Eye of the Beholder: Metabolism Is A Dirty Word

Not directly related but it is about slowing down… Enjoy some vintage, pre-Snookie lookalike Christina.

We’re all warned about it. No one should be surprised. Only a select few can hope to avoid it, those who are biologically immune to the inevitable. Although you should be prepared, it will probably start to sneak up on you, gradually killing your…waistline.

Yes, your metabolism will slow down!!! Oh, the (in)humanity!! How dare my body deceive me and decide to showcase the foods I eat and exercise I avoid! Long gone are the days pizza as a late night snack and/or breakfast is a perfectly acceptable idea. Long gone is the bottomless pit stomach or potential modeling career. (Okay, scratch that. I’ve never been THAT skinny and I’ve always loved food.)

While you may not become a hard-core calorie counter or marathon runner, around a certain age, you start to recognize your choices have repercussions. Another reason being a grown-up sucks. You start to feel the need to rationalize (or excuse) your dietary and exercise choices. “If I do this today, I get to/have to do this tomorrow.” “I deserve a treat.” “I’m not supposed to look the way I did at 20. Life has happened.” “But I’m working harder than I used to. This isn’t fair.” and on and on…

Over the last 3-4 years, my metabolism has slowed down, a steady decline. It was time. I was in my mid-twenties, a fitting addition to a quarterlife crisis. And now my body, the thing I just started to figure out and get comfortable with/in, is betraying me. From acne to muffin tops, some of us only get a few “good” years. After that, we start to the painful and annoying process of denying or excusing.

Personally, I’m an excuser. I revolt against the idea of not having the one food I’ve been craving for minutes, hours or days. My cravings are also rather intense. I’ll eat my weight in “healthier” avoidance foods, doing more damage than the original crave, only to give in to the original crave anyway. My only saving grace and reason I’m not currently 400 lbs is the fact that I don’t crave things often. And I like fruits and veggies. Now, don’t get me wrong, there are few things in the world better than fried potato products and ice cream but I believe that most of the time my brain is on my side, or at least on the side of vanity. Sure, health plays a small, pat-yourself-on-the-back part in it but let’s be real, it’s really about vanity.

However, while I am an excuser, I am also an adult, therefore making me a reluctant denier. There are (many) times something like tres leches or avoiding Body Pump sounds like an excellent idea. And then I look at my…slowed body, pick a part. My wasted Gold’s membership is evident in the middle. Sugar and potatoes evident on the arms and legs. I’d even argue my lack of sufficient water intake could be seen in my face and skin. Add a few gray hairs and it’s official, I’m getting older.

I guess metabolism is as dirty a word as thirty or wrinkle. It’s just a part of growing up (Yay!!!). And every time I want to complain about it, I should try to remember the joys I would’ve never experienced if I ceased to exist the day my body started to betray me.

Sure, I can get in shape. It’s just going to be harder than it would’ve been a few years ago. And who wants to do all that work when you can just complain about it and opt for the 4 piece nugget instead of the 6 and congratulate yourself with a cookie?

~Jo’van

February 5, 2013
Categories: Eye of the Beholder (Self-Image), Quarterlife Crisis, Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: 17 Comments

The World…As I See It: Facebook – Defeating the Purpose of a Reunion?

Sadly no video from a duet for the ages from the Royals Class of 2002. 😉

Last year, I attended my 10 year high school reunion. While I didn’t expect any real drama, it was still largely/sadly uneventful. Despite the efforts of our two organizers, only about a third of our class showed up for one part or another. But the truly disappointing thing was the near lack of surprises. For the most part, all you needed was a Facebook account and a little time on your hands to “catch-up” via legal cyber stalking.

Apparently foregoing potentially awkward, inconvenient and/or costly reunions in favor of social media is not limited to the Royals class of 2002. School reunion attendance is on the downturn… New York Times story “Remember Me From Yesterday?”

As the graduating class of 2002, my classmates and I were among the early adopters of Facebook. The site, which launched in February 2004 at Harvard but quickly spread across U.S. college campuses, was new, novel and a seemingly better option than MySpace or BlackPlanet. (Remember that? Haha.) In addition, in the beginning you had to have a college/university email address. That alone gave you the impression of exclusivity (and hopefully fewer high school kids and creepy old men lying about…well everything).

After a few months of gentle prodding from an early adopter friend, I signed up near the end of the first semester of my junior year and joined the Facebook “revolution”.

