#StrongerThanTheStorm

Christine picked me up early Sunday morning to go to the beach.  Armed with beach chairs, sunscreen, Jay-Z’s book Decoded, I was ready to do absolutely nothing.

 Summer is supposed to be the time to take things slowly, but I’d been on full-speed all summer, and this trip to the beach was my first opportunity to relax.  Between work, visiting friends up and down the mid-Atlantic, and studying for the GRE, I had little time to get outside and enjoy the sun.  To make matters worse, the catchy “Stronger Than the Storm” jingle was constantly stuck in my head, tormenting me at random moments throughout the day.  So when Christine suggested that we bask in the summer sun, I immediately jumped at the opportunity.

Fresh off of taking the GRE the previous morning, I felt like the grey cloud that hung over my entire summer had finally made way for clear skies.  We chatted the whole way to the beach, only interrupted by the directions from Google Maps. The beautiful weather brought a huge crowd to the beach and despite our arriving at the beach before 10:30, parking was limited. 

Space on the beach, however, seemed abundant, and we quickly set up our beach chairs before lathering on the sunscreen.  In recent years, the Jersey Shore has become notorious because of the MTV show of the same name.  While the phrase “Jersey Shore” may conjure images of boardwalks teeming with people looking for a rowdy party, this beach was anything but that. Kids and adults of all ages were enjoying the sun, the sand, and the ocean, and the only shops across the street were selling pizza and hoagies and board shorts.  I was pleasantly surprised to see that the water where we were sitting had been cordoned and designated only for surfing – something that I had never seen at a New Jersey Beach.  

When the sun had zapped all of the moisture from our skin, Christine and I walked down to the water to cool off in the waves.  Unlike the cold water of the West Coast beaches, this water was warm enough to comfortably enter without hesitation.  

To add to our gratifying trip, we also witnessed a marriage proposal in the form of one of those small airplanes that usually flies across the sky advertising local bars and eateries. This plane message, however, read, “Michele, will you marry me? Ron”  The crowd of beachgoers broke out in applause, as the happy couple happened to be sitting a few umbrellas away from us. 

I’m happy to report that my first visit back to the Jersey Shore following Superstorm Sandy last October was one of my best visits to the beach.  I was incredibly impressed by the strength and the resiliency of the beach town community.  While damage from the storm was still visible in some areas, the boardwalk had been rebuilt, complete with new bike stands.  My visit goes to show that New Jersey truly is #StrongerThanTheStorm.

When I Grow Up

When you’re a little kid, adults always ask you what you want to be when you grow up.  When you’re my age, people always ask me what I’m going to do with that – “that” being a degree in Human Biology in my case.

People assume that Human Biology = Pre Med and that I’m obviously studying for MCATS and applying for medical school, but a doctor of medicine is not in my foreseeable future for many reasons.  The thought of being responsible for an individual’s life scares me immensely.  Instead, I tell people that I am more interested in public health, in effecting change at a broader level and focusing on prevention rather than treatment.  Through my classes and experiences, both personal and professional, I’ve been exposed to numerous career paths all having at least one finger in the public health pie.  In high school, I really wanted to be an epidemiologist, trying to find the source of diseases and working to prevent them in the future.  In the back of my mind, I’m still holding onto the idea that I could be in the Epidemic Intelligence Service.   More recently, I’ve entertained the idea of pursuing a PhD in Health Economics and potentially going into policy work.  At present, I’ve decided that I want to go into health care management, either working as an administrator in a hospital or working on the business side of an integrated primary care facility like Kaiser Permanente.  At age 50, that is what I want to be doing.  I’ve written it down, so now I have to make sure that it comes true.  How do I do that?

Short term goals help us to achieve our long term goals.  After I graduate, I could work directly in a hospital, and spend the rest of my career working my way up.  That doesn’t sound like a bad option, especially for someone who is 100% sure what they want to do in life.  But I’m not 100% sure that what I want to do now is what I will want to be doing in 5 years, in 10 years, and even further down the line.

Instead, I’ve decided that I want to pursue consulting immediately after I graduate.  A career in consulting will expose me to a variety of industries, in addition to health care, while also allowing me to develop my business acumen.  As I’ve grown older, I’ve realized that health care is an industry and that hospitals and medical centers are companies.  If they want to stay in business, they need to make sure that their customers, patients in this case, are satisfied, and that daily operations run smoothly.  By pursuing consulting in the short-term, and I have yet to determine how long the short-term is, I’m hoping to set myself up for success in the long-term, whenever that may be.  The skills that I develop in consulting will transfer easily to “industry” and will offer me a fresh perspective on an industry with which I am already familiar.

I’m excited for the fall when I can start pursuing my short term goals, and see what they have in store for me!

