When I was younger, my momentum to write was amazing. I wrote down every trivial detail in a blog.
Diaryland 2000-2002
Livejournal 2002-2004
Myspace Blog 2004-2006
Now that I actually have something to say, I never blog about it. Little slice of irony, eh? Well, I do have some rather exciting announcements to share. Here goes:
1) I'm having a baby! WHA? No, it's true. Haley and I found out shortly before our October trip to Seattle. Morning nausea made us suspect; the pregnancy test confirmed it. Haley is approximately 4 months along and judging from the tests, we are going to have a healthy baby boy. I've gone through the full gamut of joyous emotions and I'm really excited for what lies ahead.
2) Annnnd...we are getting married! Honestly, we would be just as happy if we remained registered domestic partners. What made us change our minds was the revelation that domestic partners get dicked BIG TIME in health benefits taxes. We are going to have a civil ceremony next month at City Hall and a church wedding in June of next year. We have to go through all of this pre-Cana marriage counseling before we can get married in the church.
3) New job! I finally maneuvered my way out of HR. I seized an opportunity to work in my company's editorial department; if I'm lucky, this new position (proofreader) will lead to a career in copywriting.
4) Moving on out :) Haley and I are thisclose to closing on a condo in Jersey City. Never thought I would leave NYC. Then again, I never thought I would have a wife, baby and desirable career.
Good things come to those who wait and take their swing when it's their turn at the plate.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Friday, April 30, 2010
The Hideous Burgundy Gown of Success
On May 27th, I, at long last, received a coveted diploma from Brooklyn College. I entered college as an undergrad 13 years ago. 13 Fucking years ago. Bill Clinton was President of the United States during my freshman year. Ska music was still immensely popular in this region and gave uncoordinated white people an excuse to dance and feel connected to something other than an impending trust fund. I was one of these people, minus the rich relative death bonus. I listened to a lot of ska back in those days. My friends and I frequented shows in clubs in Manhattan that no longer exist. That's another story for a different.
The buracracy of Brooklyn College hadn't quite caught up to my shitty grades in the spring of 2002. In fact, the Degree Audit department saw it fit to send me a congratulatory postcard on my upcoming graduation. A bit of a shock to me since I was absolutely certain I would fail a required physics course I was taking at the time. from the moment they accepted my application and approved me for admission, nothing Brooklyn College ever did made any sense. Add my graduation to that lengthy laundry list.
I had little patience for the formulaic valedictorian speech. She hit all the usual points:
I received a call from my mother one day in 2003. She invoked the mighty "we" in telling me that "We know you didn't graduate from college." Usually, "we" was just my mother, who always felt emboldened by the support of her imaginary backers. I'm not very good at lying on the fly so I produced a fairly lackluster acknowledgment of my wrongdoing and hung up the phone. Fuck.
Years in the making, my moment of undoing was swift and less than epic. My mother fancied herself a sleuth, so I'm sure she took some satisfaction in discovering my deception. News travels fast and my brother called me from Cleveland later in the day to express his concern and disappointment. My sister, according to him, had taken all of this especially hard, a bit of foreshadowing for things to come when I would move in with her a year and a half later. I'm sure my sister and I discussed this at some point. My brain has done me a wonderful service by filtering out the details of that encounter.
In 2008, I was gainfully employed and doing a rather commendable job of managing my finances. I had just finished paying off nearly $20,000 in credit card debt accumulated during my years of drinking and using. Back then, I spent recklessly and often, always hoping that some wealthy benefactor would rescue me from financial ignominy. That incredibly generous, well bankrolled tutelary saint never descended from the heavens to assume my financial woes. Thank god for that. One goal I held onto, even through the miseries of addiction and homelessness, was graduating from college. So I did it. I enrolled, suffered through a shortened semester of core geology, complete with a lecture hall full of know-it-alls and the obligatory field trip in freezing weather to Central Park to discover the great mysteries of our earth. Yawn.