For better or worse, Facebook has been a part of my (near) daily life for 8 years now. Much like iPods perfected/cemented what mp3 players “should be”, Facebook redefined social media. Millions of people cannot go a day – or an hour really… – without making sure they’re not missing out on life as defined by updates, photos and likes.

I both love and hate Facebook for its “magical” connective properties. Facebook, Twitter, instant messaging and texting have made it possible for us both to connect with people we would not normally get to see or talk to and also avoid real, meaningful interactions. Technology has opened the door for the socially awkward and passive aggressive to connect. You never have (or should want) to be more than one click or swipe away from EVERYONE! and their business. (While I recognize Skype and like video conferencing are among similar advances, I see it as more connective than passive. Sometimes it’s simply nice to see the people you’re talking to even if you can’t touch them.)

I’m not going to bemoan the death of our culture. But there have been significant changes, some I like, others I don’t. In the case of my high school reunion, your curiosity could be satisfied on your couch with a smart phone, denying people like me the opportunity to see it in real life. Come on, let’s be honest, people only post the most flattering or hilarious photos of themselves on Facebook. I want to see the trainwrecks and the still-beautiful-10-years-later-so-I-continue-to-hate-yous in person, under harsh lighting. Is that so wrong?

Oh, and of course, I loved seeing my more than Facebook friends (you know the ones whose birthdays I know BEFORE Facebook reminds me) in person. Our small group essentially used a reunion as an excuse to all be home at the same time. Everyone else was just extra. Facebook had already informed us of everything we thought we needed to know about you and your life.

Wondering if we’ll even have a physical 20 year reunion? Perhaps just Skype or FaceTime?

~Jo’van

February 3, 2013
Categories: Friendly Drama (The Ones You Choose), Quarterlife Crisis, The World...As I See It (Everything Else), Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: Leave a comment

Quarterlife Crisis: Making Happiness a Choice

The inspiration for this song may be a little different but in the end, Luther and I are saying the same thing.  Make the most of your current situation.  Luther Vandross “Love the One You’re With”

Recently I’ve been mulling over the idea of making happiness a choice.  People regularly seem to make conscious decisions to be unhappy, to focus on only the negative, to point out the faults of all those around them.  Is it possible to do the opposite?  Can you choose to be happy?

I’m not asking if we should choose to be delusional.  If something is wrong in your life, it’s simply wrong.  But following excellent grandma advice, why don’t more people spend time counting their blessings than listing their hardships?  If I counted my blessings instead of sheep to go to sleep, I’d always get to sleep.  They’re somewhat endless if I’m being honest and not selfish.

It seems for many people (myself often included) identifying your issues with a situation is always easier than finding comfort in what’s right.  Although this could apply to any possible life situation, as evident by the responses to a recent Facebook post along the same lines, it’s easy to equate this with romantic situations/relationships.  And why not?  People have a tendency to “settle” in romantic relationships probably more than any other situation.  Family: Well, you’re born with them.  Friends: You chose them and losing them is sad but maybe not the worse thing ever.  Work: Most people would enjoy doing something else but you’re getting a paycheck so… But boyfriends/girlfriends: You’re investing time and it can be difficult to admit that was a poor investment.  I’ve done it.  I’ve settled in the past for the chance at a fulfilling relationship only to be filled full of anger, hurt or absolute indifference.  Luckily, I’m not currently in a situation like that.  🙂  But I can understand the jumping to conclusions, people.

Anyway….My point is regardless of the type of situation you find yourself in can you choose to be happy?  To make the most of it and roll with the punches?  What does being miserable at work do for you?  Either look for another position or suck it up.  Bosses aren’t always going to see your potential or value your opinion and co-workers are not always going to work as hard as you do.  If you’re currently having a “thing” with a friend or family member, do you love that person enough to just squash it?  Sure, it may be something that needs to be dealt with so it’s not repeated but rather than fight to win, can you just fight to move on?  It’s exceptionally hard to pay your bills right now.  Is stressing about it going to help in any way?  Can you just be thankful that it’s “barely” instead of “impossible”?  You’ve gained weight or are losing your hair.  Sure, we’d all like to look or best but do you really look “bad” or just not your ideal? I’m sure you get my point.

Pessimism is part of my “thing”.  I’m a smart-ass who doesn’t let things slide and revels in tearing things apart.  However, that personality type is often very unhappy as well.  Sure, my reaction can cause a few laughs for others but it’s usually at the expense of someone/something else.  By making a conscious choice to be happy, I’m also having to make a conscious choice to be less judgmental.  I think that’s going to be hard….

