So you know how I was supposed to find out from the staffing agency on Monday if I was on this job starting next Monday or not? Well, they didn't find out Monday. Nor did they find out yesterday. This morning I got an email from the agency saying they would definitely find out today. Well it's after 2 and I'd really like to know if I'm driving to Boston tomorrow or not. I'd really like to know if today is my last day at this job (as would my current staffing agency and the firm).
This unsureness and last minute nature is what I hate about the contract attorney industry. Sure if you happen to get on a project that lasts for a long time, and if you happen to be the team leader which basically means you're the last one to go, then you feel like you have a smidge of job security. I have experienced some of that nice security (although I also had a lot of stress at times with the whole team leader thing). The job I'm on now was supposed to end June 1. Since even before that date and up until relatively recently there was always a worry every week or two that the job would just end and we'd all be out on the street. Now it looks like they'll probably be here until 2007, while at the same time I'm throwing myself into the insecure temp world again up in Boston. So I find myself playing the waiting game again, really hoping that I find out today.
If I don't get this job, I'll be in DC until next week, meaning I don't need to pack up all of my stuff at work today, but that I do need to pack up my stuff at my sublet and move back into Ryann's house in Alexandria again since the person I'm subletting from comes home Friday. I would love to just finish my 60 hours for this week and cruise up to Boston, but if I am going to no job, I'd like to have one more paycheck as a cushion.
Argh! I just want to find out. I have let go of a lot of planning tendencies over this year, but I don't think it's too much to ask to be able to plan, you know, tomorrow.
UPDATE: I kind of had a feeling that once I whined about it, I'd hear something. Gee, I should have whined yesterday. The good news is: I got the contract job! I'm heading up to Boston tomorrow, baby!
My co-worker Robin had a psychic moment for me yesterday. I was talking to her about it and she said she had just had this feeling go through her that I would find out on Wednesday afternoon. Yay for psychic co-workers!
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Opportunity to Help
My friend Katie just wrote a post asking for help for a couple of her friends who have taken in two girls right here in DC. They have received help from their church congregation, but are dealing with legal issues that the church can't help pay for. You can donate money to help them out as they try to help these girls wind up in the best places for them.
I've just spent some time reading through their blog and the posts are both heartwarming and saddening. It is amazing to me that there are people out there who are so generous. Hopefully both girls will be able to find homes where they are loved and supported the way every child should be.
I've just spent some time reading through their blog and the posts are both heartwarming and saddening. It is amazing to me that there are people out there who are so generous. Hopefully both girls will be able to find homes where they are loved and supported the way every child should be.
Monday, September 25, 2006
Art and Autumn
This weekend my friend Julie and I made our way down to the Mall to go to the National Gallery of Art gift shop. Just the gift shop. When I went to the National Gallery before, I wandered through the galleries for a few hours and eventually made it down to the gift shop. I had just begun flipping through the poster racks, intent on getting a new print or two, when there was a dinging over the loudspeaker and an announcement that the shop was closing, please bring your purchases to the nearest cashier. Oh.
So we went to the gift shop and spent some time going through all of the art-based paraphenalia. My only qualm with the gift shop is that it seems to me that if I've just spent hours wandering through galleries, then I want to see a fair representation of that particular museum's works in the gift shop. I would say that probably 50% of the stuff in the gift shop at the National Gallery is not actually at the National Gallery. Instead there seemed to be an overrepresentation of the popular artists - Monet, Renoir, Degas, the Impressionists in general, Warhol. Not that I don't like the popular artists. I myself have a Monet poster from a show at the Art Institute of Chicago (the painting is actually housed at the National Gallery. Small world), and I bought a Pisarro print this weekend. But I saw a lot of really interesting art at the National Gallery that I would have liked to have seen represented in the gift shop. I suppose it wouldn't sell as well, though.
They had these real leaf ornaments gilded with Autumnal colors that, while not really indicative of any sort of art at the National Gallery, were just pretty in their own right. They were also $35 for 3. So I didn't buy those. But I covet them.
Another highlight were the Arts and Crafts tiles in vibrant blues and greens. Perfect to go with the Arts and Crafts house on the corner of my street that I've fallen in love with!
I bought a calendar, a couple of prints, and a present for a friend. All in all, a success!
Then Julie and I went out to the Mall and walked around a bit, finally resting on one of the benches and watching people go by. We also watched a big nasty gray cloud blow in and eventually got pelted with rain as we rushed to the Metro.
**********************************
I am in lame duck mode at work. Kind of like, la la la, I don't care anymore. I'm supposed to find out this afternoon if I will be starting a temp job in Boston next Monday. If so, then I'll be driving up on Thursday. And hopefully getting a massage on Friday. Lovely. I've been aching (har de har har) for a massage since I thought I would get one in Vegas in June, but didn't because it was really, really expensive.
If I don't get on the temp job, then I'm here for 2 more weeks. All I have to say is, I'm ready to go. I'm ready for this job to be done. I'm ready to be in Boston again. One of my roommates went apple picking in Virginia this weekend and now I'm all excited about going apple picking in Massachusetts. Then as I'm sitting here thinking about the apple picking and the pumpkins and golden and red leaves and fireplaces and pumpkin bread and all the Autumn things I love, Jason emails me a link to a corn maze that he wants to go to. A corn maze shaped like Julia Child. Rock. On.