Networking

As an introvert (my Myers-Briggs Personality type in INTJ), the thought of networking – of meeting new people and talking to them for hours on end – is somewhat daunting.  What I realized last week as a participant in the 2013 JumpStart UGrad Financial Services and Consulting Diversity Forum, is that networking doesn’t have to be daunting.  After two 15-hour days and one 9-hour day of learning about the finance and consulting industries and speaking with people who work in those fields, I, of course, needed a break, but I didn’t feel as physically and mentally drained as I had anticipated.

To me, the term ‘networking’ implies meeting people in hopes of getting something out of the relationship, whether it be advice, a recommendation, or a foot in the door.  In theory, networking should be mutually beneficial.  While I understand that networking is necessary in today’s world, the thought of conversing with someone and always having a question of “what am I going to get out of talking to this person” or “how can this person help me” in the back of my mind really rubbed me the wrong way.  However, I knew that I would have to get over this disturbance if I hoped to gain from the conference.

I needed to change my mindset and my understanding of “networking,” and that’s exactly what I did.  As my mom drove me to the conference, I said to her, ”I’m not very good at networking. I’d rather just get to know people and make connections by showing a genuine interest in them.”

Throughout the conference, I attempted to make connections with peers and professionals alike by addressing our commonalities and by asking questions out of curiosity. This method was especially successful for me because people love to talk about themselves.  After a few conversations, I felt much more at ease, and I was willing to step out of my comfort zone into the networking sphere.  I found that looking at networking from a new perspective – as getting to know people and what they like and don’t like (sometimes with respect to their jobs)– was less exhausting than being overly ambitious and trying to find career-related value in every conversation.

I left the conference confident in my networking and conversational skills and also with the belief that I could be a competitive candidate for jobs in the consulting and finance industries, even as a Human Biology major.  Despite the fact that the forum was only two and a half days, I also believe that I made some connections that will continue long after the conference and even beyond the sphere of the working world.

Networking in person, seems to have been the easy part.  The next challenge is following up via email and LinkedIn with my contacts.

Oxford Comma

I’ve been doing a significant amount of reading and writing recently, both on my own and for work.  One issue that has come up frequently is that of the Oxford Comma.

The Oxford Comma, also known as the Serial Comma, is the comma that precedes the conjunction (usually ‘and’) when listing a series of three of more items.  I had no clue what an Oxford Comma was until I heard Vampire Weekend’s catchy song of the same name.  Since then, I’ve been debating the correct usage of the punctuation mark and until recently, I still had yet to settle on one consistent way to use it.

Despite all of the grammar training and workshops that my high school conducted, one of my English teachers told me that I still used commas unnecessarily.  Looking for ways to cut down on my comma usage, the Oxford Comma was the first to go.  The lack of an Oxford Comma didn’t seem to make a difference, so I began to leave it off in all of my writing.

However, my supervisor last summer, who was once an editor for one of her college’s publications and a self-proclaimed grammar aficionado, had a different opinion.  When editing my writing, she always made sure that I included an Oxford Comma in every press release and report that I wrote.

Faced with two conflicting pieces of advice from two people with more writing and editing experience than I had, I did what anyone would do, I turned to the internet in order to determine the correct usage of the Oxford Comma, if one existed at all.

Of course, the best answer I found was: it depends.

Well, the answer was more a little bit more specific.  In general, a Oxford Comma is not necessary unless the meaning of the sentence varies with and without the comma.

Here’s a funny picture to illustrate when an Oxford Comma would be needed:

Courtney

Courtney and I on a recent trip to Napa Valley

When I was a little kid, I was incredibly annoying.  I also had a bit of a mean streak, especially towards my sister, Courtney.  I distinctly remember getting in trouble because I made her cry three times in one day (I still insist that all three times weren’t my fault).  On a different occasion, I (purposely) spilled orange juice on her math homework.

I’m going to retrospectively justify my unpleasant – some might even say cruel – behavior towards my sister by saying that it was all in the name of admiration.  In my eyes, my sister was the coolest person in the world.  She always had the biggest smile on her face; her nails were always painted in the coolest colors; and she had so many friends.  Growing up, I didn’t want to just be her sister, I wanted to be her friend. Luckily for me, my sister put up with my stupid antics and always made time for me, despite my meanness.

Now as a twenty-one year-old senior in college, my admiration for my sister has only grown.  I’ve also learned to express my veneration in better, more telling ways. I call and text my sister constantly.  I’m also making plans to follow in my sister’s footsteps and move to Washington, D.C. once I graduate. True to form, Courtney has been incredibly responsive and incredibly welcoming every time I’ve gone to D.C. to visit her.  She has not only let me stay in her apartment, but she has also taken me out to dinner and to brunch with her friends as well.  I’m trying to convince her that renting an apartment together would be ideal, and I’m pretty sure she’s starting to entertain that idea (or at least I’m hoping she is).