Not miserable therefore very happy,

Jo’van

October 17, 2010
Categories: Quarterlife Crisis, Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: 1 Comment

Quarterlife Crisis: Crisis Resolution(s)

Sting featuring Stevie Wonder “Brand New Day”

The streets have been cleared.  The bottles of cheap champagne and plastic cups disposed of.  Friends are either icing down the painful first day of “I’m going to workout” resolutions or still recovering from the “I don’t remember any of the new photos posted on Facebook” antics of last night.  Yes, it’s New Year’s Day!

Traditionally, only the first second to hour of this day are really important.  We spend a lot of energy getting ready for the Eve.  Parties, new party dresses under heavy winter coats, vague resolutions and sometimes desperate searches for someone ideal (or ideal enough at 11:55) to kiss at midnight.  All (well, at least most) faults of the prior year are forgiven.  It’ll be 2010 soon.  I’ll/You’ll/The world’ll do better beginning January 1st.  Despite specific feelings around New Year’s resolutions, everyone hopes the next year will be a good year, if not, a better one than last year.  And with the economic downturn of ’08 and ’09, I know there are high hopes for a plateau, if not a steady climb out of this mess we’ve created for ourselves.  But finances aside, what are you hoping 2010 will look like?

Of course, we’re all supposed to and I’m sure on some level do hope and/or pray for things like world peace, lower carbon footprints, higher literacy rates, greater human rights, saving the manatees and other such noble goals.  But when you narrow it down to what’s both really important and really feasible in your world, what do you come up with?

In the past, I’ve pledged to do things like get in shape, be on time, call family and friends more often, actually save money (and keep it saved), and whatever other simple things I know I should be doing anyway.  Despite the year I made that particular resolution, I still need to do all of those things.  But I want something new for 2010.  It’d be great to make all of those things real.  But I want something very specific and new for this new year.

In the grand scheme of things, last year was just a little rocky.  But in eyes of a 25-year-old, 2009 was scary and exciting.  God tested and delivered me.  Despite being laid off, depleting my savings, my dog attacking someone, losing my wife, being (somewhat painfully) reminded why I prefer to stay single, and whatever other shitty things that happened, as of 12/31/09, I was in good shape.  I have a new job I (actually) enjoy, friends I’m blessed to be able to call on, family who has no choice but to love me :-), my weekends free for the first time in 3 1/2 years, a prospect of a real relationship, good health, steady income and the ability, the mindset and, hopefully, the heart to only strengthen all of these things.

Ever the pessimist/realist, I resolve to be happy in 2010.  Of course, I won’t be able to completely stop plotting and planning for the worst.  In fact, I hope I never do.  But what I do need to work on is accepting the good just for the sake of it being good.  Good things happen to me.  I need to start enjoying them.

I received some great advice at the airport on my way home for the holidays.  The lady checking IDs at the security checkpoint looked at my smiling ID photo (actually a really good picture) and said, “Smile more often.  It’s a good look.”  Thank you, ma’am.  I fully intend to.

Actually looking forward to what 2010 has in store,

Jo’van

January 1, 2010
Categories: Quarterlife Crisis, Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: 1 Comment

Quarterlife Crisis: Old Soul (a.k.a. You’re Only 25?)

Again not all that related to the post but a song for my self-described alter ego. Mary J. Blige “Not Gon’ Cry”

(Plus, it’s just a great song.  While I’m sure it may happen, I hope to never write a post where this song is the best fit…)

In addition to being a late bloomer, I’m also what grandmas would call an old soul.  Despite my age and physical appearance, I’m thought to think (awkward but appropriate phrasing) and behave much like that of a more mature woman.  Jokingly, I’ve described myself as a 42-year-old bitter divorcee with two kids.  While I realize there’s nothing overtly comical about that scenario, I had to find a personality that encapsulated the wise-beyond-her-years, guarded heart, mother to all close to her traits I seem to embody.  So a 42-year-old bitter divorcee with two kids it is.  If you have any other suggestions, please let me know.  I realize I actually used that description on a first date.  While that was completely my fault for not really thinking before I spoke, I might just need a new line.  Luckily, he didn’t seem completely turned off.  Haha.  Oh well, too late now.  Plus, I believe he reads my blog…

