Songs to Listen To Before A Job Interview

Job interviewing is stresssful. It’s scary. It’s awful. Here are some songs I listened to before my oral exam, which I am also going to listen to as I enter the interview office. Be aware that I am a theatre geek, so there are some showtunes:

“Ooh! Sigh! / Give her your attention / Do I really have to mention / she’s the one?”

“One [Finale]” from A Chorus Line

“You don’t know how beautiful / You don’t know how beautiful / You are…”

“Get On Your Boots” by, U2

(all instrumental but you can add in the “ROCKY!!! ANDRIANNNN!!!” here)

“The Final Bell” from Rocky

“Wind me up and watch me fly. / A regular sort of sunburned superman I. / Are you ready. / I can clime Everest. / Yes I can!”

“Yes I Can” by, Sammy Davis Jr

“I am seeking the courage I lack / The courage to serve them with reliance / Face my mistakes without defiance / Show them I’m worthy / And while I show them /
I’ll show me / So, let them bring on all their problems / I’ll do better than my best / I have confidence they’ll put me to the test / But I’ll make them see I have confidence in me”

“I Have Confidence” from The Sound Of Music

Any other suggestions? What peps you up before a job interview, oral exam, or presentation?

Boston Marathon 2013

I am not as eloquent in writing as Jen is, especially during times like this. But, I thought we should touch upon Monday’s incident. Since this blog is about our friendship, I thought I should mention what Boston means to us before I talk about the marathon.

To us Boston is about friendship. It is where we go to almost every time she visits family from Buffalo and where we have many great memories. Chinatown New Years Day celebrations, bubble tea in Cambridge, going to the Rocky Horror Picture Show… Those are just a few of the adventures Jen and I had in Boston. We both are raised in small-towns about an hour away. And before you ask, neither of us have Boston accents.

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I almost went to Boston on Monday to cheer on a college friend of ours who was running. However, due to certain situations I could not be there to cheer her on. I then got an alarming text from my sister, “Are you in Boston? Are you okay!?” She thought I was there. I learned Jen’s father was there, but was fine (working as a helper… toughest and coolest MA state trooper ever!) I then immediately think of our friend, Grace Kennedy, who was running for the Dana-Farber Marathon Challenge. I was worried about her and wishing I was actually there in the chaos to know if she was okay. Of course, I texted her. No response. And, all social media hit. I finally decided to call her and when I heard her voice and that she was okay, I felt this overwhelming release of tension and told her to stay safe. I updated my Facebook and Twitter to tell everyone who knows her that she was okay. My heart still wrenched for the victims. So, I did some gardening and continued to listen to the news on the radio. As I heard about the losses, injuries, fears, and terrors my heart just poured and poured.

Boston to me is not the city of Red Sox games, delicious clam chowder, or where I saw U2 in concert and got to grab Bono’s hand. It is to me, a city of friendship and community. Every summer, my mom and I make a trip to Boston together before she goes back to teaching first grade. My sister and I have done segway tours in Boston. I grew up seeing musicals in Boston. It’s a city that, for me, has many great memories. Some of them are among the greatest.

And, when I saw the news, despite the chaos and terrorism, I still saw that sense of community that Boston gave to me. People helping each other. It reminds me of my favorite quote from The Merchant of Venice, where Portia says, “How far that little candle throws his beams! / So shines a good deed in a naughty world”. Runners going an extra two miles to donate blood. It’s incredible how amazing people can be, and how great the spirit of Boston is.

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It really shows that yes, there are awful people in the world. However, that does not mean the human condition is awful. Despite the fact there is one rotten apple on a tree does not mean all the fruit is rotten. Look at all the people who posted concern online for their friends. Look at the runners and why they ran (like Grace). Look at the runners who either kept running to help others or stopped to help those around them. To add to kindness, you can help, even if it is with a little prayer. Here are some ways you can reach out to Boston:

Help federal investigators: Email any photos or videos you have of Boylston Street during the Marathon to boston@ic.fbi.gov

Donate to the Boston First Responders Fund The fund is being administered through the Boston Fire Fighters Credit Union, 60 Hallet St., Dorchester, MA 02124. Checks and electronic donations are welcome. Visit http://www.bosfirecu.com or call 857-220-0133. All of the funds collected will go to the victims of the attack.

Donate blood to The Red Cross.

