway because really, who can resist adorable, huggable dogs who are always happy to see you? I wish I could keep them all the time, but my apartment is too small for two dogs. Plus my arms would get really tired from carrying Neurotic Jr. all the time.

What about you? Do you have pets? If you are a pet owner, do you ever find yourself incorporating animals into your stories? What do you think of those inspirational pet memoirs?

Side note: I would have included pictures of Neurotic Jr. and Jane Dog on the blog, but like me, they prefer to remain anonymous. But I think they'd be more willing to sit still for pictures and let me post the photos on my blog if they got more doggie treats and tummy rubs.

It's Not Me, It's You

2011-08-08T14:42:00.000-05:00

I finally gave notice at my retail job, and I no longer have to work there anymore. This pretty much sums up what I'm feeling right now:

When I gave my two weeks' notice, I simply wrote a note indicating that I was leaving and when my last day would be. There was so much more that I could have said about why I was quitting sooner rather than later, but I didn't because I might need my retail employers for a job reference later on. And it's not like I could have said, "This job SUCKED and sometimes I hated it so much that I thought you SUCKED, but can I still list you as a reference?"

Giving notice to your employer is a little like breaking up with a significant other. You can't be brutally honest about why you're leaving, because you don't want to come off sounding like a jerk. (Side note: But there has been more than one occasion where I've wanted to say to a guy, "I never want to see you again because you're always bragging about the fancy electronic gadgets that you buy, but you expect me to pay for dinner or drinks every time we go out," or "I don't want to go out with you because your hair kind of makes me think of Dennis the Menace.")

But if I could have been honest about why I was leaving that job, here's what I would have said:

1. You make me sick. My retail job this summer stressed me out so much that I kept scratching at my arms because it felt like bugs were crawling up and down my skin. I ended up with small scabs all over my arms, which still haven't completely healed. Because it's T-shirt weather, I feel self-conscious exposing my arms in public, because I feel like people are going to take one look at my skin and gasp, "What happened to YOU?"

2. My life doesn't revolve around you. Even though this was supposedly a part-time job, it took up a lot more time than I thought it would. At my other retail jobs, I usually only worked three or four days a week. At this one, I worked five days a week, sometimes more.

It took almost an hour to commute to the Tourist Trap and an hour to get home, not to mention taking public transportation every day with a bunch of sweaty people who apparently don't believe that deodorant is necessary didn't do anything to help my nerves. Even though we were scheduled to leave at a certain time, if we were working the closing shift we were made to stay until the store looked perfect. That meant that I had to work late, anywhere from a half hour to more than an hour past my shift every time. The managers would keep coming up with more stuff for us to do, and even after we completed our tasks, they'd walk around the store and point out places that we missed.

I'd get home from work too tired to do anything but fall asleep watching TV. I hardly got any work done on my dissertation, and I missed more than one deadline on my website job. I didn't get to blog as much, and I was only able to write fiction sporadically. I didn't get to spend much time with my friends, because what I was earning was barely enough to pay for groceries, let alone a night out. I always promised myself that I would never become one of those girlfriends whose entire life revolves around her boyfriend, but it had gotten to the point where it felt like my whole summer revolved around this job.

3. Being with you makes me miserable. As I've mentioned before, I've spent years working in retail, first as a bookseller, then as a clothing store employee. I never really liked it very much, because the work is boring and repetitive; it's tiring to stand for several hours a day, and the pay is extremely low. But I didn't hate working at the bookstore or the clothing store nearly as much as I hated working at the Tourist Trap.

The tourists weren't really the problem. I mean, it wasn't fun navigating crowds of tourists every day, but for the most part they were actually nicer than a lot of the customers I'd encountered at the bookstore and Expensive Clothing Store. Even though the high Chicago sales tax (9.75%) often shocked them, they were a lot less likely to throw tantrums over the prices of the products we sold. When I worked at Expensive Clothing Store, customers would often blame me for the high prices of the clothes, and I'd be all, "Don't blame me! I just work here." (I didn't actually say that, though.) They'd get back at me by making me run all over the store to find clothes in different sizes or colors; then they'd try all of them on, leave the fitting rooms in a mess for me to clean up, and they wouldn't buy anything.

When I worked at the bookstore, one customer literally started stamping his feet like a caveman and bellowing insults at all the sellers because we wouldn't give him cash for his gift card. Other customers would get mad at me because I wasn't ringing up their orders fast enough; they'd say, "I have really important things to do today. Can you speed this up? Or do I need to talk to a manager?" I always felt tempted to say, Exactly what important things are you planning to do? Are you talking about all the money you're going to burn through, which you think makes you entitled to treat underpaid cashiers and salespeople like crap? That sounds REALLY important.

But at the Tourist Trap, the customers were usually just happy to be in Chicago and would chat about all the places they'd been to or the interesting things that they'd seen. So it wasn't them that bothered me.

What bothered me was having to work late every night. It was one manager telling me to do one thing, and then another manager telling me to do something else at the same time; then both managers would get mad at me because I didn't get all the work done fast enough. It was certain (though not all) coworkers who would stand around and do nothing, leaving other coworkers like me to pick up the slack. It was knowing that with all the money the store raked in every day, my employers could more than afford to pay us even just a little bit more (which would have made a big difference), but they chose not to while pressuring us to sell as many "add-ons" and make as much money for the store as possible. It was the fact that even though I was working two jobs (plus a couple hours a week tutoring the daughter of one of my parents' friends), I still couldn't afford to pay for all of my expenses without the help of a credit card.

Being at that job made me extremely unhappy, more unhappy than I've ever been at any other job. I've decided that I never want to be that miserable at a job again, because it can (and did) have negative effects on other parts of my life. All that misery just wasn't worth the paycheck, even though I did need that paycheck. Next summer, I hope to find something better, though preferably not in retail. I usually take a break from teaching during the summer, but I'm more than willing to teach next year. And hopefully, once I complete my degree and find a full-time teaching job, I'll never have to work part-time jobs that make me think, So this is what hell must be like, ever again.

But it wasn't necessary for me to tell my employers at the Tourist Trap why I was really leaving. Tourist season in Chicago is mainly during the summer, because it gets so cold in the winter that even locals will usually break down at one point and cry, "I've become a human popsicle! AAAHHHHH!!!!"

So the Tourist Trap doesn't need as many workers once summer ends, and I probably would have gotten laid off anyway. School will be starting soon, so I am going to take the time that I have left to enjoy a well-deserved and much-needed vacation. Although by "vacation" I mean clean out my apartment, work on my dissertation, revise my syllabi for the classes that I'll be teaching, pick up extra hours at my website job, exercise at the gym, find an apartment with cheaper rent, etc., etc. If I were to take the kind of vacation where I just laid around all day, I'd probably start imagining bugs on my skin and start scratching at my arms again. I am a workaholic, after all.

What about you? Have you ever quit a job that you didn't like? If you could say something to an employer or a significant other that you left behind, what would it be?

Tag! I'm It

2011-08-02T00:24:00.001-05:00

Fellow blogger Anna Saikin is playing blog tag with some other bloggers, and she tagged me. Apparently I have to answer six questions about myself and then tag other bloggers. So here goes:

1. Are you hot?
YES! It is WAY TOO HOT in the Tourist Trap, and the A/C still hasn't been fixed (though it seems to be working fine in the managers' office). It doesn't help that the temperature has been in the nineties lately. I feel like wrestling the water bottles away from the tourists just so I can splash some water on my face. But I suppose that would be bad customer service.

2. Upload a picture or wallpaper you are using at the moment.
I haven't uploaded any pictures of myself that show my face on this blog because I am not photogenic at all (and also because I'm more or less anonymous on this blog). In most of the pictures that have been taken of me, I think I look like Medusa, the woman whose hair was made of snakes. Or maybe that's just because I don't brush my hair every day.

3. When was the last time you ate chicken?
I ate Chicken McNuggets at McDonald's a few days ago, even though I don't like McDonald's. I have this slightly irrational fear that if I eat too much chicken I'll turn into one.

4. The song you listened to recently:
Katy Perry's "Last Friday Night". When I was a kid, I looked a little like "Kathy Beth Terry" (pre-makeover) in the video. Except I was more nerdy.

5. What were you thinking while doing this?
I was thinking that the fourth season of Jersey Shore is starting soon. If I was trapped in an elevator with Snooki and The Situation, I would literally pry open the doors with my hands (I think that the sheer terror would give me the adrenaline I need) and climb out of the elevator, leaving them to fend for themselves. And yet when the first episode airs, I'm going to watch it. Somehow watching the stupid things that they do (and say) makes me feel smarter, even though I accidentally put my pants on backwards the other day.

6. Do you have nicknames? What are they?
None that I know of. But I suppose that if I did tell people in my "real life" about my blog, they'd agree that "Neurotic Workaholic" is an appropriate nickname.

7. Tag eight blogger friends, even though I only tagged six, because I'm a rule-breaker like that. And to the people I've tagged, feel free to answer the questions and tag others. Or not. (It's not like I'll OBSESS about it if you don't.)

Cantaloupe
E.R. King at Get Busy Writing!
Geophrie at The Far Too Important Blog
Teddi at She Was Write
Lalalalauren at lauren vs. reality
Shannon at Shannon McMahon

Now I'm off to do some homework. And by "homework," I mean watch Jersey Shore reruns.

The Pros and Cons of Online Dating

2011-07-22T00:43:00.000-05:00

I've been taking a break from online dating for the past couple of months, but I've been thinking of trying again. I'd like to try zoosk.com, since I haven't been on the site before. But it costs money to join and I can't even afford to buy coffee (oh, caffeine, how I've MISSED you) because of my low-paying retail job.

So I've been thinking about rejoining okcupid. It probably won't be for another month at least, because online dating (and just dating in general) takes up a lot of time that I don't have right now. I also can't help thinking of all the pros and cons of online dating.

PRO: If I meet someone I like, then being with him will give me something to look forward to.

CON: Thinking of all the guys I met and didn't like makes me dread the thought of another bad first date.

PRO: Since it's summer, there are more date options, like watching movies in Grant Park or going to a neighborhood festival.

CON: Since it's summer, that means I'll wear a short-sleeved/sleeveless top on the date. That also means that it'll look a lot more conspicuous when I keep checking my watch if my date's favorite topic turns out to be himself.

PRO: If I rejoin okcupid, it won't cost me anything since this dating site is free.

CON: Going on dates can be expensive. Two of the guys I had coffee dates with waited until after I'd paid for my coffee before they came up to meet me for our dates.

PRO: It's fun to get interesting e-mails from nice guys who want to date me.

CON: It is not fun to get e-mails that say stuff like, "Your profile says that you're Catholic. Exactly how Catholic are you?" and "My ex-girlfriend was a total drama queen, so hopefully you're not like her," and "Is there any part of your body that's not real? Just checking, haha! But seriously?"

PRO: Even if online dating doesn't work out, at least it gives me material that I can use in my writing, as several people who have read my blog have pointed out to me.

CON: Speaking of material, I should probably come up with new excuses if I end up on dates with guys I don't like. Excuses like "I think I'm going to be leaving the country and I have no idea when or if I'll be back," and "I want to have kids and I'm thirty years old, so I need to get pregnant really soon," and "I don't really feel like going out for drinks. Want to go shoe shopping with me instead?" might not always work. So I need to come up with new excuses to end the date early, just in case.

To be honest, I kind of like being single right now. I like not cringing when I read my e-mail; I like not spending too much time reading profiles. I like being able to do what I want on my time off, instead of setting aside time for dates that go nowhere.

But on the other hand, I do want to fall in love, get married, and have a family someday. I don't know if any of that will ever happen for me, but I haven't given up hope yet.

What do you think? In your opinion, what are the pros/cons of dating and/or being single?

Why I'm Not Writing

2011-07-12T23:46:00.001-05:00

1. At the store where I work, a customer sneezed all over my hands as I was giving her the change from her purchase. Now I can't stop sneezing.

2. Since I can't afford to take a sick day, I've been going to work and trying not to sneeze or cough on the other customers. I feel tempted to sneeze on a couple of the supervisors though, because they claim that the A/C in the store can't be fixed. It is extremely warm in the store and several customers have asked me if I'm going to pass out.

3. I think I might have accidentally mixed up my nighttime cold medicine with the daytime medicine, which might explain why I keep falling asleep on my laptop.

4. I thought about giving up TV for a week so that I'd have more time to write. I figured if I could survive a TV-free week, maybe I could cancel my cable and save money, even though I don't subscribe to extra cable channels or Netflix. But then when I went to sleep I kept dreaming of all the shows I was missing. (Side note: Jerry Seinfeld is kind of scary when you dream about him. Or at least he is when I dream about him.)

5. I considered rejoining okcupid, but I couldn't stop wondering if there's a way to loser-proof my profile.

6. I have to complete a draft of my dissertation, and I'm supposed to do a lot more research. But the only thing I feel like reading is People, which may be one of the reasons that my brain is not fully functioning right now.

7. I keep muttering "Murf" to myself when I'm at work, because one particularly stressful day I thought, I could kick a Smurf right now. (Side note: No Smurfs were hurt before, during, or after the writing of this post.)

8. I've been combing through the job ads to see if I can find something better than my current retail job. It turns out that there are a lot of (ahem) interesting characters on Craigslist, including one guy who wants to hire someone to spy on his wife because he thinks she's cheating on him, someone who wants a personal assistant who is "easy on the eyes", and a business owner who described himself as rich and good-looking and was looking for an "open-minded" receptionist.

9. I thought about starting my own Twitter page, but then I figured that most people aren't going to be interested in Tweets like "I managed not to yell at any drivers who were talking on their cell phones today" or "Would it be wrong to jump into tourists' pictures to make them stop blocking my way on the sidewalk?"

10. I keep wondering why two of my favorite shows, Law and Order and Law and Order: Criminal Intent, got cancelled but shows like Storage Wars were renewed and the Kardashians keep getting spinoffs.

But then I think about what my life would be like if I stopped writing altogether and how much I'd miss writing. I think about how I'd continue to feel the urge to grab my journal and a pen every time I saw/thought/heard/felt something weird, funny, or interesting. I think about all the characters I created who have become real to me and how I have to keep writing their stories so that I can find out what happens to them.

What about you? When you have writer's block, what are the reasons why?

(I Wish I Could) Just Say No

2011-07-05T08:07:00.001-05:00

There are some situations in life where it's easy to say no. For example, "No, I do not want to get into your car, because I don't know you or your friends. Even though you may look like a bunch of guys who are just out cruising and think it's acceptable to yell out invitations to girls like me on the sidewalk who are not hookers but are just trying to go to the drugstore to buy candy (er, vitamins), I have seen enough Lifetime movies and episodes of E! Investigates not to get into the cars of people that I don't know."

Or "No, I do not want to invest in your company, because when I Googled the name on your business card to see what kind of business you were in, I found a bunch of online reviews from people with the word "SCAM" in almost every review. Also, I don't even have any money to invest, since I am a broke grad student who isn't even entirely sure what a "portfolio" is. If I asked my fellow grad students about it, they'd probably get into an extensive discussion about the literary significance of the word "portfolio" and then write scholarly papers about it."

But on the other hand, it can be hard to say no in other instances, because I often feel guilty about refusing other people's requests/offers. And in some cases, I have no choice but to say yes.

It's not like I am too chicken to say no, because I have learned to be more assertive and to put my foot down in plenty of situations. I just have to be careful about how I say no, however, because it's not like I can just say whatever I want without having to deal with the consequences. Here are two examples of situations where I wish I could say no and say exactly why :

To my students when they ask multiple times to be excused from class/completing their homework on time because of some kind of "emergency", which in some cases really is an emergency, but more often than not translates into "I didn't get my homework done last night. I don't want you to know that instead of finishing my paper, I was finishing a Real World marathon." Or "I don't feel like coming to class because I've only missed class, like, five times already, which is nothing compared to how many times other people in the class have been absent, so I should be excused." Or "I can't think of any reason why I should be excused from class so I'm just going to tell you it's an emergency. That way, you won't try to invade my privacy by asking me any questions".

When they ask to be excused, I remind them about how attendance is part of their grade; I also tell them that it's their responsibility to get their work done on time even if they don't come to class. I do enforce my attendance policy, but there are a few situations where I have no choice but to make exceptions. For example, some students have family responsibilities. A few have health issues that keep them out of school for several days (or weeks) at a time.

But on the other hand, multiple absences (and excuses) can be problematic because the students will miss out on a lot if they don't come to class. It's also problematic for me because then I'm stuck with a lot of late work to grade. If they have legitimate excuses for being absent, then I will try to work with them, as long as they put in the effort to make up for what they missed.

But once a student told me that he couldn't come to class because of a family emergency; I saw him hanging out in the quad an hour later with his friends. Another student e-mailed me about how her grandmother died; I checked all of the e-mails this student had sent and realized that that same grandmother had died at least three times. Not all students are like this, of course, but I've learned to be wary when I keep hearing the same excuses over and over again and multiple requests for time off from class.

So here's what I wish I could say: NO, you can't miss class AGAIN. Even though I love teaching, there are some days where I wish I could blow off work and just take a nap/watch TV/accidentally on purpose trip people who blow their cigarette smoke in my face when they walk in front of me. But part of being a grownup is accepting your responsibilities and doing what you have to do, even if you don't always want to do it. So if I have to be here, then so do you, kid.

To retail employers who expect employees like me to have flexible schedules. One of the things that you're going to see most often in ads for retail jobs are the words "flexible schedules". A lot of people who work in retail also have day jobs; they work at night and on the weekends. However, when you work in retail, your schedule is likely to change every week; you're much more likely to get hired and get more hours if you are available to work any time, any day.

This does make sense; retail employers can't always guarantee regular hours because it often depends on how much (or little) money the store is making and whether or not the employees meet their sales goals.