So I'm ready for another Autumn in New England and my work ethic is basically shot. The job has been doable while I've been here. The paychecks have been worth the crappy working conditions. We're in a basement that smells like cooking food half the time because we're under the restaurant next door. Thus, my clothes and hair smell like cooking food by the end of the day. At one point there were 65 of us crammed into this small space, working long hours, with everyone getting on everyone else's nerves. Now there are 11 of us left so the conditions as far as space goes have improved a lot. But it's still a food-smelling, windowless basement. Oh and we get a visit from the roaches on a semi-regular basis. Yeah, THIS is why I went to law school.
In the midst of the job I was able to say that's just the way it is, I can make do. Now that I see a light at the end of the tunnel, I am itching to get out of this basement where I've spent 40-70 hours a week for the last 6 months. I hope that light I'm seeing is Wednesday night.
So we went to the gift shop and spent some time going through all of the art-based paraphenalia. My only qualm with the gift shop is that it seems to me that if I've just spent hours wandering through galleries, then I want to see a fair representation of that particular museum's works in the gift shop. I would say that probably 50% of the stuff in the gift shop at the National Gallery is not actually at the National Gallery. Instead there seemed to be an overrepresentation of the popular artists - Monet, Renoir, Degas, the Impressionists in general, Warhol. Not that I don't like the popular artists. I myself have a Monet poster from a show at the Art Institute of Chicago (the painting is actually housed at the National Gallery. Small world), and I bought a Pisarro print this weekend. But I saw a lot of really interesting art at the National Gallery that I would have liked to have seen represented in the gift shop. I suppose it wouldn't sell as well, though.
They had these real leaf ornaments gilded with Autumnal colors that, while not really indicative of any sort of art at the National Gallery, were just pretty in their own right. They were also $35 for 3. So I didn't buy those. But I covet them.
Another highlight were the Arts and Crafts tiles in vibrant blues and greens. Perfect to go with the Arts and Crafts house on the corner of my street that I've fallen in love with!
I bought a calendar, a couple of prints, and a present for a friend. All in all, a success!
Then Julie and I went out to the Mall and walked around a bit, finally resting on one of the benches and watching people go by. We also watched a big nasty gray cloud blow in and eventually got pelted with rain as we rushed to the Metro.
**********************************
I am in lame duck mode at work. Kind of like, la la la, I don't care anymore. I'm supposed to find out this afternoon if I will be starting a temp job in Boston next Monday. If so, then I'll be driving up on Thursday. And hopefully getting a massage on Friday. Lovely. I've been aching (har de har har) for a massage since I thought I would get one in Vegas in June, but didn't because it was really, really expensive.
If I don't get on the temp job, then I'm here for 2 more weeks. All I have to say is, I'm ready to go. I'm ready for this job to be done. I'm ready to be in Boston again. One of my roommates went apple picking in Virginia this weekend and now I'm all excited about going apple picking in Massachusetts. Then as I'm sitting here thinking about the apple picking and the pumpkins and golden and red leaves and fireplaces and pumpkin bread and all the Autumn things I love, Jason emails me a link to a corn maze that he wants to go to. A corn maze shaped like Julia Child. Rock. On.
So I'm ready for another Autumn in New England and my work ethic is basically shot. The job has been doable while I've been here. The paychecks have been worth the crappy working conditions. We're in a basement that smells like cooking food half the time because we're under the restaurant next door. Thus, my clothes and hair smell like cooking food by the end of the day. At one point there were 65 of us crammed into this small space, working long hours, with everyone getting on everyone else's nerves. Now there are 11 of us left so the conditions as far as space goes have improved a lot. But it's still a food-smelling, windowless basement. Oh and we get a visit from the roaches on a semi-regular basis. Yeah, THIS is why I went to law school.
In the midst of the job I was able to say that's just the way it is, I can make do. Now that I see a light at the end of the tunnel, I am itching to get out of this basement where I've spent 40-70 hours a week for the last 6 months. I hope that light I'm seeing is Wednesday night.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Coffee Drinkers
Hey, Mormons? Question: what about decaf coffee?
I honestly don't think I'll find concensus on this, I'm just wondering what we've all heard. The Word of Wisdom doesn't specifically say coffee and non-herbal tea, but we've been taught that they are prohibited. Some people seem to think it's because of the caffeine. Taking that stance, a lot of Mormons cut out caffeinated soda too (don't forget the Sunkist along with your cola and Mountain Dew. I still find it weird that Sunkist has caffeine. So do a couple of brands of root beer).
I knew a couple of guys in the singles group in Chicago who swore up and down that decaf coffee is just fine because it has been purged of the evil caffeine. But I know many people who would disagree with that.
And what about coffee ice cream (which I personally love)?
I honestly don't think I'll find concensus on this, I'm just wondering what we've all heard. The Word of Wisdom doesn't specifically say coffee and non-herbal tea, but we've been taught that they are prohibited. Some people seem to think it's because of the caffeine. Taking that stance, a lot of Mormons cut out caffeinated soda too (don't forget the Sunkist along with your cola and Mountain Dew. I still find it weird that Sunkist has caffeine. So do a couple of brands of root beer).
I knew a couple of guys in the singles group in Chicago who swore up and down that decaf coffee is just fine because it has been purged of the evil caffeine. But I know many people who would disagree with that.
And what about coffee ice cream (which I personally love)?