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Forgot to take my picture of myself before or after my little jog this morning. Here is my support! #RunForBoston

Boston, You’re My Home

My sister Katie and I have talked about how strange it is to live outside of Massachusetts on Marathon Monday; sure, the Boston Marathon always gets a lot of media coverage as the oldest marathon in the country, one that is on many people’s bucket lists, but there’s a special atmosphere from everyone being home on the state-wide holiday, a special awareness of the enormity of the race, especially when you live along the marathon route. I live in Buffalo, so no one was really talking about Marathon Monday… until I started seeing messages popping up on Facebook.

Oh my God.

This is horrible.

Please, let everyone in Boston be okay.

In a panic, I checked the NBC website and my heart dropped; two bombs had exploded at the finish line, injuries and possibly deaths were reported.

Oh God.

My dad is a Massachusetts State Trooper and for the past 30-some-odd years, he has been in Boston on Marathon Monday, providing the city with extra security as a member of the SERT team, which specializes in crowd control. Thankfully, I saw Katie’s message that our dad was fine, then got a call from my mom– he was actually heading home after hours on his feet, but he turned right around and spent another shift in Boston to help in the aftermath of the attack.

A fellow Assumption graduate and good friend of Heidi’s was running the marathon this year. Thankfully, she is okay too–she was one of the hundreds of runners still on the course.

But like everyone else, I’ve seen the pictures, the blood in the street. People have lost their legs and there are three families that will never be whole again after the deaths of their loved ones. And, worst of all, there will be yet another too-small coffin, the death of an 8 year old child, waiting for his father at the finish line, at the end of a mile dedicated to the little kids who were massacred this past December in the Sandy Hook shooting.

This morning, I read the remarks of one veteran in the crowd on Boylston Street, who witnessed the bombings. He said that it was like being back in a war zone, and that struck me– bombings, shootings, abductions and other horrors occur every day in some parts of the world. These incidents are isolated and shocking in America, but they are part of daily life in Afghanistan, Iraq, Somalia, Sudan.

I’m not trying to make a political statement here, just sadly observing the fact that there is a lot of violence in this world.  My heart goes out to all the victims, the ones in Boston and the ones across the world whose names and faces I may never know, but who are suffering all the same. And I thank the ones who rush out to combat the violence and dedicate their lives to protecting and serving the community.

Dyngus Day!

I’ve lived in Buffalo for nearly three years now, but this year was the first time I was ever able to attend Dyngus Day. Buffalo has a very large Polish American population, and one of the biggest Dyngus Day celebrations in the US. I’m part Polish and I was excited to celebrate with what my dad would call “my homies.”

Traditionally, Dyngus Day is an all-you-can-eat feast on the day after Easter, celebrating the end of Lenten restrictions and somberness and extending the joyful vibe of Easter. It’s a uniquely Polish-American celebration that started among immigrant groups in the early 20th century. Buffalo has become the Dyngus Day capital of the world, attracting visitors from all over the US, Canada, and yes, even Poland!

Jarrod and I started off Dyngus Day at the Broadway Market, which was surprisingly quiet. This funny sign on the front door; apparently, Anderson Cooper made fun of Dyngus Day last year, so in response, the city of Buffalo invted him to this year’s Dyngus Day parade and crowned him the Pussywillow Prince. Anderson declined his invitation, so now there are signs like this all over the city, calling him “Party Pooper Cooper.”

(You’re still the Pussywillow Prince, even if you don’t want to be)

I got some pierogi for lunch, and then we then walked around the neighborhood. There was some sort of polka thing going on in the Corpus Christi function hall, but I was a little hesitant to go into a crowded room where I was very likely to be splashed with beer just before I went to work, so instead we looked at some of the floats getting ready for the parade:

I didn’t get a picture, but a lot of people were in traditional Polish costumes.

Unfortunately, I had to miss the parade, but we did get to the main festival site. In typical Buffalo fashion, it was an old, decrepit and abandoned factory complex.

But, the spirit of Dyngus Day transformed this barren landscape into a party! There was a polka band, a food tent, a beer tent and a liquor tent (yes, two alcohol tents).

(If I had the chance, I’d ask the world to dance, and I’ll polka with myself oh oh oh oh)

 

Clearly, the party hadn’t really gotten started yet; things usually pick up after the parade, but it was still a unique cultural event that blends both Old World traditions and Polish immigrant culture. Most of Buffalo’s Polish population immigrated around the time that my great grandparents did– in the early 20th century, at a time when Poland did not exist politically. A Polish diaspora identity strengthened over the years. For the most part, these immigrant communities were centered around churches. Buffalo’s historically Polish neighborhood has several Polish churches, each catering to a particular city or province of Poland. This population has dispersed over the decades, and moved into the suburbs of Cheektowaga and Depew. Buffalo is a very segregated city, and the east side is largely African American, Middle Eastern and South Asian. Polish flags were everywhere on Dyngus Day, but it’s a misnomer to call this section of the city Polonia, even if that’s the historical heritage– there’s also a Mosque around the corner from Corpus Christi and a halaal restaurant down the street from the Broadway Market, where many of the employees, vendors, patrons and residents of the neighborhood are African American.