Graduation this time around was satisfying. No academic ambiguity, although there was more than enough red tape to overcome. I donned the burgundy gown and lined up in a stifling hot hallway, nestled uncomfortably in the thick of hundreds of other graduates. A throng of latecomers looked very lost. They were urgently herded to their proper lineup spots by faculty volunteers. I smiled to myself, knowing full well what so many of the other graduates were painfully unaware of. The hand-holding. The free counseling from advisers. The retroactive "pass-fail" option (don't ask, it's a City University of New York thing). It all ends when the tassel changes sides and the cap makes a brief but triumphant trip skyward.
The real world can be a cruel beast. Heartbreak, sickness, death, unemployment and despair await you. If your lucky, you'll get healthy doses of love, success and hope. Hope, above all, is the catalyst for success and love. I fill my life with hope, even when I don't feel deserving of it. Hope negates the same kind of despair that swallowed me whole and led me down a path of self ruin. Don't ever give up or you might deny yourself the opportunity to do something you never thought you could.
Point is, over a decade later and that person I was has long since flatlined. Unfortunately, Brooklyn College is the one thing that melds my unimpressive past to my present. It keeps alive the memory of the me that I'd rather forget. The idiot who believed the high school teacher who told him that you have to "try really hard to not get laid in college." I guess my yeoman work ethic did me in that time. Or maybe the enlightened asshole who thought that drinking beer in the college radio station everyday in lieu of going to class was the key to succeeding in an academic setting. I nearly managed to get out close to "on time" but not quite.
The buracracy of Brooklyn College hadn't quite caught up to my shitty grades in the spring of 2002. In fact, the Degree Audit department saw it fit to send me a congratulatory postcard on my upcoming graduation. A bit of a shock to me since I was absolutely certain I would fail a required physics course I was taking at the time. from the moment they accepted my application and approved me for admission, nothing Brooklyn College ever did made any sense. Add my graduation to that lengthy laundry list.
Decked out in hideous nylon burgundy robes and caps, the graduates were paraded out into the middle of the campus, sparing none of us the misery of the merciless humidity and sun. The graduation began in earnest and slowed to a cruel and screeching halt when members of graduating classes pre-dating WWII made their way down aisle. Participating in nothing less than a death march, these elderly ladies and gents moved at an unbearably slow pace towards the stage. I wondered why these poor souls were not living out the remainder of their years spending their social security checks on bingo and vitamin tonics. Maybe they couldn't let go of the past, the same way I have difficulty letting go of mine.
I had little patience for the formulaic valedictorian speech. She hit all the usual points:
Distinguished members of the faculty. Check. We'll always carry with us the memories of this truly special experience. Check. For good measure, she threw in a little caveat about taking control of life not burying your head in the sand like an ostrich, an oft repeated myth that has no foundation in truth. Dating back to my pre-kindergarten graduation where me and my fellow graduates fashioned caps out of paper bags, I was reminded that this brand of spectacle is never for the graduates. In pre-k, it was clearly for the parents. Pretty much the same for elementary, middle and high school. College graduation is for the college itself. The institution. Like a new line of luxury cars, fresh off of the assembly line, the graduates are products on display. Knowing this, I'm less than thrilled to be a part of it.
A year removed from 9/11/2001, the speeches were chock full of references to that sad day. Unfortunately, such oratory trends inevitably come off as forced and, for lack of a better adjective, hokey. I'd had about enough of it all when I decided to deploy the ace in my sleeve---or more to the point, the narcotics in my blazing hot robe. I removed an asthma inhaler from the pocket of my button down shirt, unscrewed the mouth piece and tapped three yellowish pills into my hand. Seated to my left was an old friend from the college radio station. We witnessed the unveiling of the meds and watched me swallow them, sans water. I don't think he blinked. Members of the radio station had watched me consume massive quantities of Robitussin over a two year span, so a few little pills was probably no cause for alarm.