It’s a common saying that in the cookies of life, sisters are the chocolate chips.  If that’s true, I can’t wait to continue deepening my relationship with my sister and find what other delicious treasures she has to share.

The Time I Met Condoleeza Rice

It was graduation day for the Stanford class of 2012.  As a member of Grad Crew, I had been running around campus well before the sun came up making sure that everything went seamlessly that day.

Following Cory Booker’s inspiring commencement speech, I had a brief lunch break before I had to report back to the Grad Crew Headquarters.  I walked as fast as I could to the hidden cove by Hoover Tower where the International Relations diploma ceremony would take place.  One of my best friends from the club soccer team would be graduating with a Bachelor’s Degree in International Relations with Honors from the Center for International Security and Cooperation.

I hurried over to the ceremony in my red dry-fit T-shirt and khaki shorts, the Grad Crew uniform.  When I found my friend and congratulated her, she pointed out that Condoleeza Rice, former Secretary of State under President George W. Bush, would be handing out the diplomas.  To my surprise, I turned around to see Dr. Rice in her black robe looking very professorial.  I had seen her around campus once or twice – she somehow manages to evade the general student population – but never this close.

“Let’s go get a picture,” my friend said as she ushered me along.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t look presentable, and my hands are dirty.”

“You’re going to pass up an opportunity to take a picture with Condoleeza Rice and shake her hand because your hands are dirty?  She’ll know that you were working on Grad Crew.”

I was still a little hesitant, but I adopted a ‘Why not?’ attitude and walked with my friend to take a picture with Dr. Condoleeza Rice.

Although it was only a brief meeting, as Dr. Rice was swarmed with graduates and their families waiting for a photo opportunity, it was, without a doubt, the cherry on top of a great day.

Answer: Daily Double!

“Doo-do-doo-do-doo-do-do-do-do-do-do-duh-duhduh-duhduhduhduh!” 

It’s 7 o’ clock, and the familiar Jeopardy jingle rings throughout the family room. Everyone in my family knows that for the half hour that Jeopardy is on TV, I get to control the remote.  

I don’t know when it started, but for as long as I can remember, I’ve been an obsessive Jeopardy fan.  Although most of the facts tested on the show, prove useless outside of trivia games, I’ve become addicted to pulling facts that I learned in fifth grade out of remote areas of my mind. Jeopardy has found a way to consolidate my thirst for knowledge and my innate competitiveness into one half hour show. The best part is I’ve piqued my family’s interest in the show, so now I can compete against them as well.  

This obsession only reveals itself in small, but intense, spurts throughout the year.  I don’t have the time to watch Jeopardy when I’m at school, so when I get home, I plan my evenings around the show.  While most of my friends set aside time for Scandal and Game of Thrones, I assign a spot in my calendar for Jeopardy.  For instance, this summer I’ve decided that if I take the train that arrives at 6:30, I either have to go on a quick run before 7, missing World News Tonight beforehand, or wait until 7:30.  If I wait to run, I also have to wait to eat dinner.  My evening becomes filled with a series of events dependent on making time for Jeopardy.  

When my sister and I were little, we used to call my dad “MURK,” which stood for “Man of Useless and Random Knowledge,” because he knew so many facts that served little purpose.   It’s becoming clearer and clearer that the apple doesn’t fall from the tree, as I slowly become the “DURK” in the family, the “Daughter of Useless and Random Knowledge.”

SEPTA

While most people would cringe at the thought of sitting shoulder to shoulder with strangers on public transportation, I welcome the idea.

I’m not a seasoned public transportation rider, but I’ve had my fair share of experiences.  I’ve ridden the subway in New York City and the BART around San Francisco; I’ve taken the SCVTA 22 into Mountain View and the NJTransit bus into Princeton; now I’m trying my hand on the SEPTA train into Philadelphia each day for my commute to my summer internship.

I overheard a guy on the train the other day saying that SEPTA ridership is up 40% in the past ten years.  I’m not at all surprised by that statistic.  Although the price of a monthly pass seems expensive, it’s much cheaper than paying to fill up the gas tank multiple times each month and paying for parking in Center City Philadelphia ($20 a day, are you kidding me?). With all of the conversations and debates going on around the environment, the train is clearly more environmentally-conscious than driving 80 miles roundtrip each day, especially when you’re making the trip solo.  Furthermore, the commute on public transportation provides the time to read, listen to music, or occasionally stare out the window.