Coming Up On A Road Trip
In anticipation of my drive up to Boston in either 1 or 2 weeks, I bought a road atlas of the US, Canada and Mexico today. I have an atlas somewhere, but I think it’s packed, and I also think it’s from 1999. There’s a map store right next to our office, which is very convenient, and very tempting. I have the atlas sitting on the edge of my desk and I keep wanting to pick it up and just peruse it for awhile. Part of that is because maps rock. The other part is because I’m so bored. I know I need to stick it out for just a little while longer here, but it is really starting to wear on me. The same thing in the same windowless place day in and day out. If I do start a new temp job up in Boston, I’ll be doing the same type of work, but it will be a new topic and I am hoping that maybe we’ll have windows. Windows would be so exciting at this point.
So this is weird. One of my contacts up in Boston emailed me a job she saw that she thought I would be perfect for. Well, she was kind of right. I read the ad and it is verbatim the same ad of the non-profit that I interviewed with in the Spring. I interviewed, I did their writing exercise, and then they called me and told me very nicely that they were going to bring back a couple of other people to continue the interview process. So I guess whoever they chose didn’t work out in the end.
So this is weird. One of my contacts up in Boston emailed me a job she saw that she thought I would be perfect for. Well, she was kind of right. I read the ad and it is verbatim the same ad of the non-profit that I interviewed with in the Spring. I interviewed, I did their writing exercise, and then they called me and told me very nicely that they were going to bring back a couple of other people to continue the interview process. So I guess whoever they chose didn’t work out in the end.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
The Move, She Is Done
Something important I learned this weekend: raging PMS, a sore wrist, insistent, constant, driving rain, and New York City rush hour traffic are not a good combination. Just in case you were wondering.
I moved all my stuff up to Boston. The only things left in DC that belong to me are my car, a couple of boxes, 2 suitcases, a duffle bag, and a philodendron. To sum up, I love everyone who helped me. There were 6 of us packing up the truck on Thursday night and 9 of us unpacking the truck on Saturday morning. Jason gets a special award for packing and driving with me, as well as for putting up with the aforementioned PMS and soothing me with episodes of Arrested Development on his Mac, angled precisely so that I could glance over and catch some of the sight gags without crashing the moving truck.
Thursday: picked up Jason at Dulles, drove to the Penske shop, where the guy who rented me the truck was a retired Boston cop with a voice like Louis Armstrong. Then off to my storage unit where Jason and I began filling the truck in steadily increasing rain. Miraculously, the rain stopped by 7, which was when we planned to meet others at my old apartment and load up the rest of my stuff.
My stellar home teachers and a guy who I didn't even know who was recruited by one of my home teachers showed up and loaded the truck. I fed them on Popeye's for dinner (I asked one of my home teachers if he thought I should get pizza or Popeye's or what. He said, "You should get whatever is cheapest. But I hope Popeye's is cheapest." It wasn't, but the boys deserved some fried chicken). I then took Jason out for Korean food at this great place that we are really going to miss.
Friday: since the drive is usually 8-10 hours, we figured we could sleep in a little. Having worked 50 hours in 3 1/2 days last week I was all for sleep. Yeah, we probably shouldn't have done that. First, the rain that had held off on Thursday night came back with a vengeance on Friday. It rained. And rained. And, oh yeah, rained some more. I felt like some cartoon character with my own personal rain cloud hovering just above me and my moving truck. The rain slowed us down such that we hit New York City JUST at rush hour. I drove us through the city and then the Connecticut suburbs and by the end felt like I was going to leap out of my skin. It took us 3 hours to go 50 miles.
INEEDEDTOGETOUTOFTHETRUCK!
So we pulled off at a Chili's and actually sat down for dinner. I think we both felt a bit better after that. Until we got back in the truck and realized there was no clear way to get back on the highway. Thus I learned the reasoning behind Jason's cardinal rule: never get off the highway in Connecticut. Connecticut apparently likes to lure you off the highway with promises of refreshment and relaxation, only to stress you out afterwards as you realize that there is no way to get back on the highway. Only after driving for 10 miles and pulling over to look at the map (because your girlfriend is not actually going to hand you the map while you're driving a big moving truck on a dark and rainy road and if you ask her to she will snap at you) to verify that you are going in the right direction, will Connecticut finally let you find an on-ramp.
Exhausted, we stumbled into Jason's apartment in Providence at about 11 PM. All told, our 8-10 hour drive wound up lasting 12 1/2 hours.
Oh yeah, I also woke up Friday morning with an insanely sore wrist, making driving a little difficult and also irritating since I couldn't really find a comfortable position for my left arm. Jason volunteered to spare me the driving, but I didn't think that was fair. I have no clue what I did to it. Just tweaked it while lifting some piece of furniture or a box I guess. Thankfully, it just twinged a bit on Saturday and I was able to at least man the truck and move my stuff to the edge for my helpers to pick up and lug upstairs.
Saturday: we woke up to sunshine and blue skies. Hooray! The storm missed us or passed by us really quickly. We drove up to Cambridge and met up with my friends who came to help. The truck was unloaded and all of my stuff was upstairs in under an hour. Getting the couch into the apartment was surprisingly easy compared to doing it in the past and I now have to keep dating Jason because he knows the secret of maneuvering the couch out of the apartment.
And that was it for the move. I had an appointment Monday morning and spent Monday afternoon unpacking a little and moving some furniture around. Do you have any idea how much storage space is under a queen-sized bed? I am giddy with the storage space.