Also, stores aren't typically open from just 9-5, because that's when everyone's at work. So you have to be willing to work until the wee hours in the evenings and weekends, or get up in the wee hours in order to go to work (side note: why do they call it the "wee hours"? It's not like when I wake up at six A.M. to go to work or get ready to work until late at night I automatically think, "Yay! I get to go stand for eight hours and pressure people to buy stuff that they could get at half-price at one of the discount stores, but I can't tell them that because it's bad for business. I also think I may or may not have sold my soul to the god of retail for an employee discount. WEEEEEE!!!!").

I tell my employers what my availability is, and I try to keep my schedule open so that I can get more shifts. I try not to request time off unless I have a legitimate and unavoidable reason for missing work, and even if I do request a day off I'll do it several days in advance.

But here's what I wish I could say: No, I don't want a schedule that changes every week, because that makes it very hard for me to schedule anything else (including other paying jobs that would help me support myself, because I sure as hell ain't earning enough at this job to pay all my bills) into my life. Did you ever stop to think that maybe the other employees who don't show up to work/show up late/call in "sick"/switch shifts wouldn't do that so often if they had a reliable schedule?

FYI: I almost never show up late, because I always leave early to go to work. And I never call in sick unless I literally can't get out of bed. I developed this work ethic for all my jobs largely because of teaching. Most college teachers I know don't really get sick days. If we don't go to class, then there is no class. Even if I have a cold I'll go to class and just bring Kleenex, cough drops, and hand sanitizer with me; I don't worry about the students catching it from me because more often than not they're the ones who infected me in the first place. They're always coughing and sneezing in class, to the point that I want to wear a Hazmat suit when I teach.

What about you? What are examples of situations where you wish you could say no but you feel pressured to/have no choice but to say yes?

Rainbow Bracelets and Guys in Shorts

2011-06-27T14:40:00.000-05:00

As a workaholic, I'm a big fan of to-do lists. It gives me a sense of accomplishment and purpose to be able to cross something off my list, and that list enables me to get a lot of stuff done. Without a list of things to do, I'm more than likely going to waste time (and if there's one thing a workaholic hates, it's wasting time instead of getting things done or working) and veg out in front of the TV and watch Law and Order reruns. (I heart you, Sam Waterston!)

Without a to-do list I'll spend hours surfing the Internet, watching funny YouTube videos and reading weird news stories, like the controversy about the guy who was kicked off a flight because he refused to pull up his baggy pants, but a guy on a different flight who wore no pants at all except for a pair of women's underwear was allowed on board. (Side note: That story made me wonder if he normally walks around with just women's underwear on. Like, does he go to work or the grocery store dressed like that? He looked pretty pleased with himself in the picture that was taken of him, so I'm thinking that he probably did it just to see if he could get away with it. Or maybe he really does go out in women's underwear on a regular basis.)

I don't make a to-do list every day; usually I'll allow myself some flexibility by making at least one list per week. That way, I'll have several days to get everything done. Below are some of the things on my to-do list from this past week:

1. Go to the grocery store before 10 A.M. in order to avoid accidentally slamming my shopping cart into someone else's and to avoid standing in lines behind people who sigh really loudly and make passive-aggressive remarks about people who cut in front of them (though I must admit that sometimes I'll sigh and make remarks too, or, if I've already had coffee that morning, I'll say, "HEY! The back of the line is over THERE, MISTER! Yeah, I'm talking to YOU!")

What I did: I went to the grocery store before 10 A.M. I tried to avert my eyes and not look judgmental when I saw someone trying unsuccessfully to climb over the barricade to the liquor aisle (in Illinois it's illegal to sell alcohol before noon).

2. Figure out more ways to save/earn money, since I recently realized after getting paid from my retail job that my earnings from that job don't actually cover half my bills like I thought they would (I miscalculated my earnings, mainly because of the taxes); they barely cover a third of my expenses.

What I did: I picked up an extra shift at my retail job, and I worked extra hours at my website job too. I went online and searched through my grocery store's weekly ads to find coupons and managed to clip a few, though unfortunately I didn't have as much luck as the folks on Extreme Couponing do in finding coupons. (It's just as well, because I don't have room in my apartment for fifty extra pounds of meat or a dozen extra bottles of laundry detergent. I suppose I would if I took out my furniture, but I don't think that it would be very comfortable to sleep on several boxes of frozen dinners or a bunch of milk jugs.)

I thought of other possible ideas for saving money. Idea #1: Shave all my hair off so that I don't have to spend money on haircuts or hair products anymore. On the other hand, since it's summer I'd probably have to spend money on sunscreen so that my head doesn't get sunburned. I have a round face, so if I did get sunburned my head would end up looking like one of those talking M&Ms or a giant red gumball with eyes.

3. Go to the only place in Chicago where it is almost guaranteed that I won't get hit on by guys: Boystown, to attend either the Pride Parade or the Pride Festival.

What I didn't do: Go to the Pride Festival. When I first moved to Chicago, I went to as many festivals as I could like any other wide-eyed tourist who had not yet realized that most festivals sold the same overpriced food, drinks, and souvenirs. Also, the thing about hanging out at an outdoor festival for too long is that you're often left with no choice but to use one of the Port-a-Potties. And in my opinion, using one of those is like eating off of someone else's dirty dinner plate or blowing your nose with a used Kleenex. I did go to the Pride Festival last year, though, and I had a nice time; I also got a free rainbow bracelet and a free magnet with a picture of a male underwear model on it.

What I did: attend the Pride Parade. I saw Governor Quinn, along with several other politicians, waving at the people watching on the sidelines. I waved back. I saw drag queens dancing in colorful costumes. I saw a bunch of women on motorcycles riding around, including one woman riding a motorbike with an inflatable woman sitting behind her. I saw a guy wearing a coconut shell bra and a hula skirt playing the trombone. I saw a bunch of people yell out, "WOOOO!!" every time another float or a group of dancers/politicians/activists passed by. (And eventually, I started WOOO-ing too.)

I saw several good-looking guys in tight shorts dancing to songs by Ke$ha and Lady Gaga. Side note: I couldn't help secretly wishing that there was at least one event each year where good-looking, muscular, straight guys felt comfortable enough to walk around in tight shorts (though preferably not women's underwear. I'm not judging any guy who does wear it; it's just that I'd rather not walk behind any guy on the street wearing nothing but a pair of women's underwear, you know?) with their shirts off like a lot of the good-looking, muscular, gay guys do at the Pride Parade.

It was one of those rare days in Chicago where the weather was beautiful and mild. It was also one of those rare days where I didn't feel tired, stressed out, or easily irritated by anything and everything. Instead, I felt happy to be watching the parade, happy to be living in Chicago, a city that still thrills and surprises me even though I've lived here for years, happy to be outside, happy to be around other people who were cheering and waving for the beaded necklaces that the people in the parade were throwing to them. But most of all, I felt happy because I didn't have to work.

What about you? What do you think of to-do lists? If you have one, then what's on your list?

Side note: Michelle Davidson Argyle, who is a novelist and writes the blog The Innocent Flower (her blog on writing was one of the first blogs I started following when I first started blogging, because it's filled with interesting stories about her experiences as a writer and great advice on writing and self-publishing), is celebrating the one-year anniversary of the release of her novella Cinders. In honor of her celebration, she's hosting a giveaway where you can win an autographed copy of her book and an autographed bookmark. Stop by her blog to check it out!

Writing Space

2011-06-21T01:03:00.000-05:00

I've been having difficulty lately finding a good place to write. Even though I usually prefer peace and quiet when I work (blame it on the fact that I grew up in a small town, which was always quiet, except when people were playing sports or gossiping about each other), I don't mind the noisy atmosphere of cafes. (You'd think that after living in Chicago for several years I'd be more tolerant of noise by now. You'd think, right?)

What does bother me, however are the Wi-Fi freeloaders. I mentioned them in my last post; they're the people who camp out for hours with their laptops and don't buy anything (they're even more annoying than the people with laptops who nurse one cup of coffee for hours). Even though they can get free Wi-Fi at the public library (where they're obviously not expected to buy anything), they think it makes more sense to take up extra tables and prevent paying customers at cafes from sitting down.

Freeloader #1: Did you see that guy's hair? I'm totally going to tweet about him.
Freeloader #2: Too late. I already did.
Freeloader #1: What? I can't believe you did that! I wanted to tweet about it!
Freeloader #2: You're just jealous because I have more followers than you.
What I wish I could have said: Tweet this, freeloaders! (I also wish I could have raised my coffee cup high over my head, so that they'd throw themselves over their laptops, sobbing, "NO! Not our laptops! Take us instead!")

I've tried writing in the library at school, because theoretically it's a quiet place to work. I say "theoretically" because several of the undergrads go there to do anything but study. It's often noisier in there than it is at Wrigley Field on game day, or the bars in Wrigleyville after the game is over.

Undergrad #1: I can't believe the professor assigned us all this homework! I have no time to work on this.
Me: Maybe if you had done something other than sit there and complain for the past two hours, you'd have had time to get it done.
Undergrad #2: Haha, check out what somebody carved on the desk! I didn't even know that was a swear word!
Undergrad #3: Oh, I just got another text message from that girl I told you about.
Me: I know. So does everyone else in this library. If you're going to keep texting, do you think you could at least silence your phone before I silence it for you?
Undergrad #1: Have you seen my study partner? JANE? WHERE ARE YOU? I'M NOT DOING THIS PROJECT ALL BY MYSELF!
Me: Do not start throwing things. Do not start throwing things.

I've also tried writing on the buses and trains, because I spend a lot of time commuting every day. But because it's tourist season I'm often stuck standing. When I do get a seat, I've found that people often sneak peeks at what I'm writing.

Creepy Guy sitting next to me: What are you writing?
Me: Um, I'm just writing in my journal.
Creepy Guy: Can I read it?
Me: No.
Creepy Guy: Since you're writing stuff down anyway, can you at least write down your phone number for me?
Me: No. I have to go far away now.

I've also tried writing in my apartment, but it always feels like it's eighty or ninety degrees in there, even in the winter.

Me: It is so hot in here! I feel like I'm melting! I'm meeellltttinngg!
Guy passing by outside: Sounds like the Wicked Witch of the Midwest is freaking out again.

Since it gets so hot in my apartment, I have to turn on my fan and open my windows. However, due to faulty screens, bugs keep crawling into my apartment.

Me: Oh, dear God, exactly how many legs does that thing have? Get away, Demon Bug, GET AWAY!

So I'm still trying to find a place to write. But I did read this interesting post recently by a former publishing intern; her post made me think that if she can write her novel in a van, I should be able to get my writing done anywhere. That's if I can restrain myself from hurling coffee or library books at loud people.

Here are some pictures of writing spaces that I thought looked cool:

(Novelist Will Self's writing space)

(Writer Belle Yang's writing room)

What about you? Where do you like to write? Which places do you think are most/least conducive to writing?

Settling for Less

2011-06-14T00:22:00.000-05:00

I once went on a date with a guy who went off on a rant about all the reasons he disagreed with the Catholic Church. This was after I told him that I was Catholic. I didn't say, "Well, enjoy hell then, sinner." I did try to defend my religion, but I admit that I didn't respond as well as I could have; I was caught off guard by what he said. But I don't feel like I should have to defend Catholicism, especially not on a date.

I used to know some people my age who went to church every day. A couple of them criticized me because I only went to Mass on Sundays and on holy days of obligation. I didn't feel like I had to defend myself to them either, and I didn't like feeling like I had to.

Side note: I'd like to dedicate Sarah Bareilles' song, "King of Anything" to those holier-than-thou people and that guy. I wish I'd heard that song at the time, so that I could say those lines back to them.

I grew up Catholic and I still practice my religion, but I don't try to pressure anyone to accept my beliefs. I figure everyone has a right to their own beliefs, and as long as we can all find a way to get along in spite of our differences, it's okay.

I'm embarrassed to admit that I did call that guy after the date; in spite of his rant, I thought he seemed like a nice guy. But we didn't go out again. Looking back now, I know that it never would have worked out anyway. I would have been settling for someone whose criticism of my religion made me want to do something very un-Christian to his face just so he would stop talking.

It's easy to make the decision not to "settle" for someone, because we can live without dates and romantic relationships. What we can't live without, however, is money. That means we often have no choice but to settle for jobs that we dislike because we can't support ourselves without the money that comes from those jobs.

Recently I burst into tears in front of my coworkers at my retail job. There wasn't any specific reason why, or maybe it was because of several reasons. I cried because I was so stressed out over having to work almost every day, week after week, because this job was taking up a lot more time than I thought it would. I cried because I was just so tired; I only got to sit down for fifteen minutes during each shift, even if the shift lasted for more than seven or eight hours. I cried because I hadn't had time to do any of the things that were important to me, like write fiction, blog, or work on my dissertation. I cried because I hated this job and I felt trapped.

I could have walked out. I could have gone all Godzilla on the store and knocked all the merchandise off the shelves while growling incoherently and the other customers fled in terror.

But I didn't. I eventually stopped weeping, dried my tears, and went back to work. To make matters worse, a few days later a customer I was helping recognized me. This customer turned out to be one of the popular girls from my high school. She is now married to one of the popular guys, who was with her at the store, along with their young children. She runs her own business now.

I felt embarrassed to be ringing up her purchase, wearing a uniform that was several sizes too big for me, with my hair pointing in several different directions, while she looked very pretty and polished. I didn't tell her about all the things I've done since high school: graduate school, teaching, etc. I felt like I was a sixteen-year-old high school student again on Valentine's Day, when several of the girls were carrying around bouquets of roses that their boyfriends had given them and I was carrying around an armful of books.

I don't know how much longer I can keep working at this job. I haven't had any time off this summer, and even a workaholic like me needs to rest. I'm supposed to turn in a draft of my dissertation to my committee soon, but I haven't been able to work on it in weeks. I come home every day too exhausted to do anything. I got my paycheck recently and it's barely enough to cover half my bills, despite all the hours I worked.

Being so tired and stressed out has also made me feel angry about little things. I feel angry when I go to a coffeehouse and I see freeloaders who are just there for the free Wi-Fi; they don't even bother to buy anything and they hog tables for hours. I feel angry when the bus driver passes my stop even though I'm standing right there, so that I have to go running after it. I feel angry that I applied for a good job that would have allowed me to escape retail, but I was passed over for someone who had about five years less experience than I do. And I don't want to feel so angry, tired, and stressed out all the time.

I still have my website job, and I have a small emergency fund. But to be honest I'm almost tempted to go into credit card debt if that's what it took to escape this job. But I've never quit a paying job before unless I had another job waiting. I've applied for other jobs, but I know that if I got another retail job it'd probably be more of the same thing. It's just that when I think of the rest of the summer being like this, I'm afraid that I might lose it at work again. And I'm not so sure that I'm willing to settle for a job that makes me so unhappy just so I can get paid.

Have you ever quit a job before? Have you ever kept working at a job that you disliked? What would you do if you were in my situation?

That's Professor Workaholic to You

2011-06-07T23:11:00.002-05:00

One thing I like to do every day is read advice columns, like Dear Amy, Dear Abby, and Dear Prudence. In my opinion, the typical advice column could also be called Obsessive Neurotic Central, so it's like I'm reading the stories of "my people".

I read in an advice column once that some people don't like calling professors "Dr.". These people felt that academics didn't have the right to be called "Dr." since they weren't "real" doctors.

I know that a professor and a medical doctor have very different work responsibilities. Professors don't save lives or teach people how to safeguard their health (except of course for the professors who teach med students and also practice medicine). But at the same time, it takes more years to earn a master's degree and a doctorate than it does to earn a medical degree. So when I do finally complete my Ph.D., I can guarantee you that I will identify myself as "Dr." or "Professor", because I believe that I'll have earned that right.

I've been teaching college students for years now, but I don't really consider myself a professor yet; I'm not a full-time faculty member and I'm still working on my Ph.D. I've had several titles, including "adjunct", "instructor", "lecturer", and "teaching assistant", even though I was basically doing the same job under all these titles. But I have my own ideas for what my title could be, though they probably wouldn't catch on since they're too long. I still think they're fairly accurate though.

For example, instead of being an "adjunct", I might call myself one of the following:

The Grader of Papers

The Collector of Excuses from students who don't think it's necessary to come to class or turn in work on time

That Poor Instructor who practically had to arm-wrestle one of her fellow instructors for desk space in the one office that all the adjuncts/teaching assistants share whereas the professors get their own offices that they only use once or twice a week.

The Invisible Woman who never gets to go to most of the department meetings since she has no say in how the department is run

The Ultimate Multi-Tasker who works three jobs and has no time or money for vacations

Having spent years working in retail, I've found that retail employers are fond of job titles too. They use titles like "Team Member", "Sales Associate", "Client Host," and "Brand Ambassador". I think they use these fancy titles as a way to make the employees feel better about their jobs, and perhaps to try and make up for the low wages. But personally, I'd rather just be known as That Chick with the Name Tag as long as I got paid more.

Instead of "Sales Associate," I could also be called:

She Who Operates the Cash Register

The Folder of Clothes

The Maid who picks up after all the customers who believe that tossing the store's items on the floor is perfectly acceptable

Miss Smiley Face who smiles even after a customer tries on seven different outfits, each in at least two sizes and three different colors and then decides not to buy anything

The Bookseller who doesn't actually succeed in getting most people to buy books because they prefer to spend two hours in the store reading for free rather than buy anything

The Patron Saint of Patience, because ANYONE would need an incredible amount of patience to listen to the same CD played over the store's speakers OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN EVERY SINGLE WRETCHED DAY

What do you think of job titles? If you could come up with your own job title, what would you call yourself?