If I’m not in the mood to read, people-watching – or simply observing the people around me, what they’re doing, and where they’re going – is one of my favorite pastimes.  Public transportation is one of the best places to people watch, especially when you get on at the first stop in the morning and off at the last stop each evening.  I’ve come to expect certain people to get on at certain stops and to sit in certain seats.

Of course when you get so many people with varying personalities in such tight quarters, you’re bound to have disagreements as well.  I witnessed my first verbal fight this evening, where two women were hurling accusations at one another like children.  Everyone in the train car listened cautiously to the loud altercation, but no one said anything for fear of getting caught in the middle.  Luckily, the train conductor arrived to check tickets and passes and quickly put an end to the disagreement.

The train conductors themselves are very interesting people, and I’ve made friends with a few of them, which sometimes saves me the trouble of pulling out my monthly pass each ride.  I’ve also learned a considerable amount about the conductors themselves.  Some of them had desk jobs before, but got tired of that lifestyle.  One was a cop in Southern California, but decided to leave the profession after seeing too much of what no one should have to see.  All of them are extremely kind, and customer service is what they pride themselves on, as I learned through one of my conversations.

Even though the commute is long and tiresome, it’s one part of the day that I look forward to.

Count Your Blessings

I had my writing prompt for today selected and ready to be written about when I got a text from my sister.

“PS did you know that Richard* has cancer?!”

In disbelief I quickly went to my Facebook, the quickest way to find up-to-date information on anyone ranging from best friends to acquaintances and everyone in between.  Sure enough, Richard’s profile picture was of him, with a hairless head covered by a fitted baseball cap, and some friends.  Luckily, his most recent status update indicated that he was in remission.

Richard and I go way back.  We were in the same kindergarten class, and I remember buying him legos for his birthday in third grade.  Our eighth grade English teacher hated us because we would always pass notes back and forth, and on the last day of eighth grade, he gave me a home-made good luck card, as I left for private school.  I still have the card sitting atop my desk at home.  Throughout high school, we would see each other every so often, but our contact dwindled as we both became overwhelmed with busy schedules.  Senior year of high school, Richard even showed up to my front door with cupcakes that read “PROM?” Of course I said yes.  During college, our contact only faded further, and we last spoke via Facebook messages at the end of January.  In half a year, so much had changed.

I have been really busy recently, studying abroad and being enveloped by my schoolwork and summer internship.  Furthermore, I have been really stressed out about studying for the GREs, applying to jobs, and other issues at home.   However, learning that someone I deeply care about had cancer put things in perspective for me.

It’s sad that it takes an event such as this for me to slow down and realize that I have so much to be thankful for in life.  My wealth comes from my relationships with my friends and family and all of the positive feelings and emotions that come with them.  While I do a decent job meeting and becoming friends with people who will have a positive and meaningful impact on my life, I need to do a better job of maintaining old relationships, no matter what obstacles may stand in the way.  Today, I’m making a commitment to myself (and to all of my old friends who I haven’t spoken to in a while) to reach out to old friends just to see how they’re doing and to be more appreciative of the things that I find valuable in life.

*name changed to protect my friend’s identity

Keep Calm and Bake On

“One and a half cups of blueberries,” my mother reminded me. “The colander is under the stove.”

I had just donned my orange and white apron, which has just recently become my favorite piece of clothing, and begun pulling the ingredients for blueberry muffins out of the cabinets.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been the baker in the family.  There are pictures of my sister, at five, and me, at three, wearing child-sized aprons and standing on stepping stools, trying to help our parents bake.  (In these same pictures, my sister and I are also covered from head to toe in flour.)

Whenever I pull my newest confection out of the oven, I feel an immense sense of accomplishment.  There’s something about playing a role in creating the food that I’m going to eat that makes me so much more excited to eat it.  As the sweet aroma fills the kitchen, my mouth begins to salivate.

Baking is no easy task.  It requires precision and attention to detail.  With cooking there is some freedom and creativity, but baking is like chemistry; one wrong move in baking can mean the difference between delicious, fluffy bread and a slab of dough that has refused to rise.

I’ve experienced these failed reactions firsthand.  In my fifth-grade home-ec class, my group’s cupcakes came out a shade lighter than everyone else’s cupcakes.  My group attempted to find the cause of our pale cupcakes, but we couldn’t be certain until we bit into the cupcakes.  It turned out that we had used a cup of salt, rather than a cup full of sugar. (Easy mistake!)  Although measure twice, cut once is a carpentry metaphor, it applies perfectly to baking.  Since that experience, I’ve always made sure to double-check that I’m using the correct ingredients and the correct measurements.

In recent years, my family has started to eat healthier, local foods.  In a household full of carrots and celery baked goods serve as a reprieve from fruits and veggies.  I like to tell myself that the blueberries make blueberry muffins  healthy, but does the lime make key lime pie healthy too?