Being up there, unpacking, settling in, and hanging out with Jason last night, it seemed very surreal that I would be coming back to DC today. But I'm back for a couple of more weeks at least. I may be starting a temp job in Boston at the beginning of October, so I may only be here for 2 more weeks, not 3. Crazy. I'm going to try to get off early on Saturday so I can make a last run to the Mall and hopefully hit another museum before I go. Suddenly I leave very soon. It is so strange since when I moved here, I was planning to be in DC indefinitely.
This year has taught me one important lesson: it is impossible to plan. I have always been a big planner and wanted to know what was going to happen next week, next month, next year. I know now that I really have no idea. All I can do is make sure I have work and a way to pay my bills and maybe I can plan to go to dinner with someone in a couple of weeks, but that is the extent of the plans that I am capable of making.
I do have one goal for the coming year. For years I have talked about how much I want to travel, but I just haven't had the opportunity. I am almost 30 and I haven't been anywhere. I mean, I've been all over the U.S. and into northern Mexico and to the Bahamas, but never to any of the far-flung locales that I've always dreamed about. So my goal is that next year, I am going somewhere. I don't know where. England or Ireland seems the most manageable since I don't really know what my economic situation will be. But then, you know, New Zealand would rock. The ultimate would be Greece or Italy, but those may have to wait. It's good to have a goal.
I moved all my stuff up to Boston. The only things left in DC that belong to me are my car, a couple of boxes, 2 suitcases, a duffle bag, and a philodendron. To sum up, I love everyone who helped me. There were 6 of us packing up the truck on Thursday night and 9 of us unpacking the truck on Saturday morning. Jason gets a special award for packing and driving with me, as well as for putting up with the aforementioned PMS and soothing me with episodes of Arrested Development on his Mac, angled precisely so that I could glance over and catch some of the sight gags without crashing the moving truck.
Thursday: picked up Jason at Dulles, drove to the Penske shop, where the guy who rented me the truck was a retired Boston cop with a voice like Louis Armstrong. Then off to my storage unit where Jason and I began filling the truck in steadily increasing rain. Miraculously, the rain stopped by 7, which was when we planned to meet others at my old apartment and load up the rest of my stuff.
My stellar home teachers and a guy who I didn't even know who was recruited by one of my home teachers showed up and loaded the truck. I fed them on Popeye's for dinner (I asked one of my home teachers if he thought I should get pizza or Popeye's or what. He said, "You should get whatever is cheapest. But I hope Popeye's is cheapest." It wasn't, but the boys deserved some fried chicken). I then took Jason out for Korean food at this great place that we are really going to miss.
Friday: since the drive is usually 8-10 hours, we figured we could sleep in a little. Having worked 50 hours in 3 1/2 days last week I was all for sleep. Yeah, we probably shouldn't have done that. First, the rain that had held off on Thursday night came back with a vengeance on Friday. It rained. And rained. And, oh yeah, rained some more. I felt like some cartoon character with my own personal rain cloud hovering just above me and my moving truck. The rain slowed us down such that we hit New York City JUST at rush hour. I drove us through the city and then the Connecticut suburbs and by the end felt like I was going to leap out of my skin. It took us 3 hours to go 50 miles.
INEEDEDTOGETOUTOFTHETRUCK!
So we pulled off at a Chili's and actually sat down for dinner. I think we both felt a bit better after that. Until we got back in the truck and realized there was no clear way to get back on the highway. Thus I learned the reasoning behind Jason's cardinal rule: never get off the highway in Connecticut. Connecticut apparently likes to lure you off the highway with promises of refreshment and relaxation, only to stress you out afterwards as you realize that there is no way to get back on the highway. Only after driving for 10 miles and pulling over to look at the map (because your girlfriend is not actually going to hand you the map while you're driving a big moving truck on a dark and rainy road and if you ask her to she will snap at you) to verify that you are going in the right direction, will Connecticut finally let you find an on-ramp.
Exhausted, we stumbled into Jason's apartment in Providence at about 11 PM. All told, our 8-10 hour drive wound up lasting 12 1/2 hours.
Oh yeah, I also woke up Friday morning with an insanely sore wrist, making driving a little difficult and also irritating since I couldn't really find a comfortable position for my left arm. Jason volunteered to spare me the driving, but I didn't think that was fair. I have no clue what I did to it. Just tweaked it while lifting some piece of furniture or a box I guess. Thankfully, it just twinged a bit on Saturday and I was able to at least man the truck and move my stuff to the edge for my helpers to pick up and lug upstairs.
Saturday: we woke up to sunshine and blue skies. Hooray! The storm missed us or passed by us really quickly. We drove up to Cambridge and met up with my friends who came to help. The truck was unloaded and all of my stuff was upstairs in under an hour. Getting the couch into the apartment was surprisingly easy compared to doing it in the past and I now have to keep dating Jason because he knows the secret of maneuvering the couch out of the apartment.
And that was it for the move. I had an appointment Monday morning and spent Monday afternoon unpacking a little and moving some furniture around. Do you have any idea how much storage space is under a queen-sized bed? I am giddy with the storage space.
Being up there, unpacking, settling in, and hanging out with Jason last night, it seemed very surreal that I would be coming back to DC today. But I'm back for a couple of more weeks at least. I may be starting a temp job in Boston at the beginning of October, so I may only be here for 2 more weeks, not 3. Crazy. I'm going to try to get off early on Saturday so I can make a last run to the Mall and hopefully hit another museum before I go. Suddenly I leave very soon. It is so strange since when I moved here, I was planning to be in DC indefinitely.