I hope to attend more cultural festivals in Buffalo this spring and summer–there’s a lot going on in this city, even if it isn’t widely advertised. From Old World immigrant turned 3rd or 4th generation communities like Buffalo’s Polonia to the city’s growing Vietnamese and Chinese populations, there’s a lot to discover and learn about different cultures and how they come together and redefine themselves in a new environment.

It’s Been A While

Hi again…. I realize that I haven’t posted in a long time. I feel like I’ve reached a caesura and I’m waiting for the right time to begin the second half of the line, waiting for things to clarify and come to fruition. I’ve let my writing fall into a period of silence as well as I get things sorted out. I’m in one of those weird transitional periods where I feel like things are starting to shift and change, but it’s too early to tell exactly what is changing and how.

I’ve started creative writing again, somewhat accidentally, impulsively. I wrote this bit recently about aging (I’ve been reading Beckett again. I think the influence is obvious):

One day, it will be noticeable, this feeling of aging and diminishing and fading. One day, a shock of white hair will appear, all at once. A youthful face is suddenly wizened and pale, a voice now quaky and feeble, as thoughts fade into oblivion just before they reach the threshold of consciousness. These phantom thoughts will plague you–your shaking, wrinkled hands couldn’t grip them quite fast enough, your dim eyes couldn’t perceive their subtle outlines before they slipped into the shadows. Gone forever. Though you’ll never know what you missed, you mourn it–the thought itself is unimportant, coincidental. Certainly you weren’t conceiving some great, world-changing thought, it could have been a mundane item on a to-do list for all you know. But it’s the knowledge that you don’t know, it’s the fear that you’re losing your acuity and vigor, it’s the feeling of a burial shroud creeping closer about your senses–that is troubling. That is what brings tears to your foggy eyes. You mourn the distance from life itself, the interference of this screen around your whole being. Neither foot is in the grave exactly, but the eyes are–perhaps. The eyes go first. Or maybe the ears, the sounds of life muffled from the thin netting closing around you.

I read that over again and when I compared the first sentence to the last, I was like:

I find myself writing paragraphs like this more often–taking the strange thoughts and flashes of images in my mind and translating them into dreamlike passages that are disconnected from any discernible story. Maybe there’s a story there. I’m not sure. I don’t always return to them. But I enjoy writing like this again. Perhaps one of those shifts that I feel coming on is going to be an explosion of creative activity.

Well, this post has been rambling and weird enough so I’ll stop here. Anyone else unexpectedly write flash fiction?

Hello Spring

Despite the fact that we got a snow storm yesterday that postponed my licensing oral exam that I have been preparing for since January, it is spring! And, for all you tea lovers out there, I decided to make a tea in favor of springtime goodness.

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Hello Spring Tea

This tea is sweet, floral, and woodsy. It has a hint of everything spring in it. Also, pu reh dante tea and green tea is great for weight loss. So it will help those who want to shed some winter weight from hibernation. You can get it in a box as well as in a patch. It will be just like walking through a spring garden. So, I hope you enjoy spring and welcome it into your heart. Spring is a great time for new beginnings and maybe becoming a tea drinker will be a new thing for you.

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Thank you Pinterest!

I decided rather then just pinning the stuff on Pinterest to give some of them a try. So far I have done a few recipes and now I moved onto gifts. I decided yesterday, since I was bored, to make my boyfriend a gift. So, here is the cup I made on Pinterest and the directions how to make it (if you do not have Pinterest). Since Steven and I are both obsessed with tea I decided to make teacups for us.

What I learned from Pinterest: All you need to do is have a few Sharpies, get a few white cups from the dollar store, and doodle! After you are done with your doodles you put them in the oven for 30 minutes at 350F. These are the ones I made.

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What they did not tell you on Pinterest: Remember to check for stickers. On mine, the stickers burnt off but the house smelled AWFUL and I had to put on a few candles.

Steven and I are also obsessed with Adagio Tea. I love this website and making my own blends (my most popular is one based off of Harley Quinn from Batman.) Here is the blend I made for Steven for Valentine’s Day!

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Uglies Series: What would you sacrifice for the perfect look?