If you asked any of my family or early teachers, you’d probably hear stories of a 6-year-old frustrating the mess out of you by being able to hold seemingly intelligent conversations with adults.  “Because I said so” would never have sufficed with me.  And please don’t try to give me some half-ass answer to a question.  If there was even the slightest possibility that I might have heard or, worse, read something to the contrary, you were probably in for a “discussion.”  Now, I was no child genius by any means.  I’ve just been told that I listened more than most kids and was able to put abstract things together faster.  (All the more reason for me not to necessarily want children.  I can’t imagine arguing with a 9-year-old me.  I’d probably want to strangle little me.  For the sake of my sanity and possibly the child’s safety, we’d both need the husband/father to be very compassionate and patient.  But that’s an entirely different post…)

My secondary and even post secondary education days weren’t much different.  While I had a great time with my friends, in the back of my mind, there was a feeling of difference from the larger group.  There was no superiority.  Just a sense of “I don’t get it.”  Now, to be clear, I didn’t feel alienated in any way.  When I was 8, I was 8.  When I was 13, I was 13.  There was just things I questioned more than some and less than others, I guess.  While I had a (potentially) violent temper, I spent less time experimenting and screwing up in high school.  I was more of the reserved kid who sat in the background and just watched everyone else do whatever.  (I hope not in a creepy way…)  I wasn’t above getting wasted and sleeping with 4 good guy friends.  (Ok, maybe I was but that’s not the point.  Those were just bad examples.)  They just didn’t sound like good ideas.  I watched people make their idiotic mistakes and took note NOT to do that.

I wasn’t a complete loser.  I made my bad choices and choices mistakes.  But unlike most people my age, I HAD to find ways to justify them.  I couldn’t just accept youthful indifference and regrettable but not all that impactful dumb choices.  In fact, my descriptions probably made me seem more cold and indifferent but that’s again probably an entirely different post.  Let’s just say that I did less living and probably more time judging.  Sounds pretty boring, huh?

Anyway, this mentality of “I know better.  I’m older than that” has carried with me.  Unless we’re in a social setting where I am surrounded by like-minded, like-aged people, it’s very rare that anyone correctly guess my age.  I’ve been aged by 3-8 years.  While I should be offended that anyone think I could possibly be 33 (I AM after all only 25!), I have to take into account two very important factors.

1.) Put simply: Black don’t Crack.  Black women (and men) are lucky to as a whole age well in comparison to other ethnic groups.  (Running second probably to only Asians.  But that’s debatable.)  I may look 33 now because of the way I dress, act, style my hair, apply my makeup, etc.  BUT there is also a high probability that as long as I take care of myself, I could look 33 when I’m 41.  If that’s the case, I’ll take it now.

And 2.) I simply don’t generally act the way people commonly expect 25-year-olds to act.  Yes, I like to go out, dance, sip on something, pretend I have no responsibilities.  BUT I recognize that I prefer to be the calm, observant one in the background.  I like the security of being (or at least appearing) in control of my words, actions and possibly even my destiny.  (Quite prolific actually.  However, please note I added “appearing” in control.  No one can really be in control.  But I’ll be damned if I don’t try.)

I’m not trying to put a negative label on mid-20-somethings but when people are shocked that I’m only 25, I’ve decided to only take that as a good thing.  Granted, they could just be saying I look old but since I disagree, if that’s what they mean, to hell with them and their opinions.  🙂  I’m only embracing the positive.  The older you get, the closer to 19/undergrad-ish 25 sounds.  I get that.  I am, however, no longer on that level.  I grew up quick (seemingly voluntarily) and have no desire to go back.  Although, every now and again, I’ll give in and have a Halloween Ho moment.  I am afterall only 25.  I’m allowed. Haha.

(I’ve got to do a little something every now again just to remind myself I am still young.  If I don’t, I’m afraid I might begin to regress out of rebellion about the time my physical age catches up with my mental.  I’m terrified I could end up one of those Mariah Carey-like (no offense, I really do love her) moms who dress like their teenage daughters.  That would not be a good look.  I can assure you.   Plus, Ricki Lake is the only one I’d want to give me a makeover and she’s off the air…)

In recent months, potential suitors, new “friends”, older, mature female co-workers, old professors/teachers, current friends, old friends and complete strangers have described me as mature, wise, poised, elegant, regal, favoring Michelle Obama, and “looking like someone people should know. A congresswoman perhaps.”  I sure have come a long way from Steve Urkel and you know what?  I’ll take it!