Side note: Stop by Theresa Milstein's blog Substitute Teacher's Saga (and follow her too if you haven't already, because she's a great blogger, writer, and teacher). She's hosting a contest where you can win a free copy of Elana Johnson's YA novel Possession.

A Salesgirl's Requests

2011-05-30T09:03:00.000-05:00

Recently, there was a big fuss over a list of "diva demands" that the singer Katy Perry made. When she performed in a concert at Australia, she had very specific instructions for her dressing room: "a dressing room draped in cream or soft pink, with two comfortable egg chairs, a 'perspex modern style' coffee table and two 'french ornate style floor lamps." She also had a very specific driver's policy: "chauffeurs must not start a conversation with Katy, stare at her through the rear view mirror, or ask for autographs or pictures, especially while driving."

I've heard of other "diva demands" that celebrities make. For example, I read an article that said that Van Halen demands "a bowl of M&Ms with the brown ones removed" and Cher demands "a separate room for her wigs". Whenever I hear these types of stories about celebrities, I'm more amused than anything else. They're famous, they're rich, and they let their "power" go to their heads a little (or a lot).

But it made me think of what it would be like if "ordinary" workers like me could make demands of their employers. For example, I recently started a new part-time job selling overpriced souvenirs at the Tourist Trap. It made me reflect on all the retail jobs that I've had over the past several years. I wouldn't dare to actually present my retail employers with a list of demands, because I would definitely get in trouble and possibly lose my job. (Either that or I'd be given a list of b.s. reasons why the employers can't or won't fulfill those demands.) But I thought of a few "requests" that I wish I could make.

1. Give me a uniform that actually fits. All the retail jobs that I've had set up very strict dress codes for their employees: no tattoos, no dyed hair, no "inappropriate piercings", no T-shirts that say "This store SUCKS and everyone who shops here is a SUCKER." Dress codes don't bother me, especially because I wore a uniform for twelve years of Catholic school.

But if you're going to make me wear a uniform with the store's logo printed all over it, do you think you could give me a uniform that isn't two or three sizes too big? And also? If you're going to schedule me to work three days in a row, do you think you could give me more than one uniform? That way I won't have to hand wash my uniform every night (I'm not getting paid enough to use the coin-operated laundry machine more than once a week) or make the choice to not wash my uniform and then worry about customers backing away from me and wrinkling their noses, saying, "What's that smell?"

2. Ease up on the pressure about the "add-ons". When you go shopping, do you ever feel slightly annoyed because the cashier or the salesperson tries to get you to "add on" to the purchase by suggesting additional items that you could buy? Or does the cashier ever try to pressure you to sign up for the store credit card?

It used to annoy me too, until I had to do the same thing at all my retail jobs. FYI, most salespeople don't really want to pressure you to buy something that you don't really need. We also don't like reciting the same sales pitch a hundred (or more) times a day. But we also have supervisors and managers breathing down our necks (this is literally true; sometimes they'll stand there and watch us interact with customers, and then when the customers leave the managers will tell us everything we did wrong) to make sure that we get customers to "add on" to their purchases.

Doing these things helps the store make money. The salespeople are given sales quotas to fulfill each day, and if we don't make our quotas, then one of several things could happen: 1) one of the managers will take us aside and counsel us on how to do our jobs more effectively; 2) we won't get as many shifts as the people who do make their quotas; 3) we won't get chosen as Employee of the Month, and then we won't get the extra few bucks added to our paychecks or the gift card to a restaurant that we couldn't afford to get into otherwise on our paltry wages.

3. If you're not going to let me earn a commission, at least let me keep the tips that customers try to give me. Occasionally a nice customer will have a few cents in change but will tell me to keep it. What the customer doesn't know, however, is that I'm not allowed to keep it. Baristas at coffeehouses are allowed to get tips, but cashiers at retailers are not.

Don't get me wrong. Since I work in retail and not food service, I don't expect tips. It's not like I'm going to set out a "Tips" cup by the cash register. But if a customer offers me a tip, I'd like to keep it, especially since it usually only adds up to a dollar or two a day. And seeing as how the store makes more money in one day than I do in a year, would it really be losing any money if I were to keep those tips? I don't keep them, but it'd be nice if I could. It's not like I'm taking money out of the register, and I would never do that either.

4. Positive reinforcement doesn't mean as much as a salary that I could actually live on. At one of my retail jobs, we were given stickers if we made our sales quota for the day. Getting stickers for good work made me happy when I was ten. But now that I'm thirty and I have expenses that don't include bubble gum and Sweet Valley Twins books, a sticker isn't going to mean much to me. Or my landlord.

I admit that it is nice when my employers praise me for a job well done. But you know what else would be nice? Not having to worry about how I'm going to pay my rent when the store cuts my hours because it's providing paid training to a new group of employees or because it's not making enough money.

5. Please stop micro-managing me. The thing about working in retail is that there are always at least half a dozen supervisors and managers who are watching my every move. I can understand why they want to make sure that every employee is doing his or her job, because one of their main concerns is the bottom line. It is a business after all, and they need to make sure that the store is making money.

But please don't make me refold a whole stack of sweaters that I've been folding for the past ten minutes just because all the size stickers don't perfectly line up, especially since the next group of customers is going to undo the whole stack in five seconds. Please don't reprimand me because I didn't greet that one customer because I was busy refolding those sweaters. Please don't remind me six times in one shift to get as many customers to "add on" to their purchases as possible. Please don't lecture the staff about communication issues if I can't get a straight answer from you about why I didn't get a significant raise (or any raise at all) after working for the store for one year or more. It can be really frustrating to have half a dozen people telling me what to do, and it can be even more frustrating when they keep telling me the same thing over and over and over again, especially if I'm not even making any mistakes. (It's like they're the Energizer Bunnies of retail.)

6. Give me a more reasonable amount of time for breaks. It's not unusual to only get one ten minute break in a five hour shift, or to only get one half-hour lunch break in a six hour shift. On my last shift, I got to sit down for exactly five minutes. That's because it took me more than twenty minutes to navigate the crowd of tourists at the food court, get the free soda that all the employees were raving about as one of our "perks" for working at the store, and find my way back to the breakroom. From now on, I'm just going to bring my lunch, but it's hard to figure out what to bring because there's no refrigerator where I can store it.

I did say that I am grateful to have part-time jobs that can help me pay the bills while I am in graduate school. When I took this job at Tourist Trap, I thought about holding on to it even after the summer ended. It would mean extra money that I could definitely use. But I already have my hands full during the school year with my dissertation, teaching, and my website job; I'm not sure if I could take on another job. I don't think I want to, especially because after my last shift, I came home so tired that I immediately went to bed and slept for four hours. I woke up at ten P.M. and was too tired to eat dinner, so I went back to sleep again and slept through the night. I haven't been that exhausted since I was an adjunct with three jobs, working seven days a week. So it's in situations like these that I don't feel grateful so much as just worn out, angry, and bitter because I can't do anything to change the way retail employees are treated. And I feel even more worn out when I think about how I can't just quit, because I need this job.

Now that I think about it, it does bother me when divas like Katy Perry (though I do love her music) make outrageous demands, especially since "commoners" like me aren't in a position to make demands of our employers. If I were to present any of my retail employers with these requests, I'm fairly certain that there would be at least a dozen people waiting to take my job if I were to "act out" too much.

If you could present your employer with a list of "demands", what would they be? (I'm not suggesting you actually do this.) But if you could do it, what kinds of things would you ask for?

Not My Real Job

2011-05-25T22:45:00.001-05:00

Recently, I had a dream about chemistry bachelor #4. I dreamed that we were having drinks at the place where we first met in person, except there was no one else there but us. Well, there was one other customer there: a clown who looked like one of those evil clowns from a scary movie who seem nice and unassuming at first, right before they snap and start chasing people around with knives. Geraldo Rivera was serving us drinks. (Side note: I wish I could say I was making this up. But I'm not. I just have really weird dreams.)

I'm not sure what the dream meant; obviously, I doubt that it meant that bachelor #4 and I are meant to be together. I also kind of have this phobia about clowns, which may explain why the evil clown in my dream kept grinning at me in a sinister way while making balloon animals. (Even in my sleep I'm neurotic.) But I thought that maybe I should face my fears of rejection and go ahead and contact chemistry bachelor #4 rather than wait for him to call me.

I left him a message saying that if he ever wanted to hang out again, he could call me. But he didn't.

It was disappointing, but to be honest, I was more disappointed when NBC cancelled Law and Order (I curse you, NBC! A plague on all your reality shows!). I didn't really feel that strongly about this guy, but I was willing to meet up with him again to see if anything more could develop. Obviously, he didn't feel the same way. But on the other hand, I'm trying to view rejection in dating in a similar way that I view rejection when it comes to writing: I'd rather be able to say that I put myself out there than to say that I was too afraid to try at all.

Anyway, my chemistry.com membership recently expired, and I'm actually kind of relieved. It's nice to be taking a break from online dating, though I think I'm only going to take a break for a few weeks. Once it gets to be fall, I'll be extra busy with teaching again, and I won't have as much time for dating. So I figure I'll try again in June or July. But next time, I'm going to rejoin okcupid (I was a member two years ago) because it's a free dating site, and I can't afford to renew my chemistry membership right now.

In the meantime, I'm going to focus on my work. This summer I'll be working on my dissertation as well as projects for my website job, and I'm going to be tutoring the daughter of one of my parents' friends, since she's taking summer classes. I'm also going to be working yet another retail job; this time it's at a place that I will refer to in this blog as the Tourist Trap.

I didn't really want to work in retail again. I had hoped to get a job as a barista at one of the coffeehouses that I frequent, because then I could get free coffee. I also thought it'd be nice to get a job in an office, because at least then I could sit down rather than stand for eight hours a day. I didn't want to work as a waitress, even though I've heard that the servers at upscale restaurants make a lot of money. I can hardly walk without tripping over myself (again, I wish I could say I was making this up), and so I'm pretty sure that most (if not all) of the customers would end up wearing their food rather than eating it by the end of my first shift.

But the retail employers were the ones who quickly responded with job offers, since I have years of retail experience as a bookseller and as a clothing store employee. And it's not like I could say to them, "I'm actually waiting to hear back from the employers that I'd rather work for. Could I call you back if they don't hire me?"

When you work in retail, you have to be willing to work nights and weekends, and you have to be willing to work on holidays. That means that if your family lives in a different state like mine does, you have to accept the fact that you can't celebrate Thanksgiving or Christmas with them, at least not until January. You also have to stand for several hours at a time and smile at every single customer, even if on the inside you're thinking, I think my lips are going to fall off my face if I keep smiling.

Working in retail generally means working for low wages, even if the products that you're selling are worth more than what you would earn in a day. Some places offer "competitive wages", but I've steered clear of jobs that pay on commission; I'd still have to work eight or nine hour shifts with no guarantee of making a lot of money. As Barbara Ehrenreich did an excellent job of proving in her book Nickel and Dimed, it's not possible to support yourself on one minimum-wage job; you have to have at least two. The retail employers try to make up for the low wages with "benefits" like employee discounts and "gifts" like free water bottles and the occasional pizza or doughnuts at store meetings. I think it's because ultimately those things cost employers less money than it would to pay their employees higher wages. I'd rather just get paid more. But I digress.

When I first started working in retail, I was also working as an adjunct instructor. I always thought that once I started teaching, I wouldn't have to work minimum-wage jobs anymore. When I was an undergrad, I thought that all I had to do was earn good grades, work hard, and gain experience in my chosen field; I thought that that would be enough to enable me to succeed. But despite the fact that I was teaching at more than one school, I was barely earning enough to make ends meet. Also, I couldn't get health insurance or benefits as an untenured college instructor, but I could get those things as a part-time retail associate. So I started working in a bookstore; I'd usually teach in the mornings and sell books at night and on the weekends.

At first I was embarrassed to be working a minimum-wage job. I thought that I should only be doing work that my education had geared me for. I also thought it would be embarrassing to be several years older than most of my coworkers and even some of my supervisors.

I was also afraid of what my students would think if they saw me shelving books or operating a cash register. I thought that one of my former high school or college classmates, now rich and successful, would stride into the store in a business suit, take one look at me, and exclaim, "I can't believe you work here!" And then that classmate would laugh and tell all our other former classmates. When I did run into people I knew, I felt like I had to explain to them that this retail job wasn't my real job; I was also working as a teacher.

But as I got to know my coworkers, I started thinking a lot more about the lives and stories of low-wage workers and why they had these jobs. A lot of them were college students who were working their way through school. Others were retired high school teachers or laid-off corporate employees. There were also aspiring novelists, poets, musicians, and actors. Others were like me: people who had liberal arts degrees (and in some cases, advanced degrees) but couldn't find enough (or any) work in their fields that would pay the bills, so they had to moonlight in retail. What we all had in common was that even though we didn't like the long hours on our feet, the repetitive work, or the low wages, we were still willing to work hard and do what we had to do in order to survive. (Side note: I also learned that it is not unusual for adjunct instructors to work multiple jobs. Most of the adjuncts I knew worked at least two or three jobs.)

It's definitely humbling to be earning minimum wage at age thirty when other people my age or younger are making millions. But I know that deep down I shouldn't feel embarrassed about working in retail, because it's honest work and I'm doing what I can to support myself. So are all the other people working alongside me.

Side note: Check out this article on people who are "overqualified and underemployed"; it refers to part-time jobs as "survival jobs", which is a term that I really like and that is definitely accurate.

Working these types of jobs makes me appreciate teaching and my graduate work even more. It motivates me to do everything I can to succeed in my field, even though it is difficult to find time to balance multiple jobs and my graduate work. Although teachers don't earn a lot of money either, at least teaching is a job that I am truly passionate about and that I hope to do until I retire, which for me will probably be when I'm no longer physically able to work or when I'm 90, whichever comes first.

What about you? Have you ever been in a situation where you were underemployed and underpaid?

Loneliness is Good for the Writer's Soul

2011-05-20T12:14:00.003-05:00

I first started writing stories when my third grade teacher showed us how as part of a creative writing assignment. I wrote stories (complete with illustrations) about a girl my age who lived in the woods. I wish I'd kept them.

I started reading a lot when I was in the third grade too. I read through almost all the books in my teacher's classroom library and earned several of those Book-It Pizza Hut gift certificates (remember those?). I especially enjoyed Beverly Cleary's books, because she seemed to understand just how little girls my age viewed the world.

I kept reading all the books I could get my hands on, and I kept writing stories and jotting down my ideas and feelings in journals too. One reason I read and wrote so much was because I didn't have any close friends in grade school. I grew up in a very small Midwestern town and went to an even smaller Catholic school; the cliques formed in the first grade and more or less stayed intact through senior year of high school.

I always hated recess, because I used to stand on the sidelines and watch the girls play tag or other games. I'd call out tentatively and hopefully, "Can I play?" Once in a while they'd say yes, and I'd run with them, happy that I got to be included. More often than not they'd say, "Sure, but after we finish this game," and I'd watch them keep playing until the bell rang and we had to go back inside.

I dreaded class field trips because of the bus rides. I usually didn't have anyone to sit with, so I was stuck sitting next to a teacher or by one of the "couples", who were never very happy to have me invade their "couple" time (yeah, like I was ecstatic about it).

I was one of the "smart" kids, so I wasn't completely ostracized. The other kids were usually nice to me when they needed help with their homework. And if one of the kids had a birthday party where the whole class was invited, then I would get invited too.

When I got to junior high and high school, though, kids started throwing parties where only the ones playing on sports teams or who were on the cheerleading squad were invited. In my hometown, sports was the main form of recreation, so if you weren't athletic, then you were "out".

So I played along for a while and joined several teams and even became a cheerleader for a while, even though I am one of the most physically uncoordinated people you will ever meet.

First of all, I almost always get hit by the ball, even when I'm watching a game; that was why I often would run away from the ball when it came at me, which really wasn't the best idea when I was playing in a game. Second of all, when it came to cheerleading, I couldn't do the splits, because I had this slightly irrational fear that I might rip my entire body in half if I did them. I also couldn't do cartwheels, because I was afraid I might land on my face and then the crowd in the bleachers would shrink back in horror at the sight of all the blood and think that they had stepped into a scary movie titled Klutzy Cheerleader Gone MAD.

The fact that I wasn't good at sports didn't help me make friends and only made even more people make fun of me. In both grade school and high school I was often the butt of other people's jokes. They'd laugh and say, "It's just a joke. Can't you take a joke?" I wasn't even allowed to feel bad about the fact that they didn't realize how much they hurt my feelings. Looking back now, I realize that I was overly sensitive sometimes, and I did take some things way too seriously. But sometimes, the other kids were just being jerks.

Since I didn't have any close friends to talk to when I was a kid, I wrote down a lot of what I was thinking and feeling in my journals. Being one of the "quiet" kids made me a lot more observant of the world around me.

For example, once I was walking around outside with a group of girls from my class; I think we were doing some kind of outdoor class project. I pointed at a bird hopping towards a tree and said to one of the girls, "Look at the way that bird is moving." She laughed and said, "I can't believe you even noticed that!" She told the other girls, who thought it was hilarious too. After that I kept most of my observations to myself, and wrote them down instead. I wrote down a description of the bird I'd seen, and I wrote down how I felt when the other girls laughed at me.

It wasn't until high school, when a few new students arrived, that I finally started making friends. I became a "drama geek", even though I was neither a good actor nor a good singer. That would probably be why I always ended up with the small roles, where I'd show up on stage and say three or four lines and then try not to trip as I made my exit. But even so, I finally made friends and was happy.

The only time I really felt left out in high school was when my friends started dating. My parents were very strict and said that I should focus on getting into a good college, not on getting a boyfriend. I was, however, allowed to go on "dates" to dances.