I love science fiction! I love dystopian plots! I love social commentary! I love youth-subculture! Bring on the Uglies series by Scott Westerfield!

ugliesIt seems that the entire “In a dystopian universe…” plot is taking over the young adult reader bookshelf. However, this book came out long before The Hunger Games. The Uglies series is best described as a dystopian Beverly Hills-like future where all sixteen year olds who are dubbed as “Uglies” are transformed through cosmetic surgery to become, well, pretty.

Tally goes through a journey of many extreme outward changes. She is that girl who starts out as an awkward wanna-be popular geek (an ugly), and then becomes popular (or a “bubble-headed” pretty), and then becomes a goth (a super scary icy special). A lot of young girls could see themselves through her. They can relate to her changes and her regrets. Her constant changed identity. And this book has the predictable “inner beauty” and “stay true to yourself” message. But, I like that in a young adult book. Tally is a far better role model then Bella from “Twilight”. She is one who makes mistakes and makes many sacrifices to change those mistakes. She is human and the perfect protagonist for any dystopian novel.

I really enjoyed this book and loved all the series. I am currently reading the manga-like comic book “Shay’s Story” to see the entire story through her eyes. I do love the series. And even though you will see the word “bubbly” many times, there is very few things “bubbly” about this deep and dark young-adult story.

Images used in the novel: cliques, cosmetic surgery, cutting, etiology, dystopia, environmentalism  medical ethics, social status, self-perception, equality.

Heidi the HSP.

Hello! My name is Heidi and I am a HSP! Like my fellow co-blogger Jen-Jaw, I too have a lot of emotions.

Remember that weird three-year old that was afraid of certain television shows for the noise or the bright lights? Or that girl in high-school who shut down completely when she saw someone give a dirty look to another student? After college, I had an “exit plan” in case if I got too tired from a social gathering or get-together (don’t take it personally!) Just recently, my boyfriend and I had to get rid of our Christmas tree and I was hugging it and telling it how much I missed it. That’s me! I am a HSP.

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What is a HSP?

According to Dr. Aron

“Highly Sensitive People have an uncommonly sensitive nervous system – a normal occurrence, according to Aron. “About 15 to 20 percent of the population have this trait. It means you are aware of subtleties in your surroundings, a great advantage in many situations. It also means you are more easily overwhelmed when you have been out in a highly stimulating environment for too long, bombarded by sights and sounds until you are exhausted.” An HSP herself, Aron reassures other Highly Sensitives that they are quite normal. Their trait is not a flaw or a syndrome, nor is it a reason to brag. It is an asset they can learn to use and protect.”

How did I discover that I was a HSP?

During college, my parents were going through a divorce and I was a little “lost” as most young college students are. Rather I decided to see the school’s counseling center. I told the counselor how I grew up always a little nervous, in high-school hating certain social setting likes clubs or dances because of the tightness of space. I simply said, “I do not know what was going on but there was too much at once!” The counselor nodded and smiled saying, “Those kind of situations have a lot going on. Smells, sounds, sights. It must have been overwhelming?” The counselor asked me, “Do you think you are just wired differently?” My heart stopped, “Do you think I have a disability or something?”

“Oh no,” she responded. “But I do think you are a HSP.”

And, that was the first time I heard the term HSP. I have been called many things that have hit a nerve to me and regarded my emotions. Overwhleming. Anxious. Intense. Passive. Shy. Sensitive. Weird. Different. Hermit. But, never a HSP. I taught myself to hide many of my overwhelming emotions. And, even found theatre, performing, singing, and drama as my only outlet to express those emotions as I was masked as a different person. It helped me when my emotions seemed to overeat me.

“A lot of people who are HSP are often misdiagnosed with internalized ADHD or a social disorder. And people who are HSP usually misdiagnose themselves.”

“Oh?”

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The HSP Counselor Discovering Her Gift

And, then I stared researching about HSP. Not knowing how it would really impact on my talent or career.

Let’s fast forward to me at my internship now. I was currently entrusted to fill in for a professional guidance counselor, even before I had my license and the full training. I find myself loving the work but after some days so exhausted. Like I just finished the Boston Marathon. I had to meet with my practice coordinator at school to cover some information. During this meeting she said, “You can emotionally see the whole picture and not just the little things? I’m amazed. And, I see it in your journals.” I responded, without thinking, “I think it’s my sociology major from undergrad that taught me that…”

“No Heidi. I think you have a gift.”

A gift? Being a HSP is a gift? I later told my good friend about this story and she said, “I always saw you as intellectually sensitive.”

Is my HSP a “superpower” that makes me do the incredible? Like Sailor Moon discovering that she can throw a tiara to defeat the villain or Superman discovering his strength? At that moment I found that my HSP-ness has directed me to my calling as a school guidance counselor. It’s not something to define myself, but it is nice to know.