Sitting up a little straighter at her desk (granted, it’s a stability ball so I have little choice but that’s beside the point),

Jo’van

December 22, 2009
Categories: Quarterlife Crisis, Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: 1 Comment

Quarterlife Crisis: Young Professional

Timbaland featuring Justin Timberlake and Nelly Furtado “Give It to Me”

At 25 1/2, 3 1/2 years out of school, in the business arena, I am considered a young professional.  As a young professional, I am expected to dress and play the part.  But few people expect me to really know what I’m talking about.  It’s an interesting conundrum.  I’m being paid (entry-level pay, but pay nonetheless) to be a relative expert BUT most people consider me to be a younger/newer version simply regurgitating what someone more seasoned has already said.  And while it’s true that we all learn from the more experienced, that experience is relative to the topic and may be no more than a few months of experience.  In many cases, I may in fact be the expert but my familiarity with pop culture, ability to stay up all night and wrinkle-less face all largely discount anything I have to say.

I realize there’s little to nothing I can do about the perception.  My only options are to play the clueless-under-30 part OR calmly, consistently make my point in a non-defensive way.  The LAST way I want to be perceived is as a temper tantrum throwing 20-something.

But on the flip-side, how do you deal with the insecurities of agreeing sometimes you don’t know what you’re talking about or being asked?  No matter how much you think you know, someone’s always going to know more.  And even worse, someone else is going to know you don’t know.  What do you do then?  You have a handful of options but what I’ve found to work best is simply admitting your ignorance AND asking questions.  Both actions are very important.  Without the questions, you just appear dumb and indifferent.  By doing both, you appear interested.  As much as some people enjoy embarrassing you, more people enjoy telling/teaching you something, acting the expert.

A few suggestions for encouraging your career experts:

1.) Don’t assume to know anything you really don’t.  Deer in the headlights is a dead giveaway you’re trying too hard.  And sometimes signals it may not even be worth explaining to you.

2.) Don’t be afraid to ask questions.  No one’s an expert on everything.  Don’t assume you have to be.  Nobody likes a no-it-all.  Most conversations are teaching lessons.  Be open to being taught.

3.) Ask a few questions you already know the answer to.  After they’ve answered, you can explain it in a different way, making them feel they’ve taught you something AND signaling you’re intelligent enough to view things in different ways.  (This strategy also works well with professors you may be having a hard time with.)

4.) If the conversation is stalling, ask an open-ended “state” or “direction” of the industry question.  Most people love to share their opinions on what’s wrong and how THEY’D fix it.

5.) Follow-up with something intelligent.  Collect a business card (or at least  an email address) and follow-up with next steps, relevant articles, something.  Prove you were paying attention and worth staying in touch with.

Most importantly

6.) Do your job.  Whatever it is, you were hired for a reason.  Someone had faith in your abilities.  Don’t prove them wrong.  Because you have to remember the quality of the people they hire reflects directly on them.

Separately there’s nothing wrong with being young or a professional.  Together, however, they should just mean you’re good but the sky’s your limit.  I’ve got 45 years or so until retirement (if I’m lucky).  I can only hope I have a lot to learn.

Listening to Justin Timberlake while packing my suitcase,

Jo’van

December 10, 2009
Categories: Office Appropriate (Work Life), Quarterlife Crisis, Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: Leave a comment

Quarterlife Crisis: THEORetical Weekends

Not completely relevant but I’ve already used “She Works Hard for the Money”.  Enjoy Vanessa Williams’ “Work to Do”

Vodpod videos no longer available.

For nearly 3 1/2 years, I’ve had two jobs.  When I moved to Austin to accept an entry level position in the communications field, I was making less than 30K.  It was a respectable income but not feasible to cover my monthly bills, student loan, credit card debt and new car note.  So two months into the new gig, I went in search of part-time additional income.  In hindsight, making that decision should’ve been difficult but I thought it was only going to be for a year or so.  I was young, had no family, dog or other responsibilities.  I could handle it.

At a friend’s suggestion, I applied for a position with a high-end brand I’d never heard of.  Forgive me, oh fashionable ones, but I’d never heard of Theory.  I never lived in a city that had an independent store and Neiman and Saks were not (and still aren’t) stores I frequent.  I admittedly have a shopping problem.  But (before Theory) I shopped for style, comfort and price, not so much any of that WITH brand name.  Paying $60 for a pair of jeans that fit perfectly was unheard of, let alone $250 for a pair of dress pants.