I don't really think of those nights out as real dates, though. I think of them more as "Let's all get dressed up in uncomfortable, expensive clothes that we will never wear again, and then let's all stand in a circle and show off the five dance moves that we know while we dance to interminably long songs like 'American Pie' and think to ourselves, For the love of God, does this song NEVER END? And then let's all start line-dancing (hey, this was the Midwest) or do the Macarena (hey, it was the 90s, and we all thought it was fun; it wasn't until later that we realized how stupid it looked). Then when the slow songs start up, let's all pair off and sway back and forth and try not to sweat on each other."

Because I didn't really date in high school, I stayed home on the nights that my friends and classmates went out with their boyfriends. I wrote stories about unrequited crushes, teenage bookworms like me, and I wrote down my dreams of escaping my hometown, even though I loved it because it was familiar and the only home that I knew at the time.

When I went to college in a bigger city, I felt freer to step outside of my shell because it was the first time in my life that I was living in a place where everyone didn't know me and every single embarrassing thing I'd ever done. It was easier to meet people during freshman year in particular, because everyone was new and eager to make friends. I went around with a group of girls and guys, but by sophomore year the big circle of friends became smaller; I stayed friends with the people I had more in common with.

At my college, a lot of people went off-campus on the weekends, usually because they went home to visit their families or boyfriends or girlfriends. I stayed on-campus, because my family lived in a different state. I started walking around the city and soaking up as much of it as I could.

A lot of the other college kids I knew were more interested in partying and going to bars. I went with them a few times. Once I went to a bar with a group of people. A few of the girls jumped up on top of the bar and started dancing. They beckoned to me to join them. I am not a very good dancer, and I didn't really want to advertise that fact to all the people watching. I also thought I might fall on top of the people watching and then there'd be all this beer and blood everywhere, and then I'd get thrown out of the bar. I remember looking around at all the people standing around drinking and checking each other out without talking to each other, and I remember how lonely and bored I felt. I made up an excuse and left early, and I wrote down a description of the scene for a story.

Now that I'm older, it's more difficult to meet new people and make friends. After college, most of the people I knew moved away to different cities for jobs or grad school. Now that I'm thirty, most of the people my age are married and have children now; they're busy with their families. Other people I know have full-time jobs and work long hours; they have little time for socializing. I don't get to go out a lot either, because I'm busy with school during the week. My retail jobs often require me to work on weekends when everyone else goes out.

But I do still have a small circle of friends from high school and college. We see each other once or twice a month. But to this day I am still a loner. I actually enjoy doing a lot of things on my own, like watch movies, explore interesting neighborhoods, go to museums on free admission days, watch plays at tiny theaters that sell inexpensive tickets, or eat lunch in cheap but good restaurants. I don't feel the need to always be with other people in order to do things that interest me. In college, I had this friend who would always ask me, "Who'd you go with?" whenever I told him about how I went to a concert or a new bookstore. He could never understand why I liked going on my own.

I read somewhere that solitude can be good for writers, because it makes us more observant of things that we might not have noticed if we were with other people. I think that that's true. And when you grow up feeling lonely a lot of the time, you can either spend a lot of time feeling sorry for yourself, or you can put that loneliness to good use. I don't think it's good to completely isolate yourself, and I don't do that anyway. But I think that the fact that I grew up feeling lonely a lot of the time fueled my writing. I don't think you can't be a good writer if you were/are popular, because you can still generate good material from the memories you make with your friends. Either way, I think it all depends on how you utilize your personality, childhood, and relationships with other people when you sit down to write.

What about you? What motivated you to start writing?

Moonlighting

2011-05-17T13:43:00.000-05:00

Now that summer is coming up, several people I know are making vacation plans. One person I know is spending several weeks in Europe; another person went to the Bahamas. Other people I know are planning cross-country road trips.

What will I be doing? Working, of course!

One reason that I work so much is that I can't afford not to. Several of the other grad students rely on student loans or help from spouses with full-time jobs; I don't have either. I have a teaching assistantship that provides me with a monthly stipend, but it isn't enough to live on.

I can't work a regular full-time job because the classes I teach are often in the middle of the day, and the class schedule changes every few months. So I "moonlight" by working additional part-time jobs to help make ends meet. I currently work part-time for a website.

I've worked as an adjunct instructor at different schools around the city, but I'm not working as an adjunct as often anymore because a) the adjunct positions are difficult to get since instructors are hired on an as-needed basis; b) the pay is extremely low, because apparently untenured faculty members don't need to have enough money for luxuries like rent and groceries; c) it can be very tiring to grade up to a hundred or more papers every week, especially when I also have my own graduate work to do.

College teaching jobs are difficult to come by in the summer. I was offered an adjunct position for a summer session at one school, but it paid less than what I would have earned working in retail for the same amount of time. I was lucky last summer in that I had a well-paying teaching job, but this summer I'm looking for at least one more part-time job to supplement the income from my website job.

So lately I've been scanning the Craiglist job ads for openings; I've also filled out online applications on the websites of different companies and stores that I'm interested in working for. I applied to a couple of temp agencies; one of them responded and said that I didn't have enough administrative experience (I haven't worked in an office since I did internships in college) but suggested that I apply to a different temp agency that offered warehouse positions.

(Side note: I read somewhere that people with graduate degrees are both overqualified and underqualified for many jobs outside of academia. I have heard of people with master's degrees and Ph.D.s succeeding outside of the academic world, but most people I know are working towards careers in teaching and research, as am I.)

I applied for other "assistant" positions at various offices, since they pay more than retail jobs, but it is true that they require a lot of skills that I don't have.

For example, I'm not familiar with several computer programs; although I can do my website job effectively, it's very likely that if I were given responsibility for most work involving a computer, at least two things could happen: a) the computer could break down, and then I, subsequently, would break down too, shrieking, "I don't know what happened! I just turned on the computer and it suddenly malfunctioned out of terror or revenge, or possibly both! I think it HATES me!" or b) I would lose a bunch of important files, and then the corporate employees would start talking to me like I'm eight years old in order to get me to understand how to work the darn thing, although eight year olds could probably operate computers better than I can, considering how technologically savvy kids are these days.

The one field outside of academia that I do have the most experience in is retail, so a lot of the jobs I've been applying for are in retail. Recently I went in for an interview for a "retail associate" position. When the interviewer told me how much the wages were, I swallowed hard but managed to keep a straight face, acting like it didn't bother me that I would have to work several hours to earn enough money to buy just one product from that store.

Even though I'm a workaholic, I wish that I had the time and money to go on my own vacation to some place I haven't been to before, like New York, Boston, or even a foreign country, like Italy. I don't get to do a lot of traveling; twice a year I visit my parents, who live in another state, for a couple weeks each time. But during the rest of the year, I am working.

Someday, when I complete my Ph.D., I hope to find a full-time teaching job. It's okay if it's not a tenured position (though that is the ultimate goal of most Ph.D. candidates), because those are extremely difficult to get. But for me, being able to teach at a good school and earn enough money to live on without having to work additional jobs would be more than enough.

The fact that I don't earn a lot of money makes me a lot more careful about how I manage the money that I do earn. That's why I read blogs about saving money, like the one that Donna Freedman writes. Her blog is called Surviving and Thriving and is filled with great advice. She also writes a column for MSN Money's Smart Spending. She and I have exchanged several e-mails, and she was kind and generous enough to give me coupons for a free movie pass and a free soda at the theater, as well as a coupon for a free frozen dinner. It thrilled me to be able to watch a movie for free, especially since I only watch movies two or three times a year. It also thrilled me that the soda they gave me at the theater was HUGE, because I love Coca-Cola, even though a couple of my brain cells probably die every time I drink it.

Incidentally, I recently won the grand prize in Donna's annual giveaway on her blog: a $100 Amazon.com gift card! Thank you, Donna! I was really hoping for the gift card, because my dissertation committee has assigned me a very long reading list that includes many books that aren't available in the library. A few months ago, I also won a prize in one of Donna's weekly giveaways (she hosts one every Friday on her blog); I won several different kinds of Godiva chocolate.

Winning prizes like that makes me think of those rare good weather days in Chicago; because the weather is so extreme the rest of the year, everyone always takes advantage of the mild weather on those days and goes outside. (Then again, for us Chicagoans, anything above thirty degrees or even anything in the double digits is considered a good day.) So winning a gift card and chocolate, saving money through coupons, and being careful about how much I spend and where I spend it have taught me to value my money. I've also learned to be grateful that I have the opportunity to work part-time jobs; even though the paychecks are smaller than I'd like, they're better than no paychecks at all.

It also makes me a lot more aware of the people who have less money or no money at all. So I try to help them in small ways. I can't write a big check to charities, but I usually say yes (unless I'm really hard up for cash) when the cashiers at grocery stores ask me if I'd like to donate a few bucks to whatever charity they're sponsoring that week. I also set aside a few dollars to buy Streetwise papers each week, which is the newspaper that homeless people sell on street corners; I think they get to keep $1.25 out of every $2. Sometimes I give sandwiches or bags of chips to other homeless people. I gave away bags of clothes and shoes that were still in good condition to the Salvation Army.

Donna also says that people should set aside a few bucks every week for a "cash cache", or an emergency fund. That's what I've been doing too. Recently I found a five dollar bill on the sidewalk when I was running errands. I put it into my "cash cache". Although it's technically my emergency fund, I've secretly named it my "vacation fund" as well. Someday, when I have enough money, I'd like to take my own vacation, escape from all of my work, and have a chance to breathe, for the first time in years.

What about you? Have you ever done any moonlighting? What kinds of part-time jobs/day jobs have you had, and what did you like best/least about them?

Like at First Sight

2011-05-10T14:53:00.001-05:00

Recently I went on a date with chemistry bachelor #4. We'd been e-mailing each other and talking on the phone for a while, so we finally set up a time to meet in person.

We had the usual first date conversation, where we asked each other questions about our work and what we did for fun. There were a few instances where I thought, Wait, did I tell him this story already the last time we talked on the phone? Or did I tell this story to one of my other first dates?

Then I started thinking that a) I've been on so many first dates that they've started to blur together; b) I should really come up with something else to talk about on first dates; maybe I should come up with a list of topics to talk about beforehand, except then I might forget what was on the list and I don't want to have to check it during the date. Then he'll think I'm so neurotic/nervous that I had to come up with a crib sheet before the date and he'll pretend that he has just come down with a life-threatening illness, right before he runs in the opposite direction; c) why is it I can always remember the time I started shrieking and jumping up and down like a monkey at the sight of a spider crawling on a student's shoulder when I was teaching a class, but I can't remember whether I told a guy the same story more than once?

It kind of seemed from his body language like he wasn't that interested in me. It seemed like he was ready to leave before the date was over. Also, he didn't look me in the eye a lot, similar to how chemistry bachelor #3 kept looking around the room when we went out. I don't expect a guy to look me in the eye the whole time. If he did, then I'd feel uncomfortable, like maybe he was trying to hypnotize me into giving him the phone number of one of my female friends or at least into paying for the drinks. But on the other hand, it's kind of hard to have a conversation with a guy when I find myself talking to his ear or his chin half the time.

With this guy, it wasn't "like at first sight," but it wasn't "dislike at first sight" either. It's one of those situations where I'm not sure what I feel about him just yet; I'd probably have to go out with him at least one or two more times before I figure it out.

But I'm not sure if I'll hear from him again, let alone go out with him again. Would I say yes if he asked me for a second date? Sure. He's a nice guy; he's attractive, smart, and we have a lot in common. But it's often hard to tell if you're really into someone on the first date, although I have been out with other guys where I knew right away that it was NEVER going to happen. That was usually because they a) didn't look like the pictures in their profiles, usually because the pictures were taken ten or fifteen years ago; b) said something insulting or offensive; c) touched my arm or my back so many times that I wished that I had worn body armor.

I'm going out of town soon, and he told me to call him when I come back. But he didn't say anything about calling me. Based on my past experience, if a guy wants to see me again, he will be the one to contact me first, and he doesn't wait very long before he does it. I'm not one of those people who thinks that the girl should never make the first move, but I'm not sure if I should with this guy. If I like a guy, I usually contact him within the first couple days after the date. But with this guy, I'm not sure if I should wait until I am back in town (which isn't going to be for several more days), or if I should call/text him sooner, or if I should just wait for him to call me.

As I came home from the date, I felt a little sad because this is the sixth guy I've gone out with in the past year; I went out with four guys from chemistry.com, and I went out with two guys I met on eharmony last summer. (But on the other hand, I suppose it's better than joining two online dating sites in one year and ending up with no dates at all.) It makes me wonder how many dates I'm going to have to keep going on before I make a real connection with someone. How many more times am I going to have to make small talk with someone before we can have a real conversation? How many more dates am I going to come home from feeling sad before I finally go on a date that makes me feel happy?

How many more times am I going to have to block e-mails from guys who a) are apparently allergic to dictionaries, or at least the spell check on their computers; (I don't expect their writing to be perfect, but if it's difficult to read it because there are errors in every sentence or even every word, then that's kind of a turn-off.) b) post fake pictures of famous actors or musicians in their profiles (I mean, seriously?); c) list all the reasons that they broke up with their ex-girlfriends in their profiles? (You know how they say you shouldn't talk about an ex on the first date? Don't talk about the ex in your online dating profile, either.)

I suppose going on dates with six guys in one year isn't a lot compared to the number of dates that other people go on, but I've been out with several more than six guys since I first started dating. I kind of wish that guys came with labels that are invisible to them but are visible to me. The labels would say stuff like, "He will NEVER call you again", or "He cheated on all of his ex-wives", or "His personality would scare Donald Trump", or "He is a great guy who you will be happy with". If guys came with labels, it would make being single so much easier. (Side note: If girls came with labels, that would make it easier on guys too. My label would hopefully read "likable neurotic" or "If you criticize her work habits, your dinner will end up on your shirt.")

Even though I'm a workaholic, I always thought that dating would be the one thing that didn't feel like work. I don't expect it to be like it is in the movies or even like in one of those online dating commercials. I just thought that dating would give me the chance to feel something real for someone special and to just have fun with that person. But it's been a while since it has felt like anything but work for me.

Some people might tell me just to relax and not take it so seriously. But telling a neurotic workaholic to relax is like telling a fish to stop swimming. On the other hand, the reason that dating has felt like work lately is because it is a lot of work to read through a bunch of profiles, send and receive e-mails, and to go on dates and be interesting without being fake or saying the wrong thing. And frankly, at this point, I'm ready for a vacation.

Any Resemblance to Real People is (Not So) Coincidental

2011-05-05T14:39:00.000-05:00

I like watching crime dramas, especially the ones that are part of the Law and Order franchise. One thing I've noticed about these types of shows in particular are their "ripped from the headlines" storylines. That is, their episodes are often based on people in real life, like the White House gate crashers, the high school girls who made the so-called pregnancy pact, and even Madonna (it was an episode about her adoption of the child from Africa).

I think that these shows are able to get away (for the most part) with portraying real-life situations because of how they change the details. It makes me wonder if fiction writers can get away with doing the same thing. Sometimes writers will admit to basing their characters on real people, but others claim that their characters are completely fictional. I think it'd be harder to create a character who bears no resemblance to anyone you've ever met or heard of.

But on the other hand, what if you were to base one of your characters on someone you actually know? What if that person you know reads your story and doesn't like the way that he or she is portrayed? What if he or she were to sue you? What if he or she were to make a voodoo doll with a picture of you stapled to it and somehow make you write nothing but cliches for the rest of your life? What if that person were to walk up to you in public and slap you in the face with your book before challenging you to a duel?

There are a lot of people I've known who have made me want to write about them. For example, when I was in junior high I was bullied by a group of boys. They called me names, knocked my books out of my hands, threw volleyballs at my face in gym class, and ridiculed me every chance they got.

One day I couldn't take it anymore. I went up to the ringleader of the bullies when the teacher was out of the classroom. Somehow I managed to knock him down, and he didn't get back up for a moment. I've never done anything like that before. I definitely don't advocate school violence, because we all know what could happen. But on that day I was just so hurt and angry that I decided to fight back. I'd like to say that what I did made him and all the rest of those jerks leave me alone. It didn't.

If I were to write about him exactly as I remember him, he'd probably deny it. (Do you ever notice how the mean kids never seem to remember what they did? I think it's because their cruel treatment of other kids doesn't matter to them. But it matters to the kids who were bullied. It matters to me.) If I wanted to write about him without getting in trouble, I suppose there are ways.

I could write a fictional story about his troubled childhood, and I could write about the way that he was bullied by stronger kids; I'd describe the way he took out his anger on other kids rather than fight back against the ones who were mean to him. Or I could characterize him as someone who was so desperate for attention that he decided to single out kids and get laughs at their expense. I could create all these new details about him and make him (almost) unrecognizable.

There are other people I've considered writing about. Once I had a coughing fit during Mass, and a woman sitting behind me was kind enough to give me a cough drop. The second time I coughed during Mass, another woman refused to shake my hand when everyone exchanged the Sign of Peace. She just gave me this look as if to say, "Get thee away from me, HEATHEN!" I thought for a moment that she was going to start flinging gobs of hand sanitizer at me.

If I were to write about her, I could portray her as a germaphobe who spends more money on hand sanitizer than she does on food. Or I could describe her as being cold and unsympathetic, the type of person who would walk around someone who fell down rather than offer that person a helping hand to get back up. I could characterize her as someone who really is nice but often gets in trouble because she reacts before she thinks.

I'm not sure how people would describe me if any of them were to write about me. It's no secret that I'm a workaholic, but people have different views of what it means to be addicted to work. Would they describe me as someone who is so wrapped up in her work that she always disregards her personal relationships? Would they describe my life as empty because I spend most of my time working? (FYI: I don't disregard my personal relationships, but I admit that I sometimes stay in to complete my work rather than go out with my friends. That's not always by choice, though. And even though I do work a lot, I don't consider my life to be empty; it always bothers me when people try to make me feel bad for being a workaholic.) Or would they portray me as someone who finds joy and satisfaction in her work because it gives her a sense of purpose and allows her to help other people?