I ended up feeling a bit cheated. The pills, a diet medication I pilfered from my father, had little or no effect on my state of mind. The speeches still sucked and I was still hot, bored and restless. A solitary common sense idea did pop into my head, very close to the end of the ceremony. Even though I was sitting in the middle of campus amongst a sea of hideous Burgundy Gowns of Success, I was a fraud. Deep down inside, I knew that I had probably failed the Physics class required to graduate. No sense in revealing that to my parents, though, since that would cost me a $200 graduation present and a fish and chips dinner at the local pub/restaurant.
About a week after the ceremony, my parents' mailbox started to become inundated with postcards from the college saying things like:
FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED
DON'T QUIT NOW
Whatever I told my mother to assuage her suspicions and paranoia, quite miraculously worked. Even a call home from my physics professor was explained to her as a personal congratulations for having passed his class. In actuality, Professor Bond phoned me with irrefutable proof that I had failed his class. His exact words?
A year removed from 9/11/2001, the speeches were chock full of references to that sad day. Unfortunately, such oratory trends inevitably come off as forced and, for lack of a better adjective, hokey. I'd had about enough of it all when I decided to deploy the ace in my sleeve---or more to the point, the narcotics in my blazing hot robe. I removed an asthma inhaler from the pocket of my button down shirt, unscrewed the mouth piece and tapped three yellowish pills into my hand. Seated to my left was an old friend from the college radio station. We witnessed the unveiling of the meds and watched me swallow them, sans water. I don't think he blinked. Members of the radio station had watched me consume massive quantities of Robitussin over a two year span, so a few little pills was probably no cause for alarm.
I ended up feeling a bit cheated. The pills, a diet medication I pilfered from my father, had little or no effect on my state of mind. The speeches still sucked and I was still hot, bored and restless. A solitary common sense idea did pop into my head, very close to the end of the ceremony. Even though I was sitting in the middle of campus amongst a sea of hideous Burgundy Gowns of Success, I was a fraud. Deep down inside, I knew that I had probably failed the Physics class required to graduate. No sense in revealing that to my parents, though, since that would cost me a $200 graduation present and a fish and chips dinner at the local pub/restaurant.
About a week after the ceremony, my parents' mailbox started to become inundated with postcards from the college saying things like:
FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED
DON'T QUIT NOW
Whatever I told my mother to assuage her suspicions and paranoia, quite miraculously worked. Even a call home from my physics professor was explained to her as a personal congratulations for having passed his class. In actuality, Professor Bond phoned me with irrefutable proof that I had failed his class. His exact words?
"I think you ought to consider signing up for summer classes this semester."
The charade was kept up for about two years. Sufficient time had passed and I no longer felt threatened by post cards and calls from Brooklyn College faculty. My mother had long since abandoned her efforts to "see" the diploma. I simply told her that I was way too busy at my new job sending faxes at a white shoe law firm in Midtown to ever make the trek to Flatbush and pick it up.
The charade was kept up for about two years. Sufficient time had passed and I no longer felt threatened by post cards and calls from Brooklyn College faculty. My mother had long since abandoned her efforts to "see" the diploma. I simply told her that I was way too busy at my new job sending faxes at a white shoe law firm in Midtown to ever make the trek to Flatbush and pick it up.
Years in the making, my moment of undoing was swift and less than epic. My mother fancied herself a sleuth, so I'm sure she took some satisfaction in discovering my deception. News travels fast and my brother called me from Cleveland later in the day to express his concern and disappointment. My sister, according to him, had taken all of this especially hard, a bit of foreshadowing for things to come when I would move in with her a year and a half later. I'm sure my sister and I discussed this at some point. My brain has done me a wonderful service by filtering out the details of that encounter.
In 2008, I was gainfully employed and doing a rather commendable job of managing my finances. I had just finished paying off nearly $20,000 in credit card debt accumulated during my years of drinking and using. Back then, I spent recklessly and often, always hoping that some wealthy benefactor would rescue me from financial ignominy. That incredibly generous, well bankrolled tutelary saint never descended from the heavens to assume my financial woes. Thank god for that. One goal I held onto, even through the miseries of addiction and homelessness, was graduating from college. So I did it. I enrolled, suffered through a shortened semester of core geology, complete with a lecture hall full of know-it-alls and the obligatory field trip in freezing weather to Central Park to discover the great mysteries of our earth. Yawn.