Despite the high price-point and occassional entitled customer (refer to the Retail Etiquette post), I’ve loved my time at Theory.  I met some wonderful women (and a couple men), found a life outside of my 9-5, made an exta few hundred dollars every month and now my closet (sadly) is now probably 45% Theory.  I have a new appreciation for paying a little (or a lot, if not on sale) more for quality.  Although, I also recognize that not all things expensive are high quality.  Sometimes you just need a Hanes white tee.

Now what am I going to do?  For more than 3 years, I have not had weekends.  I mean they came around every week but I was still working.  Mon-Fri I was at a desk, writing press releases, calling media, monitoring news.  Sat-Sun, I trolled cement floors in a sparse retail store folding, straightening, helping half-naked customers in the fitting rooms and trying on clothes when we were slow.  While I rarely enjoyed a day off, the work was easy and the people were cool.

For the first 6 months, I didn’t do anything.  I was always afraid I’d be tired.  I DID have to work the next day afterall.  I worked every day.  After a while, though, I just gave up.  If I wanted to go out, I just went.  It’s not like I was going to have a day off.  So why not just claim the night and pay the price in the morning?  Plus, I wasn’t alone.  Weekends are weekends.  Since it was retail, the ladies I worked with might have had days off but they weren’t always the weekend.  I can’t even tell you how many times one or more of us came in hungover and/or exhausted.  It just became a running joke.  As long as you were able to do your job, what’s the harm?

Working 7 days a week is not for everyone.  And to be perfectly honest, I can’t say that it was for me.  While in high school, I remember working with a lady who had two jobs.  I thought she was crazy.  I mean I understood the need and/or desire for more money but two jobs just seemed so extreme.  She’d work nights and weekends.  Plus, she was a adult, probably had bills, had a son.  I was 17 and really didn’t understand.  However, after 3 1/2 years, I now get it.  You can do just about anything.  You just have to force yourself to start and treat it as a given in your life.  People always asked me why/how I could do it.  There was never a good answer.  I just did.  You just do.  (Plus, I got used to the additional income.  Over 3 years, my income increased by nearly 40%.  But those extra couple hundred every month were difficult to give up.  I told myself I could pay down my debt faster when in fact, I just maintained my debt and grew my closet. Tsk tsk.)

Since August 2006, 7 days a week was my schedule.  Now, after approaching burnout and finally putting in my notice, I’m officially done.  I clocked out on Sunday for the last time.  While I’m pretty strong and difficult, it was a little sad.  I think the pure exhaustin of the last few months has really caught up with me.  I hugged the ladies goodbye and enjoyed my going away cookie cake but I don’t think it’s completely hit me.  I imagine by February, my emotions will catch up and I’ll really be sad.  Until then, I’ll just have to figure out how to prevent my dog from waking me up on Saturday mornings so I can sleep in past 9 am.

Losing the excuse not to have a life outside of work.  Already missing the paychecks but expecting to spend less money,

Jo’van

December 1, 2009
Categories: Quarterlife Crisis, Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: 1 Comment

Quarterlife Crisis: Giving Up the (615)

Oh, young Luda.  Gotta love it.  This song doesn’t really apply but it came to mind so here you go!

A few weeks ago, I made one of the hardest decisions of this year.  (I’d say of my life but that would just be over-dramatic.)  Sure, getting a tattoo, cutting off my hair, accepting a new job, finally having “that” conversation with my roommate were all important and took guts.  BUT giving up the phone number I’ve had for nearly 8 years was a big deal.  Not only am I too lazy to remember another number (since 2001, it’d just rolled off the tongue) but getting this new number meant something more important: giving up the 615 area code.

I am originally from Nashville, TN.  While there are things about the city and region that I can’t stand (race relations, ignorance, allergens, men with grills, etc), Nashville is home.  Mother, grandmothers, childhood home, high school friends, familiar restaurants, great hairdresser, you know, all of the important things. 🙂  As a high school senior, there was nothing I wanted more than to get out of Nashville and Tennessee.  College (luckily) was never a question. I just knew that I was not staying  anywhere with a TN in the address.  So I told myself I’d go to whatever school gave me the best offer out-of-state.  I was blessed to be an above average student with high PSAT scores, from a middle-class family, a female and a minority.  For schools looking to offer “merit-based” scholarships, the combination doesn’t get much better.  I’m not foolish enough to deny that.  However, that could be an entirely different “Shades of Understanding” post.  In fact, the school I actually attended was the school that gave me the second best offer but that explanation deserves another “Shades of Understanding” post of its own.  In due time.  In due time.