I don't know. It's one thing if I create a character that's based on myself, because I can control how that character is depicted in the story. I don't like the idea of someone taking details from my life and my personality and putting it into his or her fiction. It almost feels like it'd be plagiarism. I remember seeing something like that happen in the movie The Jane Austen Book Club; one of the characters found out that her girlfriend had written stories about the things that she'd told her in confidence. And as someone who knows what it's like to have her writing plagiarized by other people, I know I'd be even angrier if someone plagiarized my life.

I might even challenge that plagiarist to a duel. (Would throwing water balloons count?)

How would you feel if a writer you knew based one of his or her characters on you? If you base your characters on real people, how do you portray them so that the characters become different people with their own unique personalities?

What I've Learned from Online Dating

2011-05-02T13:48:00.000-05:00

I first decided to try online dating two years ago. I figured that waiting around for the right guy to show up wasn't going to work, and I didn't want to date anyone I worked with. I'd already tried speed dating, and I had participated in activities that my church sponsored, particularly the activities that were for other young people like me. I spent time doing the things that interested me, like visit museums on the free admission days, go to free outdoor concerts in Grant Park, take fiction writing classes, and work out at the gym. But I still couldn't find the right guy. So I thought that online dating would help me find him; at the very least I thought I'd get to meet new people and go on dates.

Four online dating memberships later, I've learned a few things.

1. Play it safe. I originally did not want to join an online dating site. I'd heard about cases where women and men were deceived and manipulated by people they met online, and they ended up being physically attacked or robbed of thousands of dollars. I was afraid that the same things might happen to me.

I'm not blaming the victims. There are some situations where things go beyond people's control, even if they do everything they can to protect themselves. But on the other hand, these situations show us how important it is to play it safe.

My general rule is to exchange at least three or four e-mails with a guy before we exchange phone numbers. Then we talk on the phone a couple times, and then we set up a time and a place to meet in person. I always make arrangements to meet him in a public place where there will be a lot of people around, and I let one of my friends know where I'm going to be, just in case. I also don't let the guy drive/walk me home on the first date. I don't want to end up being another horror story in the news.

If I do end up in the news someday, I want it to be because I did something like make a citizen's arrest of one of those celebrity reporters who think it is necessary to inform the public about every single thing that celebrities do (seriously, do we really need to know when celebrities change their hair color? Are all the details of their personal relationships really our business? Are we going to have to keep reading stories and watching documentaries about Kate and William for the rest of our lives, because if so I might just swear off technology forever and move to the North Pole, which would suck because they probably don't sell M&Ms and soda up there?).

2. "No" does not mean "Yes, please, keep e-mailing me!" When I was on match.com and okcupid, there were several guys who e-mailed me multiple times, including one 40-something divorced guy who wrote that he was "looking for a mother for my three children". When I didn't respond the first time, they would wait a few weeks before e-mailing me again. I'm not sure if they forgot that they had already contacted me, or if they hoped that I had forgotten that they had contacted me. I'm not sure if that's sad or just creepy. Either way, their persistence didn't make me want to date them.

3. Love is priceless, but dating is not. There are free online dating sites like okcupid and plentyoffish, but the other ones that I tried (eharmony, match, and chemistry) all cost money. That was why I often had to wait several months between memberships, because I had to save up enough money to pay for a membership. I read a recent post on the official match.com blog about the cost of dating, and I could relate to a lot of the issues it discussed about how much money people spend.

But even more importantly, I've found that online dating takes up a lot of time. You know how they say that time is money? When you work two jobs and go to graduate school, time is something that you don't want to waste. And I spent a lot of time reading through profiles, sending and receiving e-mails, and going on dates. At the end of the day, I just kept thinking about all the work I could have gotten done instead. It's not just because I'm a workaholic. It's because when you spend all that time searching for someone and end up with nothing but the wrong guys, then you start wishing that you had spent your time on something more productive.

4. Not all dating sites are alike. Based on the profiles that I read on eharmony and chemistry.com, I found that most of the guys were looking for women they could have serious relationships with; several of them would state this in their profiles. Fellow blogger gem wrote an amusing post about how she learned this fact when she tried chemistry.com. Eharmony and chemistry.com matched me with guys that fit my preferences. I tend to be attracted to "the guy next door", the kind of guy who plays sports or goes to games with his friends on the weekends and works hard at his job during the week. I generally like guys who have old school manners, as in they pull my chair out for me at restaurants and open doors for me. In terms of looks, I like the kind of guy who looks like he could pose for a GAP ad, as in very clean-cut and conservative.

On okcupid, on the other hand, you are more likely to find guys who not only would never shop at the GAP, they are very likely to have a) staged a protest against it; b) composed and performed a song with their band about the reasons that GAP and all the people who shop there all work for THE MAN and are therefore EVIL; c) written poetry about how major corporations like the GAP are contributing to the world's inevitable demise; d) written a novel about how the "guy next door" who looked like he could be in a GAP ad stole his girlfriend.

There are clean-cut, conservative guys on okcupid who are looking for relationships. (I know because I dated some of them.) But there are also guys (and girls) on the site who are looking for "casual encounters" and "activity partners". I was also contacted by guys who wrote in their profiles that they were already in relationships but were "looking to meet new people". I don't have anything personal against people who are in open relationships, although I have to admit that I would not be willing to share my partner in that way.

5. Lies and cliches will work against you. I recently received an e-mail from a guy who claimed to be 31. He looked like he was at least 50. I know that some people look older than they actually are, but I don't know a lot of people who look nearly twenty years older.

Here are a few examples of the cliches that I've seen in guys' profiles:

"I'm tired of the bar scene, because it's just not the right place to meet women." - What they could be saying: I'm tired of going to bars, because all the women keep ignoring me, rejecting me, or throwing drinks at me.

"I'm looking for a girl who is physically active and enjoys working out." - What they could be saying: I'm looking for a girl who looks like a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model and who won't mind the fact that I don't go into gyms unless I follow pretty girls in there.

"It's really hard to describe myself in a short profile, so if you want to know anything about me, just ask." - What they could be saying: I couldn't think of something original to say, so I figure that the pictures of my dogs and my car will be enough to attract women.

"I'm looking for a girl who doesn't play games." - What they could be saying: I'm looking for a girl who will actually return my phone calls.

I don't regret joining any of the sites, because I feel like I learned something from all of them. Even if none of the guys I went on dates with turned out to be the right guy, I did learn a lot more about what I want and what I don't want.

I'm not ready to give up searching for true love, at least not yet. But I am starting to wonder if I'll actually meet the right guy online, or at all. I like to believe that there's someone out there for me, but what if there isn't? What if it's not true that every person has a soul mate? What if it's true that only some people get to meet and be with their soul mates, and other people never find them? If there is such a thing as destiny, what if I'm not meant to find Mr. Right? And if that's the case, then what is meant for me instead?

I don't know the answers to any of these questions. I've been exchanging e-mails with a new guy on chemistry.com, and we talked on the phone for more than an hour recently. We talked about the possibility of going on a date next week. I'm not sure what's going to happen. I hope that he won't turn out to be like all the others. But even more I hope that I won't get so fed up with dating that I give up altogether.

It's Not Easy Being Green...with Envy

2011-04-26T23:40:00.001-05:00

Everyone gets jealous. But we're often told that we shouldn't feel envious of what others have or what they can do. We're told not to compare ourselves to others because it'll just make us feel bad. We're told to be happy with what we do have and what we can do.

But I think that jealousy can be a good thing, to a certain extent. You don't have to let it consume you. There are some cases where jealousy can motivate you to do better. There are other cases where it can help you realize that you'll never have what other people have, but that's okay because you can have other things instead.

For example, when I work out at the gym, I sometimes can't help feeling envious of certain girls who exercise there. They're the girls whose shorts are up to here and whose tops are down to there, and all the cute guys are checking them out. Some of the girls who look like they're a size 2 or smaller often have buff boyfriends in tow. One thing I've noticed is that after each set, the boyfriends will meet up with their girlfriends to mop their faces with the towels they're carrying for them, compliment them for lifting those extra five pounds, or possibly so they can look down their girlfriends' tops again.

I, on the other hand, wear gym clothes that keep me covered up, partly because I'm far from a size 2; it's also partly because I tend to dress so conservatively that probably even nuns would tell me to lighten up.

When I first started going to the gym, I wanted to look like those thin girls who I envied not because of their buff boyfriends (okay, I'm totally lying; I was a little envious of them because of that), but because they were thin. I'd seen them drink soda and eat ice cream outside of the gym and they never seemed to gain weight, whereas I could gain five pounds just by looking at a piece of cake.

Most of the other women at the gym look more like me or are bigger, yet I can't help feeling self-conscious about the way I look and comparing myself to the girls with slim figures. But I know that women come in different shapes and sizes, and you don't have to be skinny to be beautiful. I've accepted the fact that I'll never be a size 2, not only because I love junk food too much but also because I'm just not built that way.

But because I felt envious of those girls, I started working out more and more. And then I started enjoying exercise, because it also gave me the chance to listen to music or read a magazine while I worked out. It gave me a break from grading papers and doing research, and I didn't have to feel guilty about taking the time off because I was still doing something productive.

Then I started attending the classes that my gym offered, and I found that it was fun to work out with other people. Every time I went to another class I looked forward to the rush of endorphins I got after the class was over. Exercise became less about comparing myself to the girls who were thinner than me, and it became more about making myself look and feel good. I went from a size 12 to a size 8.

Jealousy affects other aspects of my life. For example, recently there was a big fuss because Snooki from the TV show Jersey Shore was paid more money than Toni Morrison to give a speech at Rutgers University. I will admit that I watch the Jersey Shore because those kids say the stupidest things, like how Snooki said that she refuses to swim in the ocean because it's full of whale sperm. But then I heard that she got paid more money for one day than I earn in a year. Did I wish I had the power to ban her from every bar, club, and tanning salon in the country, and then did I imagine myself pointing and laughing while she wept at the injustice of it all? Hell, yes.

(Side note: When I heard about that story, I didn't wonder why they paid Snooki so much money. I wondered how many of those students at that school have actually watched Jersey Shore and how many of them have read Toni Morrison's books. I read a news article that said that Rutgers wouldn't have invited Snooki if they didn't think that a lot of people would show up to hear her speak. Would I have gone? Yes. But I also would have gone to see Toni Morrison too.)

I have to admit that I feel envious of celebrities like Snooki, not just because they earn all that money but also because it's so easy for them to get novels published. They decide they want to be authors, and then within months their books are out on display at all the bookstores; tons of people show up at their booksignings, and the celebrity authors probably never have to read a single rejection letter.

But on the other hand, I wouldn't want to be like them, because from what I've heard a lot of them don't even write most (if not all) of their books. They hire ghostwriters instead. Nothing against ghostwriters of course, but in my opinion I think that the books belong more to the ghostwriters rather than the celebrity authors; even if the celebrities come up with the concepts of the books, in some sense it's still the ghostwriters' voices that the readers are hearing.

If I ever do get published, I want my books to be mine. I'm not saying that I wouldn't want input from agents and editors. They would know more about the publishing industry than I do, and they would know what would make a book appealing to audiences. But I want to publish a book knowing that it came from my ideas and my imagination. I don't just want to be published for the sake of being able to call myself an author.

So when I hear about celebrity authors like Snooki, it motivates me to keep writing. It makes me think about how maybe I might never draw the same number of readers as they do, but at least I can still work on writing books that are funny, honest and real. And hopefully, all that envy and motivation will help me accomplish my goal someday.

What about you? Who are you jealous of, and how do you deal with that jealousy?

Smartphones Make Me Feel Stupid

2011-04-22T07:49:00.000-05:00

Last week I finally caved in to peer pressure that I get a cell phone that's so fancy it's basically like having my own robotic personal assistant. (If only it could cook meals for me too, that'd be perfect, especially because I can't cook meals without setting fire to a) the food b) my clothes c) anything else that is remotely flammable and happens to be nearby.) I also needed a new phone because I got my phone company to disconnect my local phone service in order to save money.

Since I renewed my contract with my phone company for another two years, they gave me a free cell phone; I think another reason was because I hadn't upgraded my phone in more than five years. I was one of those people who thought she was "above" all the other people who start shrieking and running around madly if they lose their cell phones. That only happens if I lose my iPod. Or if the grocery store runs out of Coke.

My Blackberry Torch 9800 is "refurbished", which is basically a fancy way of saying "used", but my phone company reassured me that it had been thoroughly inspected for any possible deficiencies before it was resold. When the representative told me that, I just kept wondering how many times the previous owner had sneezed on the phone and whether the company had thoroughly inspected it for any possible infections before reselling it.

Normal people who buy new cell phones can simply read the instructions and figure out how to use the various features in a short period of time. Or they choose not to try to figure everything out at once but rather over time as they continue using it. But anyone who reads this blog can tell that I have never been normal. But I don't think that that's necessarily a bad thing. It can be, though, when you end up spending hours trying to figure out how to use a cell phone that makes you feel as if you should be chosen to be a contestant on the TV show Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader, wherein all the ten year olds will laugh at you because you can't even figure out how to send e-mails on your phone, you NEANDERTHAL.

Here's a breakdown of what happened after I activated my cell phone last Saturday and then proceeded to try to figure out how to use it.

4:00 P.M. Gee whiz! A new cell phone! Look how fancy this looks! The screen is just so darn big! It's so much nicer than my old phone! Look at all the things that I can do on this phone! This is just swell and peachy keen! (When I'm happy I sometimes sound like one of those actors in a 1950s beach comedy.)

4:02 P.M. How exactly do I transfer all my old contacts to my new phone? The online directions say I should "tap contacts". But wait, where is the "Contacts" icon? Oh no, I accidentally clicked on Youtube!

4:03 P.M. Cool, my new phone has Youtube! This rocks! Why watch the videos on my laptop when I can watch them on my cell phone? I mean, other than the fact that I signed up for the cheapest data plan that my phone company offered and I'm probably racking up additional fees for every Miley Cyrus and Lady Gaga video I watch?

4:04 P.M. Wait, why does it say "Not available on Mobile"? Awww....

4:06 P.M. Yes, I finally found a video I can watch on my phone! Now I can just sit back and...wait, the video is still buffering.

4:07 P.M. Still buffering.

4:08 P.M. Great! Now the video is playing! This is so cool! Now I can...wait, now it's buffering again.

4:09 P.M. Still buffering...

4:10 P.M. Oh, forget this. I'm just going to try transferring my iTunes to my cell phone. Now I won't have to replace my iPod that I bought more than five years ago and keeps breaking down as if it's saying, "Why don't you just get a new one and let me rest, for Pete's sake?"

4:30 P.M. Yay! Now all my songs and playlists are on my phone and...wait. Why do so many of the songs say "unsupported format"? Why is it I can play songs by Kelly Clarkson but not Colbie Caillat on my phone? (Side note: Yes, I know that my taste in music is basically the soundtrack for a chick flick. You can stop rolling your eyes now.)

5:17 P.M. Dagnabit! Fiddlesticks! Confound it all! Why can't I figure out how to use this thing? (When I get frustrated I start swearing in euphemisms like some cartoon character -pre-South Park era- or perhaps some actor from one of those old black-and-white movies where the characters are all American but they talk as if they have British accents. I am not exaggerating. When I started teaching, I didn't want to swear in front of my classes, so I started using euphemisms, much to the amusement of my students. I occasionally resorted to swearing in euphemisms when I did embarrassing things, like accidentally fling a piece of chalk when I was gesturing with it, only to have the chalk come this close to hitting one of my students in the face.)

6:41 P.M. Maybe I should go to one of those cafes where they have free Wi-Fi. I bet the connection would be much better there and then I could finally watch a video without seeing that gosh darn "buffering" message every two seconds. But then I'd have to actually buy something to get that free Wi-Fi, and I only have eight dollars in cash right now. And I need that money to do laundry tomorrow. I mean, I could wear my jeans for a couple more days but I think that my socks and towels need to be washed at some point.

7:56 P.M. I can't believe I've been trying to figure this out for almost four hours. I should really get back to my other work at some point. Or at least put my cell phone down.

8:03 P.M. I wonder if I should include the numbers of the guys I dated in my list of contacts on this phone. It's not like I talk to them anymore (or want to talk to them, for that matter). If I include them on my list, I might accidentally call them someday and then they'll think that I want them back and I'll say, "NO! My phone called you, not me! I think my phone hates me and it's calling up all the guys I can no longer stand to be in the same room with out of revenge!

8:47 P.M. Why is it that whenever I tap on one of the icons, I end up opening up something else altogether?

9:21 P.M. Hey, someone's calling me! Wait, how do I answer this thing? Hello? Hellooo? Is anyone there?
Caller: (static) Hello?
Me: Maybe if I put it on speakerphone it'll work. Wait, why does it say "Call disconnected" now? Oh no. I think I just hung up on that person.

3:05 A.M. I can't sleep. Maybe that article I read about how staring at the screens of computers and cell phones for too long can give you insomnia really is true.

8:30 A.M. Gosh, my eyes look so red. I hope the people at Mass today don't think I'm some kind of demon in disguise who's out to tempt them with the evils of technology.

Now that I've had my phone for a few days, I more or less understand how to use it now. And I have to admit that I'm pretty impressed with all the things that my cell phone can do, especially because my old one basically enabled me to just send and receive text messages and phone calls.