This year has taught me one important lesson: it is impossible to plan. I have always been a big planner and wanted to know what was going to happen next week, next month, next year. I know now that I really have no idea. All I can do is make sure I have work and a way to pay my bills and maybe I can plan to go to dinner with someone in a couple of weeks, but that is the extent of the plans that I am capable of making.
I do have one goal for the coming year. For years I have talked about how much I want to travel, but I just haven't had the opportunity. I am almost 30 and I haven't been anywhere. I mean, I've been all over the U.S. and into northern Mexico and to the Bahamas, but never to any of the far-flung locales that I've always dreamed about. So my goal is that next year, I am going somewhere. I don't know where. England or Ireland seems the most manageable since I don't really know what my economic situation will be. But then, you know, New Zealand would rock. The ultimate would be Greece or Italy, but those may have to wait. It's good to have a goal.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
The Singles Ward
This originally started out as a comment to this post on Feminist Mormon Housewives, but then I kept writing and writing and figured I'd just post it here. I guess I have a lot to say about singles wards.
While I enjoyed my college years in the singles ward immensely, I actually think there are a few big flaws with singles wards (having been in them for almost 10 years now I've had some time to mull this over). Singles wards exist in the main for people who are 18-30 and are kind of a way station for people waiting to get married - or at least that's what it feels like. This engenders a few problems.
First, the rapid and sometimes very young marriages. Now I have nothing against either of those ideas really, since my mom was 19 when my parents got married, they were married 7 months after they met, and they're still together almost 31 years later (and they weren't even Mormon!). However, since the divorce rate in the church is pretty much the same as outside the church, I think those very fast and very young marriages can lead to problems, particularly if the marriages happen for the wrong reasons - such as being driven by hormones or by peer/leader pressure.
Even though this pressure to get married ASAP may be more concentrated in the singles ward, I really think it has more to do with church culture as a whole than simply with the singles wards. When you're surrounded by other singles, the issue is amplified, but single friends of mine who go to a family ward and aren't married still don't really feel like they have a place within this church where the family is so central. In fact, I found myself getting frustrated in my singles ward Relief Society a few weeks ago when the lesson was basically about being a good spouse. The teacher suggested we think about the list of qualities we want in our future husband. Um, I haven't really done the whole list thing since I was 20 or so, realizing that the odds are I'm not going to measure up to a list of perfect qualities, and neither is the man I fall in love with. Sure, there are a few things I would like, but drawing up a non-negotiable list just sets us all up for disappointment (This was also a favorite in-class activity of several of my Young Women's leaders).
The second flaw is that most singles wards kick people out once they turn 31. I am almost 30 and have many friends who have been booted from the singles wards. They suddenly find themselves removed from their friends, often surrounded by young couples with babies, and with a virtual big red "Failure" stamped on their heads. Some people I know never make it past this stage - they may stop going to church altogether. Others pop back into the singles ward every other week because they don't really know what to do with themselves and don't feel comfortable reaching out to the women in the Relief Societies who they don't seem to have a lot in common with on the surface. At least in the singles ward you have the basic underlying fact of being single to unite you. You understand each others struggles in this family-oriented church.
One thing I think the church as an entity could do to alleviate some of this alienation is by really working to have a place for these older (ie 31+) singles. When I lived in Chicago I went to a family ward for the first year I was there. A singles branch existed, but it was on the southside and it was more convenient to go to the family ward, especially for people dependent on public transportation. The YSA organization as a whole was thriving and we had inter- and intra-stake activities often. They had stake reps and the YSA organization was treated almost like another auxiliary. I hear vague reports of Single Adult reps, but I never get the impression that they flourish like they should considering there are so many singles in the church over 31.
However, if you don’t kick people out at 31 you run into the situation like the one in Cambridge, MA – no one gets kicked out of the singles ward, no matter how old. Many people go to the family wards on their own volition as they progress through their 30’s and into their 40’s, but there is no rule that they must leave. On the surface, this doesn't seem like much of a problem. I met some amazing 31+ people in those wards.
There were times, though, when I personally was just tired of the whole singles ward “thing.” The games, sometimes feeling too old for the silly activities and getting-to-know-you parties, wondering if a boy would ever notice me, wanting to be more involved with something that felt real rather than being the 37th person on the Activities or Welcoming Committees because without Primary, Young Women’s, Young Men’s, etc., you quickly run out of callings for a ward of over 150 people. I talked to other friends about this and voiced a desire to go to a family ward (at 27! Shocking!). However, the only problem is that if I went to a family ward, I wouldn’t be able to see my friends every week and would lose a lot of my social connections. Because no one is ever kicked out of the singles wards, very, very few singles actually go to the family wards. My friends and I could always try to make the extra effort, but when Sunday night dinners are arranged in Relief Society or at Munch and Mingle, and when during the week we’re all so busy with school and work and life, church is often the only feasible time to connect.
I don’t really have an answer, except for an idea to completely revamp the system. Frankly, I think singles wards should only be for people 24 and under – basically college age, if you put in time for a mission. I really enjoyed the singles ward when I was in college. It was like a training ground. I was in the Relief Society presidency, where we didn’t have any huge issues, but just enough for us to get our feet wet and show us how this whole church bureaucracy thing worked. To me, it seems like singles wards should be just that: training for the future. You learn how things work, and then you move on, without the stigma of being 31 and not married {GASP!}. And you have the ability to move on without the fear of losing your entire social life if you do because there are a bunch of singles in the family ward too, or of being thought of as the weirdo who left the singles ward before she turned 31.