Anyway, I attended Iowa State University.  For all accounts, it was a good school.  Like anywhere new, there were things that were less than ideal and just plain sad, but I met some wonderful people, received a good education and was given several wonderful, life-altering opportunities.  But obviously, Ames, IA was not home.  So I never changed my cell phone number.  I knew I wouldn’t be in Iowa for more than four years.  There was something rebellious about keeping my hometown phone number.  I WOULD NOT become a resident of Iowa.  Sure, it just made sense at that time to keep it.  TN was still a part of my permanent address and drivers license.  Holding onto that 615 wouldn’t really mean anything until I had a new permanent address.

3 1/2 years ago, I accepted a job offer in Austin, TX and moved.  Not everything has been perfect but it’s been good.  I don’t regret that move and have come to appreciate the city.  I still don’t know if Austin’s going to be home but until a new target city emerges, I’m perfectly content here.  Two months into my stay, I got a speeding ticket and had to get a TX license to qualify for defensive driving.  That was pretty painful but legally required.  Not having a real choice makes it easier to choose.  Since then, I’ve done pretty much all things Austin and Texas.  I’m still waiting to purchase my first pair of cowboy boots but give me time.  The one thing I hadn’t done was change my phone number.  Somehow 512 just didn’t sound as good as 615 to me.    8 years is a long time to have a relationship with anything.  In this digital age, your cell phone number and email address are really a part of your identity.  I preferred to remain identified with Tennessee.

So what made me finally give it up?  Money.  I wish it was something more poetic but it’s just not.  My new gig provides stipends for cell phones and smartphones if you agree to use them for business.  Seeing as I’d already put my work email on my Blackberry, I figured I should accept the stipend.  The amount is actually like 150% of my regular monthly bill.  Ok, I’ll take that.  I’ll make a little profit for doing what I was already planning to do.  The only issue was that since we’re an Austin-centric business, it only makes sense for employees receiving the stipend to have Austin numbers.  So save a little money or hold onto an area code that means nothing to anyone but you?  Ok. Don’t be stupid.

Sure, I’d had that number for almost a decade.  Yes, my grandmothers know the number.  Sure, you’d run the risk of losing touch with old friends.  (But then again if you were really that close, you’d find a way to get in touch.  I’ve had the same email address since 2001 also…)  But I’m also 25, have lived in Austin for more than 3 years and it’s makes financial sense to change.  Done.

I sent a mass text to the people in my phone that ended with something like “Please update my number or use this as an excuse to lose touch.”  I got some negative responses to that but that just means they were paying attention.  The people that didn’t respond were handed their way out. 🙂

Still struggling to remember my new number,

Jo’van

November 29, 2009
Categories: Quarterlife Crisis, Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: 1 Comment

Quarterlife Crisis: Halloween Ho

So this Halloween I did it.  I did what every judgemental woman and man loves to see on Halloween so they can feel justified in their judgement.  I fulfilled the stereotype of women who just want an excuse to be naked in public.  I looked like a Halloween Ho.  Please note I said looked like a Halloween Ho.  Actions would require an entirely different post.  I just dressed the part.

While I generally judge, I can’t really say anything against people deciding to be half-naked in public.  Do what you do.  It just provides me with more things to point and laugh at.  So as one of these perpetually judgemental people, why would I volunteer to be cold and naked in public at the end of October?

There’s not a good answer to that question.  Or at least there’s not one that sounds good.  To be perfectly honest, the situation simply presented itself.  Between feeling more confident in my body, caring (a little) less about what strangers think of me, enjoying the company of my friends, having flatter abs than ever and someone providing me with the outfit AND shoes, saying no just would’ve been stubborn.  Not wrong, just stubborn.  I never did the teenage/college Halloween Ho thing.  I’ve always been covered and warm.  For whatever reason,  the outfits never really caught my attention.  I mean of course I noticed that attention they did grab but somehow I was above all of that.  This year, I wasn’t above, below, beside, behind, or anything else.  I was indifferent and thought “what the hell?”

Any regrets? No, not really.  I could use the justification that I was more covered than I would be at a beach.  But that scenario is flawed because I wouldn’t be the only person in a bathing suit.  Dressing like a pirate wench with her chest elevated, abs exposed and boots covering 4 times as much skin as her skirt, I didn’t expect to see too many people looking like me.  And to make things even worse, we spent our evening on the “classy” side 6th street, the infamous bar area of Austin.  (Yes, there are other interesting/entertaining districts, but 6th street is well known.)  Instead of hanging out with the 19 year olds with fake IDs and more skin showing than clothes, I instead hung out with the “I’m too old east 6th but still want to get drunk at a bar downtown on Halloween” crowd.  The median age was probably a year or two older than me and the metabolisms had already begun to slow down.  We were past the “all I consume is beer and pizza and I’m still a size 4” times in our lives.  The gym or bigger clothes are our only options.