But am I the only one who sometimes feels confused by all the new electronic devices out there? How did we ever survive without these things? I came of age in the nineties, where for most of the decade the Internet and cell phones were things that (for the most part) only rich people and nerds used, so I do recall a time when we were able to survive without them. How is it that you can't go out on the street these days without seeing at least a dozen people who spend more time checking their cell phones than, say, checking to make sure there aren't any cars before crossing the street? And how is it that I've now become one of those people? (But don't worry, I know I should put my phone away while crossing the street. But then I feel the urge to check my phone again as soon as I'm on the other side.)

Confound it all.

I Remember...Working

2011-04-19T14:02:00.000-05:00

One of my favorite books on writing is Natalie Goldberg's Writing Down the Bones. One of her writing prompts in this book is "I remember".

When I look back on my twenties, one of the things that strikes me the most is how much they were defined by my work experiences. I spent more time working than doing anything else.

1. I remember doing several internships in college. I always wanted to be a professor, but I figured it would be good to get work experience in other fields in case I needed a Plan B. I soon learned that when many people think of the intern, they think, "Ugh, I do NOT want to stuff all these envelopes, clean out the file cabinet, or make dozens of calls. I know! Let's get the intern to do it so that we can all leave early! And let's make sure to look sympathetic when we dump all this work on her, so that she can't tell that on the inside we're laughing gleefully about the fact that we don't have to do any of this crap."

2. I remember working at my desk in the office that I shared with other graduate students on a Friday night. A group of grad students were getting ready to go out to a bar (not one of them invited me to come along), and one of them laughed when she saw me still sitting at my desk. She said, "It's Friday night," not in the robotic yet catchy way that Rebecca Black sang it, but as if it was some kind of social crime to stay in and work on a Friday night.

3. I remember wanting to hurl my books at them and reply with some witty retort, but I couldn't think of anything to say. It's too bad my "inner writer" had apparently taken the day off and couldn't come up with something equally condescending for me to say back to them, something like, "You're right! I mean, it's not like you guys don't burn the midnight oil every other night; the fact that I choose to work on a Friday night automatically means that I'm a loser!"

4. I remember working at the concession stand of a movie theater one summer and observing the way that people would get really emotional over their snacks. For example, one of my coworkers put butter on a bag of popcorn for a customer, only to get yelled at; the customer started screaming, "NO! I said NO BUTTER!" Everyone looked at the customer, not my coworker, with pity, because it's obviously the worst thing in the world if a cashier gets your order wrong.

(The customer is always right...and will never let you forget it. )

5. I remember working in retail and how a nice customer once offered me a tip for being so helpful with his order, but I wasn't allowed to take it because it was against the store's "policy".

6. I remember working in a bookstore and how customers would often ask me for directions to various other places in Chicago. If I didn't know the answer, they would actually hold up the line at the cash register for several minutes because they wanted me to ask my other coworkers for specific directions on what was the best restaurant to go to or how to get to Navy Pier. I resisted the urge to say, "Um, I can't tell you how to get to Navy Pier, but I can direct you to our travel section where there are dozens of tourist guides on Chicago. I can also direct you to some etiquette books on how to not make your cashier totally lose it."

7. I remember how my hands shook the first time I wrote on the chalkboard during my very first class as a teacher.

8. I remember how I burst into tears at least once a week during my first few months as a teacher, just because I felt so overwhelmed. I'd be at home watching TV; a random commercial would come on and all of a sudden the tears would start flowing and wouldn't stop. I don't cry that often anymore, though I do still occasionally wring my hands at certain commercials, particularly the ones featuring "Wives", i.e., Basketball Wives, Mob Wives, Real (Annoying) Housewives, etc.

9. I remember how my high school students showed me poems and rap lyrics that they had written. It was so refreshing to see that they were learning to view writing as a way to express themselves and not just as something that they had to do for school.

10. I remember how I started writing in coffeehouses as a way to take a break from all the other work that I always had to do. Being able to enjoy good food and coffee while writing something that wasn't constructive criticism on students' papers or notes on my graduate research was a relief. My fiction writing became a comforting escape, especially because it was the one thing in my life that didn't feel like work. It soothed me enough to keep me from breaking down in tears in front of my students, hurling books at my classmates, or yelling back at rude customers. As long as I got to keep writing regularly, I had something to look forward to. And that made everything else a little more bearable.

What about you? When you look back over your work experiences, what are the first things that come to mind? What was something that helped you deal with the not-so-good experiences?

One of my favorite fellow bloggers, Richard Boemcke (whose writing always makes me wish that there were guys like him who lived in Chicago) recently released the pilot episode of his Web series, "Twentease", which he also wrote and starred in. I watched the first episode and I'm already intrigued; it's "a show about people not making it in their twenties". Check it out! I think you'll like it too.

Twentease - Pilot Webisode from Richard Boehmcke on Vimeo.

Does This Mean I'm an Adult Now?

2011-04-15T11:23:00.002-05:00

Two weeks ago, on April Fool's Day, I woke up hearing the theme song from Jaws in my head, and for a moment I couldn't figure out why. I've included the audio to it below, just to help you understand how ominous the morning suddenly seemed to me.

I thought, "Self, you don't normally wake up hearing the Jaws theme song in your head, unless you just had that nightmare again about how the Kardashian sisters suddenly decided they wanted to be your best friend and you decided the only natural response was to dive into an ocean full of sharks because that would be less scary. Why oh why do you feel like something bad is about to happen?"

And then I realized that nothing was about to happen. It had already happened before I even woke up.

No. NO! NOOOOOOO!!!!!

Not yet! I'm not ready! I can't go through with it! Why is this happening to me?

It was my thirtieth birthday. This was my reaction:

Okay. So maybe turning thirty isn't as scary as being ambushed by Norman Bates wielding a knife while I'm in the shower. But the terror was real. I am now three decades old.

Those of you who turned thirty years ago are probably rolling your eyes and shaking your heads. You're probably thinking, "Thirty isn't old. Just wait until you're watching a commercial for arthritis medication and you point at one of the actors and say, 'I went to high school with that guy!'"

I know thirty isn't that old. But I did look in the mirror on my birthday, and to my dismay I saw lines in my face that I'd never noticed before. Maybe that was Mother Nature's "gift" to me, as if she was saying, "Happy Birthday to you, CHUMP! You didn't think you'd look young forever, did you? Hahahahaha!"

But the truth is, I started teaching college students when I was in my early twenties, and that was enough to make me prematurely age by at least ten years. The first time I got to sit on the other side of the desk was when I first started feeling like an adult, because it was if I had stepped into this different phase in my life that my students hadn't yet experienced.

I didn't mention my birthday before because I was kind of reluctant to admit that I wasn't twenty-nine anymore. I liked being twenty-nine. I thought that maybe I could just pretend to be twenty-nine for a few more years. But I do actually feel older. For example, maybe if I was fifteen years younger, I'd think guys like Taylor Lautner and Justin Bieber were cute. But all I can think when I look at them is, "They look so young." I also think, "It'd be nice if I could watch either of them without wondering if they ever feel like throwing up after spouting sickeningly sweet lines that make teenage girls swoon and make adult women like me think that real guys never talk like that unless they're chatting up the girl who looks like a supermodel and also happens to be ten years younger than me."

I have to admit that I thought I'd be in a different place by the time I was thirty. When I was twenty, I thought that I'd be married by the time I was thirty. I thought I'd be done with my Ph.D. I thought I'd have a full-time salary, a house, and a car. I thought I'd be living in some college town teaching literature and writing to students who were enthusiastic about learning or at least could get through a full hour of class without discreetly watching videos on their cell phones.

Instead, I'm thirty years old and I'm still single. I've been on a series of awkward/bad/boring/makes me want to ditch him but I don't want to be rude except he doesn't seem to mind being rude seeing as how he's spent the past hour talking about himself without asking me any questions and didn't even offer to pay for my drink but WHATEVER dates that I've become just a tad cynical.

I'm not done with graduate school, mainly because getting a master's degree and a Ph.D. took a lot longer than I thought. It's also a lot more mind-numbing, soul-sucking, makes you want to cry yourself to sleep but you can't sleep now you have seven more chapters of critical theory to read and fifty more papers to grade so suck it up SLACKER than I thought, but that's another story.

I don't have a full-time salary, because I can't work full-time while I'm in graduate school, which is a full-time job in itself. So instead I (barely) get by with part-time jobs that pay me just enough money to buy ramen noodles for dinner.

I don't have a house or live in a college town. I rent an apartment and live in Chicago, a city I love but that also annoys the hell out of me sometimes, or maybe I've just been living here for too long. I don't have a car; I take the bus and the train, where it is not unusual to sit next to someone who will start yelling at you or hitting on you if you look at him or her for a split second (or even if you don't look).

I am teaching literature and writing, and several of my students inspire me because of their enthusiasm for what I'm teaching them. Sometimes they even teach me something new because of how they respond to the material and how they view the world, which is partly why I keep teaching. Several other students, however, send approximately 10,000 text messages a day and update their Facebook pages every five minutes while claiming that they don't have enough time to complete the homework I assign them. But I digress.

I already made my Things to Do Before I Turn 40 list a few months ago. I didn't make a list like that for my thirtieth birthday, though, because when I was twenty I just kept thinking about how in a year I'd finally be old enough to drink alcohol. (But now I still just order soda when I go to bars, because I stopped pretending to like alcohol years ago. Hey! I'm the nerdy but doesn't-succumb-to-peer-pressure-so-that-makes-me-cool kid in one of those Just Say No videos! Go me!)

It's kind of sad to realize that I'll never be in my twenties ever again. There are things that I feel too old to do now. For example, I can't date a twenty year old, because then I would just keep thinking about how he isn't old enough to buy me alcohol, even though I don't even drink alcohol, but still, it'd nice to have that option. I can't be a member of 20 Something Bloggers anymore (that's why I removed the 20sb badge from my blog), which is too bad because it's a really cool online community where I got to participate in interesting discussions and met some really awesome bloggers.

I can't party all night at clubs with other young people without people looking down their noses at me and saying, "Aren't you a little old to be doing that? You have to work in the morning." But then again, even though I did go clubbing when I was in my twenties, I didn't really like it too much because I just kept thinking about how much I would rather be in a quiet coffeehouse or a bookstore than on a crowded dance floor.

One thing I started doing in the last year of my twenties that I still intend to do in my thirties was blogging. I actually started this blog a little over a year ago (so I guess this is my belated one-year blogiversary, whooo! This is my 119th post!) as a twenty-ninth birthday gift to myself. Before I started blogging, I'd never shown my writing to anyone outside of the fiction writing classes I'd taken. But now that I've started blogging, I've stepped into this fascinating world of bloggers that I had never been in before. It also gave me the courage to finally start entering short story contests and submitting stories to literary magazines, which I've always wanted to do but have never done before. Even if it's years before I get published, the fact that I'm finally sharing my writing with people is something.

I suppose it is kind of cool to be in my thirties now. Somehow it sounds more grownup than being in my twenties, though I still have a lot of growing up to do. I guess I should stop thinking that Froot Loops is part of a balanced diet, and I should stop listening to Britney Spears, but...nah. Maybe when I'm forty.

Oh God. In ten years I'm going to be forty.

I think I can hear the Jaws theme song in my head again.

When was the first time that you felt like an adult?

(Side note: Chemistry.com is offering a "freebies" weekend where you can take their personality test and have matches picked for you for free; it lasts until April 18. Just thought I'd send that out in case anyone is interested in checking out the site; out of all the dating sites I've tried, chemistry is actually the one that I like the best.)

Fighting Writer's Block

2011-04-12T13:31:00.001-05:00

I've been feeling blocked lately, both as a blogger and a fiction writer. There are some days where I feel like I have nothing interesting left to say.

Those also happen to be the same days that I find out that someone who is younger, thinner, more attractive, and less neurotic than me just signed a two book deal with a major publishing house; that same person is now going to be earning so much money not just from the book deal but also because of the fact that she just became engaged to some rich person. Now she never has to work a day job again EVER while I have to keep struggling to pay my bills with part-time jobs that make my hair fall out because of stress (this has actually been happening lately) so that I worry about having to buy a wig and having it accidentally fly off my head on a particularly windy day in Chicago and then the wig will fly right into someone's face and then it really will be the worst day EVER.

I once took a fiction writing class where the teacher advised us to carry a notebook with us at all times; he said that we should jot down interesting things that we observed or thought about in our daily routine. That way, we could go through our notes later and see if any of our observations could be used in a story.

So I've been jotting down certain things in my journal that I've been thinking about and observing. Here are a few examples:

1. Quoting from Dr. Seuss does not make you attractive to members of the opposite sex, at least not once you reach adulthood. Neither does plagiarism. I wrote a post recently about the weird things that people write in their online dating profiles. I actually created a document on my computer where I've been cutting and pasting copies of some of the weirdest or most disturbing profiles that I've seen; this file is now several pages long.

One of the matches that chemistry.com sent me did not include any information in the section of the profile where he was supposed to describe himself, except for a brief excerpt from Green Eggs and Ham, and I quote: "I do not like green eggs and ham I do not like them Sam I am." This guy then went on to quote a few other lines from the book. I shouldn't say "quote", because he didn't actually cite the book. Plagiarism is one of my pet peeves (not just when people plagiarize my own writing (and that has happened before, but that's another story) but also when I see evidence of how other people have stolen writing from other people's work. Maybe it's because I'm a writing teacher. Or maybe it just bothers me that a guy like that one can't come up with anything original to say about himself, except maybe that he doesn't like green eggs and ham. Or maybe that the last book he read was by Dr. Seuss.

2. Just because you're drunk at 2 A.M., doesn't mean I have to know about it. I live on a street where my neighbors come home drunk on a regular basis. How do I know that they're drunk? Because I wake up in the middle of the night to hear them yelling stuff like, "Gosh, it's so DARK out! Can you believe it gets THIS DARK at night?" and "I am SO calling in sick tomorrow! YEAH!" and "HOW could you flirt with that girl right in front of me? I would've thrown my beer at you if I wasn't already drinking it, jerkface!"

3. Maybe I should leave it to the experts, or at least read the instructions first. I wrote this down after I unsuccessfully tried to mend one of my shirts that had holes in it. (I'm pretty broke right now so I can't afford to buy new clothes that often.) I don't know how to sew, so I thought I'd look up the directions on how to mend clothes online. I ended up with bloody fingers because I kept jabbing my hands with the needle and then the blood kept getting onto my shirt. Maybe I should have read through all the instructions, rather than follow them as I read them. Now I have a shirt with holes AND spots of blood on it. I guess when I can't wear certain clothes in public, it really is time to buy new ones.

When I reread all the things that I'd written down in my journal, one thing that kept coming up again and again was online dating. Even if I don't succeed in finding Mr. Right, maybe I can succeed in writing about my search for true love. Every time I come home from a less-than-great date or I read yet another profile that makes me want to hurl my computer out the window, I write down more stuff about what I feel and what I've experienced so far. Even though the whole dating process hasn't been making me very happy lately, the thought that I could use my experiences and my observations as material for a good story (or possibly more than one) definitely makes me happy. And then I start writing again.

What kinds of things do you do when you're looking for inspiration?

Cupid Has It in for Me

2011-04-07T15:18:00.000-05:00

I haven't been having much luck with online dating lately. For example, recently I was contacted by a guy on chemistry.com. Here is an excerpt from his profile: I am a virgin and am 18 I wont lie, ladies it is up to you if you want to break that or I am very wiling to wait until I am married so that she knows that I waited for her fully.

I am also becoming more and more irritated every time I see a profile without any pictures; I've stated before that at least a third (if not more) of the matches that have been sent to me don't have any pictures in their profiles. It's not necessarily chemistry.com's fault, because they can't exactly force members to post pictures; I just don't understand why any guy thinks he's going to get a lot of girls (or any girl) to respond to him if he doesn't post any pictures.

I don't get to see any of the women's profiles on chemistry.com, only the ones of the matches who are sent to me by the site. So I don't know if this is an issue with women's profiles. I do know that on eharmony this was an issue too, though.

I think that a guy who doesn't post any pictures is probably refraining from doing so for one of the following reasons: 1) He is self-conscious about how he looks; 2) He doesn't want anyone to find out that he's on an online dating site, which is totally lame because online dating is socially acceptable now; a lot of people do it, so GET OVER YOURSELVES, GUYS; 3) He thinks that he can simply win women over with lines like "Even if you're not at the ideal weight, I can work with you on an exercise plan until you lose enough weight to look good" and "I'm not interested in girls who play games, unless you're buying dinner"; 4) He's an alien from a different planet and the flash from the camera would make him spontaneously combust.

Disappearing acts are something else I've had to deal with. One of the reasons I didn't renew my membership with eharmony was because at least ten or twelve guys disappeared with no explanation after the first or second e-mail. On chemistry.com this has happened at least six times. One guy e-mailed me, and then the next week he blocked off communication with me (similar to eharmony, you can actually see on chemistry.com which guys have decided to reject you).

Last Sunday, three guys e-mailed me, and then I never heard from them again. I know that one of them didn't actually sign up for a membership; he just signed up for the free communication weekend, so the other two might have signed up for free communication too and didn't bother to pay for a regular membership.

There were at least six disappearing acts when I was on okcupid, so in total this has happened to me almost TWENTY-FOUR TIMES! I've reread a few of the e-mails I've sent to these guys, and I don't think I wrote anything that would have scared them off. It's not like I wrote anything like, "I've attached pictures of my top three choices for wedding dresses to this e-mail. Let me know which ones you like best."

One of the worst cases was a guy on okcupid who sent me ten or twelve e-mails, but never agreed to set up a date where we could meet in person. He said stuff like, "I'm sure we'll meet eventually; in the meantime we can just chat online." He didn't seem to get that the whole point of online dating is to find someone you can actually date in real life; most people don't join the sites just to get online pen pals.