In addition to restricting singles wards to just that college-age group, there needs to be more of an organization for singles. Each ward would have reps, maybe a couple older and a couple younger, who would meet with other ward reps, and plan activities, both at the ward and stake level. As far as I know, some of these things are already in place, but they're not being emphasized. Not that the church needs to go as far as saying, "Hooray! You're single!" But how about a little less emphasis on being married instantly right this second as soon as you start dating, and a little more emphasis on developing yourself and building friendships and camaraderie in the meantime, without the need to segregate us off into singles wards?
For example, in Chicago the ward singles met for FHE and other smaller activites, plus we had a singles Sunday School class. We'd do Break-the-Fast every month with the other singles in the stake. It’s very easy now to blow off some of the bigger activities if you’re in a singles ward because you already have a large social scene. When I was in Chicago, you could bet that the majority of the active singles in the stake showed up for those large activities because those were THE ONLY big activities and gave all of us a chance to branch outside our ward group.
If you divided all the singles in, for example, the Longfellow Park wards in Cambridge among the family wards in the stake, not only would each family ward have a fairly decent-sized singles group, but there would be a huge influx of dynamic energy into those wards. I had a friend in Chicago who worked in the Young Women’s group in the family ward and loved it. As a fun, successful, intelligent, and well-educated single woman she was an amazing role model to those girls, many of whom came from inner-city Chicago. She was a different (not better, just different) voice for the girls to hear from every Sunday.
Personally and selfishly, I love a lot of aspects of the singles ward, particularly my amazing experiences in Relief Society. And having a quiet chapel to reflect in during the Sacrament is lovely. Being surrounded by women like me in Relief Society and listening to and relating to their thoughts and experiences has taught me so much. However, I know I could learn a lot from people who aren’t just like me.
In Chicago, my visiting teaching companion was also a single woman, but she was 15 years older than me. We taught a Puerto Rican woman with two little boys who was going through a divorce and suffered from sickle-cell anemia. We taught a very wise and hilarious African-American woman living in a poor neighborhood with a 15 year-old son who adored her. We taught an upwardly mobile 27 year-old new mother whose husband worked for an investment firm in downtown Chicago. Every single one of those women were so different from each other and from me. But we all shared with each other and learned and grew from those interactions. We are all sisters in the Gospel, after all. Not that Chicago was some utopia for singles like I may be painting it as. I did eventually go to the singles branch, but I thought the family wards did a pretty good job with the small number of singles they had and made us feel not quite so left out in the midst of the family ward.
I don't see the church doing a major overhaul of the singles program anytime soon, but I think there need to be changes. The numbers of older singles keep increasing, and the current system seems to be resulting in alienation and disenchantment with the church as an entity (not the Gospel, but the church). Frankly, if my choices are going to be A) a lesson on the traits I want in my future husband, or B) a lesson on why the teacher's husband is great and how they communicate and love one another, seconded and thirded by the other women in the room, I think I'll pick option C) neither, and try to find a church where I don't often feel like my worth is wrapped up in my marital status.
While I enjoyed my college years in the singles ward immensely, I actually think there are a few big flaws with singles wards (having been in them for almost 10 years now I've had some time to mull this over). Singles wards exist in the main for people who are 18-30 and are kind of a way station for people waiting to get married - or at least that's what it feels like. This engenders a few problems.
First, the rapid and sometimes very young marriages. Now I have nothing against either of those ideas really, since my mom was 19 when my parents got married, they were married 7 months after they met, and they're still together almost 31 years later (and they weren't even Mormon!). However, since the divorce rate in the church is pretty much the same as outside the church, I think those very fast and very young marriages can lead to problems, particularly if the marriages happen for the wrong reasons - such as being driven by hormones or by peer/leader pressure.
Even though this pressure to get married ASAP may be more concentrated in the singles ward, I really think it has more to do with church culture as a whole than simply with the singles wards. When you're surrounded by other singles, the issue is amplified, but single friends of mine who go to a family ward and aren't married still don't really feel like they have a place within this church where the family is so central. In fact, I found myself getting frustrated in my singles ward Relief Society a few weeks ago when the lesson was basically about being a good spouse. The teacher suggested we think about the list of qualities we want in our future husband. Um, I haven't really done the whole list thing since I was 20 or so, realizing that the odds are I'm not going to measure up to a list of perfect qualities, and neither is the man I fall in love with. Sure, there are a few things I would like, but drawing up a non-negotiable list just sets us all up for disappointment (This was also a favorite in-class activity of several of my Young Women's leaders).
The second flaw is that most singles wards kick people out once they turn 31. I am almost 30 and have many friends who have been booted from the singles wards. They suddenly find themselves removed from their friends, often surrounded by young couples with babies, and with a virtual big red "Failure" stamped on their heads. Some people I know never make it past this stage - they may stop going to church altogether. Others pop back into the singles ward every other week because they don't really know what to do with themselves and don't feel comfortable reaching out to the women in the Relief Societies who they don't seem to have a lot in common with on the surface. At least in the singles ward you have the basic underlying fact of being single to unite you. You understand each others struggles in this family-oriented church.