Graduation this time around was satisfying. No academic ambiguity, although there was more than enough red tape to overcome. I donned the burgundy gown and lined up in a stifling hot hallway, nestled uncomfortably in the thick of hundreds of other graduates. A throng of latecomers looked very lost. They were urgently herded to their proper lineup spots by faculty volunteers. I smiled to myself, knowing full well what so many of the other graduates were painfully unaware of. The hand-holding. The free counseling from advisers. The retroactive "pass-fail" option (don't ask, it's a City University of New York thing). It all ends when the tassel changes sides and the cap makes a brief but triumphant trip skyward.
The real world can be a cruel beast. Heartbreak, sickness, death, unemployment and despair await you. If your lucky, you'll get healthy doses of love, success and hope. Hope, above all, is the catalyst for success and love. I fill my life with hope, even when I don't feel deserving of it. Hope negates the same kind of despair that swallowed me whole and led me down a path of self ruin. Don't ever give up or you might deny yourself the opportunity to do something you never thought you could.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
The blahs?
I'm not accustomed to feeling crappy for a sustained period of time. The great pontificators of brain science call this depression, eh? Well, I'm not that happiest guy ALL of the time, but I'm far from being a terminal mope, so take your depression DSMIV, and stuff if. I've got the blahs.
I can't believe it's already Saturday, which means Sunday is tomorrow and Monday lurks around the bend. Next week, I get to spend two days in Roseland, NJ (where the fuck is that?) getting training for our new payroll/hr system. About as exciting as it sounds, I suspect.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
It's been a long time!
Indeed. Not much in the way of newsworthy events have occurred in my life since I last posted an entry (way back in August). The evil auditors have returned to my job and will end up causing me much anxiety for the duration of their stay. I'm told that they will only be here for a week, but last time they stayed for over a month. I won't hold my breath, but I hope they do. Hold their breaths, that is. And pass out. And leave me alone.
Finances have been tight here in the Connor/Powell household. We took a huge hit in the wallet two months ago when our dog, Fox, decided that he would begin chewing his ass. He was so unrelenting with his grotesque hobby that he successfully managed to chew a hole in his ass, thereby causing an anal pocket to rupture. Yum. We ended up taking the poor baby to an emergency animal hospital in Forest Hills. Peace of mind and a healthy doggy are priceless, but anesthesia, flushing, antibiotics and pain killers are, sadly, not.
Approximately $700 dollars :(
Thank god Haley has something "like" overdraft fee protection with her Chase debit card. We did NOT have anything close to $700 in checking, but were able to overdraw. It cost us a $4o fee, but it was better than walking out of the animal hospital with a wounded pup.
I guess I do have something newsworthy to share: I finally took the CPE (CUNY Proficiency Exam) and I'm pretty sure I passed! I won't know for sure for about 10 weeks, but the test was relatively easy and as much of a slam dunk that a test designed to test basic reading and writing skills could be.
Finances have been tight here in the Connor/Powell household. We took a huge hit in the wallet two months ago when our dog, Fox, decided that he would begin chewing his ass. He was so unrelenting with his grotesque hobby that he successfully managed to chew a hole in his ass, thereby causing an anal pocket to rupture. Yum. We ended up taking the poor baby to an emergency animal hospital in Forest Hills. Peace of mind and a healthy doggy are priceless, but anesthesia, flushing, antibiotics and pain killers are, sadly, not.
Approximately $700 dollars :(
Thank god Haley has something "like" overdraft fee protection with her Chase debit card. We did NOT have anything close to $700 in checking, but were able to overdraw. It cost us a $4o fee, but it was better than walking out of the animal hospital with a wounded pup.