Then, after a month of communication, the guy disappeared; I tried sending him one or two e-mails, but he ignored them. I think that he must have stopped communicating because he thought one of the following things: 1) Oh no, I should stop e-mailing her because I forgot to tell her that I'm married, not to mention my wife might find out; 2) Why should I meet her in person when I can stay at home with my action figures for company? 3) It's much easier to deceive women if I never meet them in person; 4) Why should I e-mail a girl who's interested in dating me when I just know that Heidi Klum is going to answer one of my letters any day now? 5) Maybe I should go see the Wizard of Oz and get some courage. Or at the very least he could give me a brain.

I also think that several of the matches that I've been sent on chemistry.com are no longer active on the site. On chemistry.com, it'll indicate whether the person was active in the last 24 hours, but it won't give any information beyond that. So you don't know if the person was active last week or three months ago.

So I haven't been dating. I'm starting to think that I either just have bad luck or Cupid is exacting revenge on me, maybe because I laughed about the fact that he never wears any clothes (except for the diaper).

I'm ON to you, MISTER!

When to Speak Up

2011-04-04T14:12:00.000-05:00

There are times when I wonder when I should speak up, and when I should stay silent. In Chicago in particular, it's not typically a good idea to confront people you don't know, because you never know what they're capable of. I've witnessed fights in the street, the laundry room, restaurants, etc., and it never ends well.

A few days ago, I was in a coffeehouse that I don't go to very often. I don't go there very often because there is a group of obnoxious people who go there every day and stay for hours. They act as if they own the place; they talk loudly and have no consideration for people like me who just want to enjoy their coffee in peace. I don't expect cafes to be quiet, but I do think that people shouldn't talk loudly enough for the whole place to hear them.

That day, however, I heard them talking about a story that has gotten a lot of attention in the news lately. Two police officers are in trouble because a woman accused one of them of assaulting her. I heard one of the men in that group of disruptive customers say, "She probably enjoyed every minute of it." I didn't hear any of the other people in that group contradict him.

What he said filled me with rage. I wanted to flip over their table and throw my coffee in their faces. I wanted to scream at them at the top of my lungs. I wanted to tell that "man" that he had no right to say that. I wanted to tell him that he was offensive, insensitive, and heartless, and I wanted to grab his collar and throw him out of the cafe with all the strength that I had.

But I didn't. I turned around and glared at them, and one of them stared right back at me. But I didn't say anything. I wish that I had spoken up.

I am not trying to badmouth those police officers who are in trouble. (On the other hand, if they are guilty of that crime, then they should be prosecuted and convicted for it.) Let me just say that I respect the Chicago Police Department; whenever I see them patrolling the streets and the subway stations, I feel safe. The police officer's job is one of the most difficult jobs anyone could have, and the police force as a whole do not get as much recognition as they deserve. But I also have sympathy for that woman.

Once I was walking around in the South Loop and I noticed a man following me. I stopped in front of a Starbucks, hoping that he would pass me by. But he came right up to me, grabbed my arm, and tried to drag me off with him. I started screaming and broke away from him, and he just wandered off. It was the middle of the day, with dozens of people around. Not one of them stopped to ask me if I was okay, as I stood there, shaking. I think that a lot of them didn't even notice.

There have been other men who followed me on the street, and there was one man who leaned in and tried to kiss me before I ran away from him. There have been men who have reached out to stroke my arm or my hair on the train. There have been men who make every kind of explicit comment to me that you could think of, and who yell insults at me when I ignore them. There was one man who took his pants off and exposed himself to me on a mostly empty train, right before I ran off the train. I'm afraid to go out by myself at night, because it's not always safe. I have never enjoyed any of that despicable harassment from any of those disgusting "men". But I have never been assaulted.

Even though I haven't been, I still think that that man in the coffeehouse was WRONG to say what he said. I know that freedom of speech is one of Americans' most valued rights, and I can understand why this right is important. But that doesn't mean that what that man said was okay. It was far from okay.

I spoke to the manager of the cafe. He said that if they were ever offensive to me personally, then he would speak to them. He said he couldn't control what they said, but he did say that he would ask them to keep it down next time. But I still feel anger towards those obnoxious customers.

Normally I try to be funny and ironic in my posts. But this is one case where I don't think anything is funny about the situation.

Dear Mr. Wrong

2011-03-29T13:57:00.001-05:00

Dear Mr. Wrong,
You wrote that your dream girl was a certain A-list movie star or at the very least someone who looked like her. I think that I could look like her, if I had a personal trainer, a chef, and a team of makeup artists and stylists, as well as a photographer to airbrush all flaws from my pictures. I have to say that you don't resemble any movie stars, though. Therefore, alas, it will never work between us.

Dear Mr. Wrong,
In your profile you wrote about one of your dates; you made fun of her because she didn't know where your home state was. I suppose it is important to study maps before going on dates, because you never know when geography will be a deal breaker.

Dear Mr. Wrong,
I guess I can understand why you wrote in your profile that you wouldn't date anyone who weighed more than 125 pounds. After all, it's not like you can tell from a woman's pictures whether she is thin or not. Oh, wait a minute...YES YOU CAN!

Dear Mr. Wrong,
I think it's nice that you described yourself as "entilligent" and that you like to "reed" in your spare time. Tell me, have you ever read a dictionary?

Dear Mr. Wrong,
I noticed in the headline for your profile you wrote that you were "looking for a few good hotties". Does that mean that you aren't willing to settle for just one hottie? Although I don't expect exclusivity right away, I don't think I'd be willing to be one of many girlfriends, even though the girls in your photos look really happy to be sitting in your lap.

Dear Mr. Wrong,
I couldn't help noticing that you used the words "sex" and "virgin" more than once in your profile. I'm guessing that a relationship is not the number one thing that you're looking for?

One of the blogs I follow, Cruel Smooches, included some funny posts about the e-mails that the blogger was getting on match.com and her responses to those e-mails. It gave me the idea for this post and the e-mails that I write to potential matches.

On chemistry.com, there are three different ways to contact someone: send a "chemistry starter", which is something like a fill-in-the-blank game; send an e-mail; click on the "I'm interested" link. Almost all of the guys who have contacted me first have just clicked on the "I'm interested" link rather than send a note. I can understand how difficult it can be to send that first e-mail, because you're not quite sure what to say to introduce yourself in a way that will make yourself attractive to your potential match. However, it is slightly annoying that the guys can't or won't actually send a note rather than just click on "I'm interested", because then it's like they're transferring the task of sending the first e-mail to me.

When I contact a guy for the first time, I always write a note. I usually respond to certain things that the guy wrote in his profile, like what he likes to do in his free time or which neighborhood in Chicago that he lives in. I ask him questions and I say a little bit about myself.

Obviously, I don't write e-mails like the ones above to any of my potential matches. But sometimes, I wish that I could, just so they'll see that they should put more thought into writing their profiles. I've seen profiles where the pictures of the guys looked good, but what they wrote in their profiles was either a) insulting to women; b) creepy, in the "I think that being in a Freddy Krueger movie would be less frightening than going on a date with you" kind of way; c) uninformative, as in there was hardly anything written in their profiles and made me think that they were either too lazy or unimaginative to write anything or were only on the site for one thing (wink, wink). Because of those things, I decided not to contact them or respond to them.

Of course, not all the profiles on chemistry.com are less than appealing. The guys that I've contacted and responded to are the ones who wrote interesting things in their profiles. Although writing an online dating profile obviously isn't the same thing as writing a short story or a novel, I think it is important to keep your audience in mind. If your profile is full of cliches, misspelled words, or offensive statements, you're going to turn your audience off and make them stop reading.

Recently, I've gotten some e-mails from a few guys who seem okay, although one guy wanted me to give him my contact information right away because he had only signed up for the "free communication weekend" and apparently he didn't want to pay for a regular membership. Gee. Stuff like that makes me feel as if I've finally found "the one".

If you were to write an "introductory" e-mail to someone on an online dating site, what kinds of things would you write?

Little White Lies

2011-03-24T15:03:00.000-05:00

Recently a blogger started a discussion on 20-Something Bloggers about how honest we should be on our blogs. I can't remember the specifics of the discussion, but I think the blogger asked if it would matter if some of the stuff on our blogs wasn't 100% true. That made me think of people who write memoirs, particularly the ones like James Frey who have taken "creative liberties" with nonfiction.

When I read a blog I simply assume that whatever is on there is true. What is on my blog is actually what happened. I started a blog because I had never really shared my writing with anyone before, and I thought that this would be a good start. I didn't want to reveal the complete truth about my life, such as my real name, which neighborhood I live in, and what school I go to or where I've taught. Nothing against anyone who isn't anonymous online, of course, because I figure it's your prerogative to reveal who you are or not to. And for now, I've just chosen not to.

What matters to me is the story and whether or not it entertains me and inspires me. It doesn't necessarily have to be what really happened. But on the other hand, I have to admit that it would bother me a little if a nonfiction writer specifically made a false claim about something being true. I can understand why people would be upset with authors like James Frey who misled their audience. But I guess it depends on the reader and what you want or expect from a book or a blog.

If I was going to lie on my blog, I'd probably write the following things:

1. I never thought about filling a big bucket of ice cold water and dumping it on the heads of the people who smoke outside my window every night (I live right above the front door), even though their cigarette smoke fills my apartment every time I open my window. (I have to open my window, even in the winter, because it's incredibly stuffy in my apartment and it feels like it's eighty degrees even when the heat's turned off.)

2. I don't even really need an online dating membership; I just signed up for fun. In fact, whenever I go out, all I have to do is flip my hair over one shoulder and the guys all start arm-wrestling to see who can buy me a drink. (In reality, when I flip my hair, it's more than likely that my hair is going to get caught in my watch and I'll start trying to yank my wrist away from my hair, shrieking, "Ow! I can't get it out! I think I'm stuck!")

3. It doesn't bother me at all when I'm woken up in the middle of the night because somebody is leaning on their car horn or some drunk people outside have decided that it's much more fun to start singing in the street than have some consideration for the people who are trying to sleep. (What, did I get trapped in a Broadway musical or something?) In fact, I'd open my window and call out to them, "It's 3 A.M.! You should totally sing louder! I just love it when your voices crack on the high notes! Encore!"

4. When a guy suggests that we go out for "drinks and appetizers," I never feel tempted to say, 'Maybe you can be satisfied with just an appetizer, but I'm going to have an actual dinner that I'll pay for myself, okay? And FYI? I'm going to eat every bite of it without sharing it with you, so PBBBPPTTHHH!"

5. When a guy I meet online pulls a disappearing act on me after sending me a few e-mails, I never have the urge to e-mail him an award that says, "Tool of the Year". And it's not like I would ever want to e-mail that same award along with all of his information to every female I know.

6. When there's a person in front of me in line in the grocery store who's buying fruit, vegetables, nonfat yogurt, and fish, I never feel guilty that I'm buying Froot Loops and chocolate.

7. I write every day and I never procrastinate by watching crime dramas or Youtube videos of The Office bloopers. I also never procrastinate by thinking of all the things I would do if I ruled the world. (#1: My slogan as World Leader would be, "Workaholics of the world, unite!")

What do you think? Would you still be willing to read blogs or memoirs that aren't 100% true? If you were going to write "little white lies" on your blog, what kinds of things would you write?

7 Facts About Me

2011-03-21T11:05:00.000-05:00

I mentioned in a recent post that the amazing Alice X gave me this award:

What I didn't mention was that I am supposed to include seven facts about myself; I held off on doing that so that I could describe my online dating (mis)adventures. But here are seven facts about myself and my life in Chicago.

1. I gave up M&Ms for Lent just because I love them so much. (Also, if I gave up caffeine I just might turn into Godzilla and start stomping around the city while growling menacingly and throwing things.) That might explain why I keep having dreams about the talking M&Ms from the commercial. In the dreams they are laughing and mocking me because I can't eat them, and there are a bunch of other people in the dream; they too are laughing and mocking me while they eat candy. That might also explain why I sometimes wake up by weeping into my pillow.

Forty days never seemed so long...

2. The grad students at my school sometimes like to go to neighborhood bars to hang out and socialize. I dislike going to bars because I don't drink alcohol and also because I think that most bars are adult versions of recess in grade school. (The main difference is that at bars people are drinking from beer bottles instead of from juice boxes or milk cartons.) Everyone is standing or sitting around in groups and pairs, gossiping about each other while not-so-discreetly checking out other people and hoping that other people are checking them out. Instead of showing off for the girls by playing football in front of them the way the boys did in grade school, the men show off in front of the women by yelling authoritatively at the game on TV. And just like at grade school recess, I'm on the sidelines, talking with different groups of people while pretending to feel like it doesn't bother me that I don't belong to any of the cliques.

3. When I show a movie in class, I tell my students about how it relates to the themes that we're studying. But a part of me is just relieved that I don't have to give a lecture that day. I also can't even watch most of the movie, since I have to keep telling students to wake up or to turn off their cell phones.

4. When I have to sit through another lecture that I either only understand 2% of or that has nothing to do with my graduate research, I want to jump up in front of the other grad students and professors and yell, "Why does this even matter?" Then I want to run off and watch an episode of Jersey Shore, because watching it doesn't make me feel like I'm the most clueless person in the room. But I don't, because I know that would really bug me if my own students were to do that.

5. Whenever it's a really windy day in Chicago, so that I feel like I'm going to get knocked over if I just stand still for a minute, I find myself muttering with determination, "Must...make...it...through! Must...get...to...Starbucks!"

6. When I'm using one of the Nautilus machines at the gym and one of the personal trainers is nearby, I'll add more weight to whatever I'm lifting and do another set so the trainer won't think I'm lazy. I also think of how I first learned to bench press in high school, when the gym teacher leaned over me and said, "Is that all you can lift? You're WEAK!" And of course all the other girls could lift more than me. Show-offs.

7. I think I'm one of the few Chicagoans who actually likes winter more than summer. I don't like the freezing temperatures, icy roads, or slushy sidewalks. I like that there are less people outside, which makes it far less likely that I'm going to get all impatient and yell, "GET OUT OF THE WAY!" (I don't really do that. Well. I haven't done that in a couple weeks, at least.)

According to Alice X, the rules for this award are that you not only list seven facts about yourself but that you also pass it on to other bloggers. So I'd like to give this award to these amazing bloggers (and check out their blogs!):

lalalalauren at lauren vs. reality
Theresa Milstein at Substitute Teacher's Saga
FreeFlying at Tickets for Two
Anna at Anna Saikin
The Unprofessional Critic

Have a great Monday everyone! And does it say something about me that when I tried to type "Monday", I ended up typing "M&Ms" instead?

The Way You Make Me Neurotic

2011-03-17T14:05:00.001-05:00

Last weekend I went on a date with chemistry bachelor #3. We went out for dinner, but it was difficult for us to have a conversation because it was the weekend before St. Patrick's Day. Therefore, apparently every bar and restaurant in Chicago was full of drunk people wearing green. Also, bar owners everywhere apparently thought that drunk people in green clothes like loud music a LOT because the music was blaring; everyone had to yell to make themselves heard.

Here is a little bit of what our conversation was like:

CB #3: So, have you ever been here before?
Me: What?
CB #3: I SAID, HAVE YOU EVER BEEN HERE BEFORE?
Me: WHAT?
At that moment, a drunk guy at a table nearby jumped up and started dancing while waving a glass of beer around.
Drunk Guy: WHOOOO!!! I LOVE St. Paddy's Day! Everybody DRINK!
Drunk Guy's friend: Keep dancing! I want to get a video of you so I can put it on Youtube, hahaha!
Drunk Guy: WHOOO, YOUTUBE! Everybody DRINK!

After yelling over the music for a while, we went to a coffeehouse, where, despite the large amounts of caffeine everyone was drinking, the atmosphere was much more tranquil. Unless you count all the people running back and forth in front of the cafe who were screaming for no reason and spilling beer on the sidewalk. (Gotta love Chicago.)

What made this guy different from the last several guys I've gone out with was that I actually liked him. Those feelings that just weren't there when I dated chemistry bachelor #2 all came rushing back when I was with this guy. How did I know I liked him? I mentioned in last week's post that when I'm around a guy I like, I become overly self-conscious. With this guy, I was way too aware of how I thought he must have seen me; because of that I became Super Klutz. (Neurotic Workaholic is my not-so-mild-mannered alter ego; Super Klutz is the superhero I become when I go around trying to save people but end up knocking things over and falling down instead.)

I normally carry Band-Aids with me just because I trip and fall that often, but when I'm around a guy I like it's even worse. I didn't fall down during the date, but I did accidentally knock over my drink. I also made the mistake of talking with my mouth full at one point, so that a piece of bread fell out of my mouth and onto the table in front of him. I was so embarrassed I wanted to distract him by pointing to Drunk Guy, who was now acting like he was going to take off his shirt and do a striptease in front of his cheering friends, and then I wanted to run out of the restaurant and never eat bread again.

The problem was, chemistry bachelor #3 didn't feel the same way about me. I couldn't help noticing that at one point during the evening he spent more time looking around the room than he did at me, as if he was looking for the nearest exit or at least for a less neurotic girl with nicer legs whom he could finish the date with. I sent him a message to say hi the next day, but he didn't answer. And that, in itself, was an answer.

Even though it's too bad that we didn't make a connection, a part of me was still glad that I went on a date with him because for just a little while I got to feel those emotions that I hadn't felt in a long time. Before that night I'd started to think that I'd become some kind of robot who was incapable of feeling anything, the kind you'd see in a science fiction movie who looks and talks like a regular girl, right before she malfunctions and turns into Evil Robot Chick with scary red eyes and then starts attacking everyone.

I have to admit that I briefly had a "woe is me" pity party when he didn't call. I started thinking that maybe I really am the problem. I wondered if there was something about me that repels every guy I'm interested in, yet somehow attracts every guy I would never be interested in.