And to be perfectly honest, I was uncomfortable at first.  The outfit was borrowed but I was still the most naked of my group.  (In fact, the lady I borrowed the outfit from was fully covered this year.  That’s just not fair.)  I wasn’t ready to be judged the way I judge.  But some vampire vodka, supportive friends, and realization that I would probably never see any of the people who might judge me again helped me get over it.  Bare the abs, fishnet the legs, zip up the boots, gloss the lips and straighten the wig, I’m ready to go.

Blushing after a car full of men yelled “Captain Jack Sparrow”.  Thanks, guys.  Thanks.

Jo’van

 

Fishnet Bar Battlewounds

Bar Battlewounds

I’ve already picked my outfit for next year.  As long as I get my legs in shape, I’ll be in search of a crazy blond wig, a dress with more fringe than length and Hanes stockings.  Tina Turner here I come!

November 19, 2009
Categories: Quarterlife Crisis, Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: 3 Comments

Quarterlife Crisis: Meeting Me at the Airport

I’ve been traveling (and moping) a lot lately.  Wyclef Jean’s “Gone Till November”

To break the monotony of unemployment, I flew to both homes last month.  A week or so in Phoenix, a few days in Nashville, moms, dads, sisters, brothers, grandmas, friends, babies, bbq and lots of fresh fruit, a proper vacation.  Of course, everyone asked me how things were going and the like but everyone (except for my father) only asked once.  They pretended to accept my well-rehearsed, positive yet realistic response and let it drop.  Ah, family.  🙂

Because I’ve been moping around a lot lately, I’ve started to notice things that could be better but never really mattered before like someone being there to meet me at the airport.  Of course, when I’m traveling to see someone, family or friend, there’s always someone there to pick me up.  But they’re always in their cars.

I’ve traveled 4-6 times a year for the last 20 years of my life.  With parents on different sides of the country and later attending a university in another part of the country, flying has just been a part of what I do.  Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever flown to go on a vacation with my family, just to go see them.  I can distinctly remember thinking how cool it was to be taken care of by the stewardesses (oh excuse me, flight attendants), meeting the pilots, being able to push the attendant button for just about anything I needed.  When I was about 6, I remember there was this really sweet stewardess who let me help her serve the drinks.  That was when you always got a full can, not just poured glasses.  This really scruffy looking guy ordered something alcoholic and let ME keep the change.  I felt so special.  Haha.

Anyway, back in those days (and probably because I was a minor), people always met you at the gate.  My parents were always there and it felt special to be able to look for someone instead of just go collect your luggage.  When all of the rules changed, I was already a teenager and didn’t necessarily want my parents to meet me at the gate.  I enjoyed the sense of independence.  Plus, just meeting me outside is much easier for the people collecting me.  As long as we’ve got our cell phones, we’re golden.

However, these recent trips made me think about the feeling of being able to look for someone.  I always smile as I pass the security stations and see family and friends with signs welcoming home the soldiers, students, whatever.  The anxious boyfriends with flowers.  The mother/father with little kids straining to be the first one to see him/her.  It’s just so sweet.  Someone is that excited to welcome someone home.  (In fact, I can distinctly remember the last time someone met me at the airport.  It was in high school and a “boyfriend” wanted to see me.  He didn’t even drive me home because my mother had arranged to come pick me up.  He can just to see me.  How sweet…)

Now, I’m not saying that my family and friends aren’t excited to see me.  (At least, I’d like to believe they are.)  I just think we don’t feel the need to do more than the minimum.  We can hug in the car.  Catch up as we’re driving home.  When I pick people up at the airport, I don’t ever park and wait (unless their flight is running late and then I just wait in the parking lot).  We all just pull up to the curb nowadays.  What’s up with that?  Are our relationships not worth getting out of the car anymore?  The first 30 minutes are usually free.  It won’t necessarily have to cost us anything but the effort.  I can’t complain if I don’t step it up myself.  I just wonder if anyone else would care as much as I do…

Re-evaluating airport curbside service,

Jo’van

September 3, 2009
Categories: Quarterlife Crisis, Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: Leave a comment

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