I guess I do have something newsworthy to share: I finally took the CPE (CUNY Proficiency Exam) and I'm pretty sure I passed! I won't know for sure for about 10 weeks, but the test was relatively easy and as much of a slam dunk that a test designed to test basic reading and writing skills could be.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Speaking of barbecues
Kristen...weren't we supposed to get together at some point during this summer? Our plans kept getting derailed and now the summer is almost over :(
Summer is over?
Seriously. The Mets are only slightly better than the Washington Nationals. I have not attended a single Mets game or barbecue. Therefore, the summer of 2009 sucks.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
The best of times
I've decided that I need lazier weekends spent at home. Haley and I have been awfully busy the last few weeks. She with her schoolwork and with work work. The crazy weather we've had in New York City hasn't contributed anything meaningful to my precious downtime, either.
Seriously.
What the fuck is up with thunder and lightning storms every week. After 30 years of living in NYC, I feel like we are experiencing late April/early May weather. Doesn't make much sense.
It's audit season again at my job and accordingly, I can expect to be working later than usual and harder than normal. I don't like these audits. They don't seem to serve a practical purpose other than to enforce a hastily passed reform law, aka SOX. The whole SOX act created a lot of jobs and a bureaucratic beast. Thank you, Ken Lay. Thank you so very much for all of this.
I'm at a stage where I have begun re-evaluating my goals and career wants. I've been at my company for almost 3 years. I began as a temporary receptionist----->full time receptionist----> human resources coordinator. There is little doubt in my mind that I could achieve a higher position in my company, especially within HR. Recruiting doesn't particularly appeal to me anymore. It sounded like an awesome position a year ago, an opportunity to hone one's people skills. After studying the logistics of recruiting, I've concluded that it's really a sales position with bottom lines, quotas and other things I do not enjoy. HR generalist is an interesting discipline. You need to be very knowledgeable of labor and INS laws. From what I've gathered, the generalist is also a gatekeeper of personnel data, so there's a huge trend tracking component to the job. You also have to fire people. I would not enjoy that.
What do I like? I enjoy communicating with people. To do so in an academic setting would be ideal. One of my friends starting tutoring at a community college in Brooklyn about 2 years ago. He is now an adjunct lecturer. It's worth exploring this a bit more, but my goals are more in site than they have ever been.
Now back to the regular scheduled program, Ryan sits on his ass and does nothing.
Seriously.
What the fuck is up with thunder and lightning storms every week. After 30 years of living in NYC, I feel like we are experiencing late April/early May weather. Doesn't make much sense.
It's audit season again at my job and accordingly, I can expect to be working later than usual and harder than normal. I don't like these audits. They don't seem to serve a practical purpose other than to enforce a hastily passed reform law, aka SOX. The whole SOX act created a lot of jobs and a bureaucratic beast. Thank you, Ken Lay. Thank you so very much for all of this.
I'm at a stage where I have begun re-evaluating my goals and career wants. I've been at my company for almost 3 years. I began as a temporary receptionist----->full time receptionist----> human resources coordinator. There is little doubt in my mind that I could achieve a higher position in my company, especially within HR. Recruiting doesn't particularly appeal to me anymore. It sounded like an awesome position a year ago, an opportunity to hone one's people skills. After studying the logistics of recruiting, I've concluded that it's really a sales position with bottom lines, quotas and other things I do not enjoy. HR generalist is an interesting discipline. You need to be very knowledgeable of labor and INS laws. From what I've gathered, the generalist is also a gatekeeper of personnel data, so there's a huge trend tracking component to the job. You also have to fire people. I would not enjoy that.
What do I like? I enjoy communicating with people. To do so in an academic setting would be ideal. One of my friends starting tutoring at a community college in Brooklyn about 2 years ago. He is now an adjunct lecturer. It's worth exploring this a bit more, but my goals are more in site than they have ever been.
Now back to the regular scheduled program, Ryan sits on his ass and does nothing.
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