I thought about how maybe there's a reason that I'm a workaholic. Maybe I'm not meant to become anybody's "one true love" someday. I thought that maybe I should just forget about dating and focus on making my other dreams of becoming a published writer and a respected college professor come true instead. That's not to say that being a workaholic means that you'll be single forever, because of course there are plenty of people who are addicted to work and still manage to have successful relationships. But maybe the fact that my work has always been more important to me than any guy I've ever met means that I'm just not the marrying kind, or even the dating kind.

But I stopped feeling sorry for myself long enough to realize that I haven't given up hope of finding the right guy, at least not yet. "The one" for me will be someone with whom I can be my true neurotic self without making me feel self-conscious about it and who will love me in spite of (or because of) that. I also think "the one" will be someone I'd be willing to take a day off from work for, just so I could spend some time with him.

But I wouldn't take too many days off, of course. Maybe it could just be an occasional afternoon off instead of an entire workday. What can I say? I am and always will be a workaholic.

Check out Daniel Powter's video for his song that came out a few years ago; it's called "Bad Day". I like watching it after a bad day (or a bad date), not only because the song is good but also because of the video's hopeful ending. In a way, watching the video motivates me to keep hoping that something good really will happen for me.

What kinds of things do you do to motivate yourself to keep hoping for what you want?

Does This Outfit Make Me Look Single?

2011-03-14T13:09:00.001-05:00

Recently, I read an article on match.com's blog called "Your Perfect Date Night Color: What to Wear". According to match.com, it's not only what you wear that's significant; the color(s) of your clothes matters too. That makes me think that if I wear the wrong color, my date might think, "Oh, that color totally makes her look like she's the kind of girl who will always love her cats more than me. I'm out of here."

According to the article, "White symbolizes purity (the traditional bridal dress), spirituality, and silence." The article also says, " If you love to wear some white, you are probably seen as clean and orderly, but you may want to work on breaking the silence a bit as well." I suppose it would be good if the guy saw me as "clean", because I wouldn't want him to think that I'm the kind of girl who doesn't believe in showers. (FYI: I shower every day, thank you very much.) I'm not sure if I really want him to think of me as "orderly" though, because then he might not think of me as the woman who could possibly be the mother of his future children but the woman who could reorganize his apartment for him.

Also, if I show up wearing a white dress, I'm not sure I want him to immediately think I'm practicing for when I put on my wedding dress. On the other hand, I suppose he's less likely to think that as long as I leave the veil at home.

The article also says, "Though they say black is the most flattering color on all, there’s no denying the sense of mystery and allure you portray." Great! I've always wanted to be seen as alluring, but that's not why I have so many black clothes. I usually wear black (not just on dates, but every day) because that way if I spill coffee or food on my clothes the stains will be less noticeable. I guess that could be construed as being "mysterious", because then my date could think, "Hmm, I wonder what food stain that is on her sleeve? Could it be macaroni and cheese? Or Cheetos? That is a mystery. I should ask her out again just so I can find out."

"Blue is a color of simplicity, truth, and intellect. Regardless of the shade, this color says 'I like to be understood' to your date." I don't typically wear blue on dates, unless you count blue jeans. But is it a total fashion faux pax to wear jeans on the first date, especially if you're just going out for coffee or drinks to a casual bar? Besides, if I do wear jeans, I wear the one pair I own that doesn't have holes in them, and that says something, right? (What? I'm a broke grad student. I can barely afford to replace the clothes that have holes in them; you think I have the cash to to buy new outfits every time I go out?)

I do want "to be understood" by my date, though. I want it to be understood that if he makes fun of me for not making as much as money as he does just because I am in grad school and work multiple part-time jobs, I'm out of there. But not before I throw my drink at him.

What do you think? Do you think that the colors that a person wears reveals something about his or her personality?

For my date with chemistry bachelor #3, I wore dark colors. Did they have any effect on him? I'll let you know in my next blog post.

Making Conversation

2011-03-10T12:09:00.002-06:00

One of my fabulous fellow bloggers, Talli Roland, has a new book out called The Hating Game. The Kindle edition is available on Amazon.com, and the paperback version is available on Amazon.co.uk. In the meantime, you can also buy the paperback at bookdepository.com, which offers free shipping to orders in the U.S. Check out her book and stop by her blog, too!

Another one of my fabulous fellow bloggers, Alice X, who writes the blog Guys, Boys, and Men, was nice enough to give me this award. Thank you, Alice X! I love awards. Check out her blog, too! Like Talli's blog, Alice X's blog is a lot of fun to read.

I'm supposed to list seven facts, but I'm going to hold off on that for later so I can update you on what's been happening in my dating life. Last weekend I went on my third date with chemistry bachelor #2.

Unlike a few of the other guys I've gone out with, when I first met him I didn't immediately think, "Is karma out to get me or am I just a freak magnet?"

This guy is nice, attractive, and he is easy to talk to. Unlike with chemistry bachelor #1, there were never any awkward pauses in our conversations, because we always had something to talk about. But nevertheless, as you know, I felt ambivalent about this guy, because I wasn't sure if I felt any sparks with him. Some of you who left comments on my earlier posts said that sometimes it can take a while for real feelings to develop, and I think that's true. I do agree that some of the best relationships can start from friendships. Other times you can think you don't feel anything romantic for someone, and then eventually you realize that you feel more for that person than you ever thought you could.

So even though I kind of rejected him after he asked me out for a third date, I eventually decided to give him another chance and I asked him out a few days later. Fortunately, he gave me another chance too, and we went out for dinner and a movie this past weekend.

As we sat together in the movie theater, I couldn't help feeling like I was watching the movie by myself, and he just happened to be sitting next to me. And it wasn't like he ignored me. We talked before the movie started, and we whispered to each other a few times during the show and shared popcorn and soda. But I still couldn't get myself to feel anything romantic for him.

In the past, whenever I've been around a guy I have a crush on, I feel overly self-conscious (even more so than usual) around him. It's even worse if we're eating together. Then I keep worrying that I have food in my teeth so that I'll keep discreetly checking my reflection in my knife when he isn't looking. Then I worry that he'll see me staring at my reflection in my knife and say, "The food isn't in your teeth; it's on your blouse." I'll find myself touching my hair a lot, as if I'm afraid it's going to frizz out on me and his eyes will widen and he'll say, "Umm...did you accidentally get struck by lightning or something when I was in the bathroom?"

But I didn't feel like that around this guy. I felt comfortable around him, but not in a "he makes me feel like I can just be myself around him" kind of way. I just didn't feel like I had to impress him, or even like I wanted to. During the date, as on the previous two times we went out, it felt like we were just making conversation.

After our first two dates, he texted me less than a couple hours after we said goodbye. But now it's several days after our third date and I haven't heard from him. And I don't plan on calling him either.

At first I thought that maybe I could keep dating him for a little longer, just to see if I was wrong and if maybe something good could happen. But on my way home that night, I passed a guy and a girl who looked like they were about my age; they were waiting for a bus. They weren't making out or anything, but the girl was leaning against her boyfriend, and his arms were wrapped around her. They didn't say anything. They just looked content. I wondered for a moment if chemistry bachelor #2 and I could ever have that kind of closeness someday down the road. I wondered if I really wanted us to have that closeness. The answer to both questions was no.

I also wondered if couples in love like the one I saw somehow manage to sense it whenever an unattached person is coming near. Maybe they have some kind of sixth sense that makes them stop arguing over whose turn it is to take out the trash long enough to look like they've already got their happy ending and never feel lonely EVER. I imagined couples everywhere saying, "Look, there's another one! Quick, strike a pose!" And then they all suddenly appear, fall into each other's arms and look happy and in love as the single people like me walk by, and then they go back to arguing after the single people go away.

Do I sound bitter, cynical, and slightly paranoid? Sorry. Now I know why the ladies on Sex and the City (a show that I love) were often so pessimistic about men. But at least they had their great clothes and cute shoes to make themselves feel better.

Crap. Now I just sound superficial.

Anyway, like I said before, I do agree that it can take a while for romantic feelings to develop. But those feelings are part of what make dating worthwhile and fun, because otherwise you really are just making conversation. (Or at least that's how it is for me.) I think that going on dates like this one makes me realize that I want to meet a guy that doesn't make me keep asking myself if I feel anything real for him.

I've got a date with chemistry bachelor #3 this weekend. This guy is actually the same guy I mentioned in my last post, the 30-something guy who said last week that he wanted to go out, but then he didn't call until after I'd already given up on hearing from him. But I'll try to reserve any more judgment on him, at least until after we meet in person.

Here's hoping the third guy's the charm, you know? (But technically he's not the third guy I've ever dated. I'm not going to say how many guys I've gone out with since I first started dating years ago, because the number is just getting depressing at this point. But he is the third guy I met on this site that I've made plans to go out with, so there.)

I'm Getting Too Old for This

2011-03-07T13:52:00.000-06:00

At least, according to many of the guys on chemistry.com I am.

On chemistry.com, in addition to writing a few paragraphs to describe yourself in your profile, there's also a section that lists the basic facts of who you are and what you're looking for in your "ideal match". For example, in my profile, I wrote down that I don't smoke at all and that my ideal match would also be a nonsmoker. Unfortunately, I can't write down other things that are deal breakers for me; for example, I can't put down that I'd rather not date a guy who will say, "I'll call you," when what he really means is "I never want to see you again. In fact, if we do happen to cross paths again someday, I will grab whoever is nearest me and use them as a human shield in case you try to come near me."

You can also write down the age range that your ideal match would fall into. In my profile, I put down that my match would be somewhere between the ages of 25 and 35, though now that I'm turning 30 soon I'm thinking of raising the age range so that it'll be between the ages of 27 and 37 (you might wonder why I'm willing to date a guy in his mid-to-late thirties but not someone who's in his early twenties, but one reason is that the guys in their early twenties also generally prefer younger women). It just so happens that I prefer to date guys who are close to my age; the oldest guy I ever dated was seven years older than me, and the youngest guy I dated was four years younger than me.

Some people say that age is just a number. But I don't really buy that, because at 29 I am not the same person that I was at 19. For example, now that I'm 29 I'm not willing to spend an hour on the phone just so I can try to get tickets to see a boy band's concert (I never got to see N'Sync perform live, and now I never will! Why do these things always happen to ME?).

Of course, there are people who have really good romantic relationships with partners who are significantly older or younger. Sometimes age just really doesn't matter if you're in love. Everyone has the right to make their own choices about that kind of thing, and we all have our own preferences anyway. And I do firmly believe that you don't get to choose who you fall in love with; it just happens. So maybe I will end up falling for someone who is a lot older or younger. But on the other hand, I am still actively looking for someone who's close to my own age.

I think that part of it has to do with the fact that I'm usually likely to have more in common with guys my own age. Emphasis on "usually", because sometimes guys my own age are more immature than kids in grade school. (And I will admit that I am often immature too, seeing as how I will throw a fit if someone tries to steal the prize in my cereal box away from me.)

The problem is that many (though not all) of the guys on chemistry.com who are my age make it clear that they want to date younger women. One 35-year-old guy wrote down that his ideal match would be between the ages of 18-24. I mean, really? Really? When I was 18 I thought that anyone over the age of 22 was old, so I never would have considered dating a 35-year-old.

Other guys will go a little higher; that is, if the guy is 30 he'll put down that he wants to date someone who's between the ages of 21-28. It makes me think of the bachelors on the reality show Millionaire Matchmaker. The majority of them want to date younger women. One guy who was 48 told Patti Stanger, the matchmaker, that he didn't want to date anyone over the age of 29. Another guy who was in his late 30s refused to go on a second date with a gorgeous, perfectly nice woman just because she was in her early 30s. Again I must ask, Really?

The guys on that show rationalize their preferences by saying that they want to have kids someday, so they think it'll be easier to do that if they date someone younger. But I think it's less about the desire of starting a family and more about the desire to look like a stud who can still get a beautiful young woman. I mean, just look at Hugh Hefner, who's like, what, 100? And his "girlfriends" are young enough to be his granddaughters, and now he's engaged to one of them!

Don't get me wrong. Women do it too. But it does still seem like women get a lot more flack for dating younger men than men do for dating younger women, which is totally unfair. And there are definitely guys on the site who don't restrict themselves to dating younger women, so I'm not saying that all men are like the ones I described. And again, I'm not trying to condemn anyone whose partner is significantly older/younger, or who does prefer to date someone who isn't his or her age. Like I said before, that's your choice, and if it works for you, why not?

But for me, it does get to be a little disheartening to know that a lot of the guys that are out there wouldn't even consider me because of my "advanced age". And the thing is, this ageist thing isn't exclusive to chemistry.com. When I was on match.com and okcupid a lot of the guys who contacted me were in their late 40s and 50s (I didn't date any of them, though). Maybe I'm feeling overly self-conscious because my thirtieth birthday is rapidly approaching and I'll never be in my twenties again.

Maybe it's because there was this 35-year-old guy who'd been sending me e-mails last week on chemistry.com; in his most recent e-mail, he suggested that we go out this past weekend. I e-mailed him my phone number so that he could call me and we could make definite plans, but then he never called. I couldn't help wondering if he just flaked out about meeting in person and pulled a disappearing act (which has happened with several other guys I met online), or if he's holding out for someone younger. Not to mention the cutoff age for his ideal match in his profile is 29. (I did, however, go out on a third date with chemistry bachelor #2 this past weekend, but that's for another post.)

Or maybe I just want to track down those guys who prefer younger women and ask them exactly how many younger women they've succeeded in dating. I'm willing to bet that the number isn't nearly as high as they'd like it to be.

What's your opinion on dating someone who's a lot older or younger?

Do Not Disturb...or I Will GET You

2011-03-03T12:29:00.001-06:00

Recently, the brilliant Theresa Milstein, who writes the blog Substitute Teacher's Saga, wrote a post about the role that writing plays in her life and how sometimes life gets in the way of her writing. And yet she still manages to get a lot of writing done, so that I envy her. I think a lot of people could relate to that post in particular, especially me.

As a teacher and as a graduate student, I do a lot of my work at home. In addition to teaching classes, holding office hours, and attending lectures, workshops and department meetings, I also have to spend a lot of time grading papers, making lesson plans, doing research, and working on my dissertation. I also work for a website that allows me to complete my projects from my own laptop. Not to mention I also have to make time for my fiction writing, but I actually prefer to do that at coffeehouses because the coffee and chocolate somehow make me feel creative. Or maybe it just makes me hyper and that makes me think I'm being creative...

I don't like working in the library for too long, because apparently it's no longer considered a quiet place to work, at least not according to a lot of the students who go there. To a lot of them, the library is the place where you go to talk with your friends at the top of your voice and ignore the people who glare at you until it feels like their eyeballs are going to fall out. Or it's the place where you do anything BUT study and hog the computers so you can update your Facebook pages or play computer games or watch Youtube videos for hours because it's not like anyone else needs those computers to do RESEARCH....but I digress.

I do have my own workspace at the schools where I teach, but I typically have to share an office with several other people. At one school where I used to teach, I didn't even get my own desk because there were so many more instructors than desks available; we had to sign up to use the desks for a couple hours at a time. And it's hard to work in shared offices, because sometimes the other instructors are just as loud as the students; if they're not meeting with students to discuss assignments, they'll talk about their teaching, what happened on last night's episode of American Idol, where they're going to go to eat, etc., until I want to stand up on my desk and yell, "Would you please keep it down!" But I don't, because one of my students might walk in at that moment and then they might tweet about it or something and then I'll be known as the teacher who throws tantrums and pulls her hair out in front of her colleagues.

So I generally prefer to work at home, even though my neighbors don't make it any easier for me to work either. But at least I don't have to be in the same room with them, because then I just might attack them for leaving their garbage bags in the elevator or getting drunk outside my apartment window at two A.M. again. (You might say that I have anger issues. I would reply that everyone ELSE has issues, and that's why I get angry.)

A lot of people think it's great to work at home, because then they can work in their pajamas and set their own schedule. But I don't like to work in my pajamas, because what if there's a fire and I have to run out in the street in my pajamas and then everyone will laugh and say, "Why are you wearing such a long nightgown with all those ruffles and teddy bears on it?" And even if there wasn't a fire, I'd still just get sleepy in my pajamas and doze off at my desk; then I'll wake up and start berating myself for not working, and then I'll feel bad for not being disciplined, and then I'll start wondering if I really do have issues, and...

Since I don't have a typical 9-5 job, and since I work at home, some people seem to think that my schedule is more flexible. That would be why they think I should be able to spend time with them whenever it's convenient for them, or why they call at all hours of the day, interrupting me when I'm working. They think that since my boss isn't there to supervise what I'm doing that I can set my own schedule and do whatever I want. But even if I am working independently a lot of the time, it's still work. And I still have deadlines, especially when it comes to grading papers. I often get e-mails from anxious students saying stuff like, "Have you finished grading my paper yet? I turned it in hours ago and I should think that you'd be done grading it by now!"

That's why I hate answering the phone, because it keeps me from getting my work done. I've tried telling the person on the other end of the line that I'm busy and will have to call him or her back, but more often than not the person will keep talking (or texting). I've tried not answering the phone at all when I'm working and just letting the machine take my messages, but then the people calling will say stuff like, "Why didn't you pick up your phone? I know you were home when I called so why didn't you want to talk to me?"

This is what I sometimes wish I could do to my phone. But it's not like I have issues or anything.

It's something that's happened again and again for years, no matter how many times I try to explain to people that it's nothing personal; I'm just busy working. After all, I wouldn't bother them when they're working; it's not like I would walk into their offices or wherever they work and expect them to drop everything and talk to me. But because I'm at home some people think that I have more time to socialize. And I don't.

How do you deal with it when people interrupt you when you're trying to work?