One thing I think the church as an entity could do to alleviate some of this alienation is by really working to have a place for these older (ie 31+) singles. When I lived in Chicago I went to a family ward for the first year I was there. A singles branch existed, but it was on the southside and it was more convenient to go to the family ward, especially for people dependent on public transportation. The YSA organization as a whole was thriving and we had inter- and intra-stake activities often. They had stake reps and the YSA organization was treated almost like another auxiliary. I hear vague reports of Single Adult reps, but I never get the impression that they flourish like they should considering there are so many singles in the church over 31.
However, if you don’t kick people out at 31 you run into the situation like the one in Cambridge, MA – no one gets kicked out of the singles ward, no matter how old. Many people go to the family wards on their own volition as they progress through their 30’s and into their 40’s, but there is no rule that they must leave. On the surface, this doesn't seem like much of a problem. I met some amazing 31+ people in those wards.
There were times, though, when I personally was just tired of the whole singles ward “thing.” The games, sometimes feeling too old for the silly activities and getting-to-know-you parties, wondering if a boy would ever notice me, wanting to be more involved with something that felt real rather than being the 37th person on the Activities or Welcoming Committees because without Primary, Young Women’s, Young Men’s, etc., you quickly run out of callings for a ward of over 150 people. I talked to other friends about this and voiced a desire to go to a family ward (at 27! Shocking!). However, the only problem is that if I went to a family ward, I wouldn’t be able to see my friends every week and would lose a lot of my social connections. Because no one is ever kicked out of the singles wards, very, very few singles actually go to the family wards. My friends and I could always try to make the extra effort, but when Sunday night dinners are arranged in Relief Society or at Munch and Mingle, and when during the week we’re all so busy with school and work and life, church is often the only feasible time to connect.
I don’t really have an answer, except for an idea to completely revamp the system. Frankly, I think singles wards should only be for people 24 and under – basically college age, if you put in time for a mission. I really enjoyed the singles ward when I was in college. It was like a training ground. I was in the Relief Society presidency, where we didn’t have any huge issues, but just enough for us to get our feet wet and show us how this whole church bureaucracy thing worked. To me, it seems like singles wards should be just that: training for the future. You learn how things work, and then you move on, without the stigma of being 31 and not married {GASP!}. And you have the ability to move on without the fear of losing your entire social life if you do because there are a bunch of singles in the family ward too, or of being thought of as the weirdo who left the singles ward before she turned 31.
In addition to restricting singles wards to just that college-age group, there needs to be more of an organization for singles. Each ward would have reps, maybe a couple older and a couple younger, who would meet with other ward reps, and plan activities, both at the ward and stake level. As far as I know, some of these things are already in place, but they're not being emphasized. Not that the church needs to go as far as saying, "Hooray! You're single!" But how about a little less emphasis on being married instantly right this second as soon as you start dating, and a little more emphasis on developing yourself and building friendships and camaraderie in the meantime, without the need to segregate us off into singles wards?
For example, in Chicago the ward singles met for FHE and other smaller activites, plus we had a singles Sunday School class. We'd do Break-the-Fast every month with the other singles in the stake. It’s very easy now to blow off some of the bigger activities if you’re in a singles ward because you already have a large social scene. When I was in Chicago, you could bet that the majority of the active singles in the stake showed up for those large activities because those were THE ONLY big activities and gave all of us a chance to branch outside our ward group.
If you divided all the singles in, for example, the Longfellow Park wards in Cambridge among the family wards in the stake, not only would each family ward have a fairly decent-sized singles group, but there would be a huge influx of dynamic energy into those wards. I had a friend in Chicago who worked in the Young Women’s group in the family ward and loved it. As a fun, successful, intelligent, and well-educated single woman she was an amazing role model to those girls, many of whom came from inner-city Chicago. She was a different (not better, just different) voice for the girls to hear from every Sunday.
Personally and selfishly, I love a lot of aspects of the singles ward, particularly my amazing experiences in Relief Society. And having a quiet chapel to reflect in during the Sacrament is lovely. Being surrounded by women like me in Relief Society and listening to and relating to their thoughts and experiences has taught me so much. However, I know I could learn a lot from people who aren’t just like me.
In Chicago, my visiting teaching companion was also a single woman, but she was 15 years older than me. We taught a Puerto Rican woman with two little boys who was going through a divorce and suffered from sickle-cell anemia. We taught a very wise and hilarious African-American woman living in a poor neighborhood with a 15 year-old son who adored her. We taught an upwardly mobile 27 year-old new mother whose husband worked for an investment firm in downtown Chicago. Every single one of those women were so different from each other and from me. But we all shared with each other and learned and grew from those interactions. We are all sisters in the Gospel, after all. Not that Chicago was some utopia for singles like I may be painting it as. I did eventually go to the singles branch, but I thought the family wards did a pretty good job with the small number of singles they had and made us feel not quite so left out in the midst of the family ward.
I don't see the church doing a major overhaul of the singles program anytime soon, but I think there need to be changes. The numbers of older singles keep increasing, and the current system seems to be resulting in alienation and disenchantment with the church as an entity (not the Gospel, but the church). Frankly, if my choices are going to be A) a lesson on the traits I want in my future husband, or B) a lesson on why the teacher's husband is great and how they communicate and love one another, seconded and thirded by the other women in the room, I think I'll pick option C) neither, and try to find a church where I don't often feel like my worth is wrapped up in my marital status.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Five Years Ago...
I lived and worked in Chicago. Right before I left to catch the express El to the Loop at 7:50, the news report I had on said that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. Reports were sketchy, and the speculation was that it was a small propeller plane that had veered off course somehow.
45 minutes later, after a train ride closed off from the news, I walked into my office and was inundated by people running back and forth, catching snippets of frantic conversation. "...Another plane..." "...Large passenger planes..." "...Pentagon..." "...Pennsylvania..." "...Terrorists..."
I turned on the radio that the secretary before me had left at my desk and turned up the volume so everyone around me could hear all of the incoming reports. I called my mom, who I knew would still be asleep, and told her to turn on the TV. A few minutes later, the first tower fell. She started screaming, "Oh my God! It fell! All those people are dead!" She cried and I just sat frozen.
The second tower fell.
Speculations started coming in as to who was next. My dad worked in the Sears Tower, and the rumors made it a target too. He went home.
They evacuated the Loop. The firemen said we couldn't use the elevators and so we all walked down the stairs. As I hurried down 33 flights, surrounded by co-workers and all the other people in the building, all I could think about were the people on the stairs in the World Trade Center, those who made it, and those who didn't.
Out on the street, thousands of people hurrying toward the trains to get home. They ran the express trains longer, to get us out of the Loop more quickly.
I got home and turned on the news. I called friends and family and sometimes we talked and sometimes we just sat together in stunned silence.
A week later I went to the rally and wore my American flag pen made by a friend, who sold them and donated the money. I put money in the firemen's boots in Evanston and Chicago. Gradually, life restarted and the news wasn't on 24 hours a day. But I still cried a little every time a report came on about 9/11. It became easier over time to get on with things as before.
I was not in New York or in Washington, DC, but the events of that day affected me as an American and as a human being.
I know I am not the only person who will be writing about this today. It is cathartic to think about it, remember, and then hope for the future. I watched a news report the other day about the babies born after 9/11 whose dads died that day. It was so beautiful to see all those little 4 year-olds, a lot of whom look like their dads, and know that even for those people who suffered the most personal losses, life does go on.
45 minutes later, after a train ride closed off from the news, I walked into my office and was inundated by people running back and forth, catching snippets of frantic conversation. "...Another plane..." "...Large passenger planes..." "...Pentagon..." "...Pennsylvania..." "...Terrorists..."
I turned on the radio that the secretary before me had left at my desk and turned up the volume so everyone around me could hear all of the incoming reports. I called my mom, who I knew would still be asleep, and told her to turn on the TV. A few minutes later, the first tower fell. She started screaming, "Oh my God! It fell! All those people are dead!" She cried and I just sat frozen.
The second tower fell.
Speculations started coming in as to who was next. My dad worked in the Sears Tower, and the rumors made it a target too. He went home.
They evacuated the Loop. The firemen said we couldn't use the elevators and so we all walked down the stairs. As I hurried down 33 flights, surrounded by co-workers and all the other people in the building, all I could think about were the people on the stairs in the World Trade Center, those who made it, and those who didn't.
Out on the street, thousands of people hurrying toward the trains to get home. They ran the express trains longer, to get us out of the Loop more quickly.
I got home and turned on the news. I called friends and family and sometimes we talked and sometimes we just sat together in stunned silence.
A week later I went to the rally and wore my American flag pen made by a friend, who sold them and donated the money. I put money in the firemen's boots in Evanston and Chicago. Gradually, life restarted and the news wasn't on 24 hours a day. But I still cried a little every time a report came on about 9/11. It became easier over time to get on with things as before.
I was not in New York or in Washington, DC, but the events of that day affected me as an American and as a human being.
I know I am not the only person who will be writing about this today. It is cathartic to think about it, remember, and then hope for the future. I watched a news report the other day about the babies born after 9/11 whose dads died that day. It was so beautiful to see all those little 4 year-olds, a lot of whom look like their dads, and know that even for those people who suffered the most personal losses, life does go on.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Disassociation
I keep having the very weird feeling of not being quite sure what city I'm in. It's worse when I have just gotten back from Boston. It's even more worse when I try to remember if I live in the same city as certain friends of mine who have also moved around.
For instance, this morning I was jotting down names of people I want to invite to my 30th birthday party and I honestly had to think for a second if my friend Allen and I would be living in the same city at the time that I would be having the party. I know Allen from law school so for 3 years we were both in Boston. However, his girlfriend (now wife) and family lived in Virginia so he was always popping down to the DC area. Consequently, he was one of my biggest cheerleaders when I was deciding to move down to DC.
After graduation we both moved to the DC area, but then because of Jason I kept going back up to Boston. So this morning I thought for a split second that I needed to add Allen to the party list and then I thought, "No, wait, he's in DC."
Then I thought, "Oh, but where's the party going to be? {pause} Boston. Right, Boston."
Then I thought, "Where am I right now?"
Yes, that was my real and true thought process.
For instance, this morning I was jotting down names of people I want to invite to my 30th birthday party and I honestly had to think for a second if my friend Allen and I would be living in the same city at the time that I would be having the party. I know Allen from law school so for 3 years we were both in Boston. However, his girlfriend (now wife) and family lived in Virginia so he was always popping down to the DC area. Consequently, he was one of my biggest cheerleaders when I was deciding to move down to DC.
After graduation we both moved to the DC area, but then because of Jason I kept going back up to Boston. So this morning I thought for a split second that I needed to add Allen to the party list and then I thought, "No, wait, he's in DC."
Then I thought, "Oh, but where's the party going to be? {pause} Boston. Right, Boston."
Then I thought, "Where am I right now?"
Yes, that was my real and true thought process.
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