Don’t let the “HSP” label limit you

I think sometimes these “labels” are like a Swiss Army Knife (like social networking). It’s a tool that could help or hurt. Knowing that I am a HSP and using coping skills to it helps me. However, if I use the label to define myself or prevent myself from doing certain things then it becomes a self-fulfilling prophesy that could later prevent me to grow. HSPs need to learn how to work with their emotions and use them for the better. And, they need to use coping skills to grow, not just as a HSP, but as an overall individual. HSP’s are gifted and special people and are often very emotional intellectual.

If you think “emotional intelligence” is hogwash please read this article.

A Message To Society

Wait! Wait! Wait! Doesn’t our society think that emotions and sensitivity is NOT intellectual? Doesn’t Freud tell us to repress our id with an ego or super-ego? Shouldn’t reason take the driver seat while emotion is tied up in the trunk? Believe it or not society there is emotional intelligence. And, even though I knew this, I never really gave myself credit for it. I knew that emotions were important to pay attention to and mental health. After all, physical pain can only heart at one place at a time because our brain’s limitation to only send one signal at a time for pain. On the other hand, mental pain could hurt at multiple zones all at once. Mental health, emotional management, and emotional awareness is important. It is important to teach parents how to work with sensitive children because it is innate, just like their eye color or hair color.

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Touchy Subject

The other day, my sister posted some information on Facebook about highly sensitive children, remarking on how well it describes her older daughter. I have always recognized a lot of myself in my niece, and reading the information my sister posted, I recognized a great deal of my younger self in the descriptions of highly sensitive children. I am not one to “diagnose” myself, but on the self-test for highly sensitive people, I scored very high and a lot of the information just immediately clicked with me and illuminated some of the things I struggle to comprehend about myself. I am not an expert at all on this; I’m only beginning to learn what high sensitivity is, and I’m not offering any advice. Heidi would be the person to ask any specific questions; she has studied this and knows much more about it than me. I’m just writing here to share my experiences.

(That’s the short version if you don’t want to read through my nonsensical and self-indulgent ramblings)

I’m touchy, I’m excessively emotional, I’m too sensitive, I need to suck it up and get over myself– these thoughts have plagued me for most of my life and my environment and those around me often affirmed the feeling that I couldn’t control myself like everyone else. Well, that wasn’t exactly the problem; it wasn’t that I lacked self-control over emotions that others managed effectively, it was that I often felt things that others didn’t. Books have always affected me very strongly and, I think, this is part of why I have devoted so many years to studying literature. I remember sobbing over the ending of the book Stone Fox, in second grade, and mourning the death of the dog in the story like he was real. In ninth grade, when I read To Kill a Mockingbird and reached the part when Scout realizes that Boo Radley had saved her and wasn’t a monster after all, I remember wiping away tears in embarrassment, wondering why I identified so strongly with Boo and why no one else seemed affected by this section at all. Little did I know, these are traits of highly sensitive people, an estimated 20% of the population. That’s a significant portion, but a lot of highly sensitive people feel very alone and strange. Our culture does not value emotional intensity, and often portrays these traits as neuroticism. For girls and women especially, I think there are a lot of pressure not to be overly emotional; I often water down my feelings because I’m afraid of being seen as a drama queen or hystrionic. I am extremely uncomfortable with attention (I know, it seems hypocrticial to be exposing all of this on a public blog and I’m very self-conscious of the possibility of this being read as a ploy for sympathy), so that leads me to try to hide my emotions and rationalize them away; I spent my fair share of time crying in the bathroom and pretending like I had allergies to avoid scrutiny and having to explain what was going on. It wasn’t always sadness, sometimes just intensity. I recognized this tendency in my niece and understood; she feels life very deeply and it’s often difficult for a six-year-old to parse out exactly what those nuanced emotions are. And so they come out as tears.

Highly sensitive people are prone to feeling shame and, as a result, are often very conscientious and diligent. I hold myself to a very strict ethical guideline and I fear hurting others or doing the wrong thing. Levinas’ system of ethics resonates strongly with me; he writes that we have a moral obligation to answer the needs of the other, yet those needs are impossible to fulfill and conflict with the needs of oneself and others. The result is that, in every choice and decision, you are bound to be an ethical failure. One of my favorite quotes is from Samuel Beckett’s short story Worstward Ho: “Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.” This is how I feel much of the time–no matter what I do, it is never enough, and I can only try to fail better next time. While harsh, this mindset prevents me from being overly impressed with myself and keeps my accomplishments in perspective; I can always, always do more, improve, push harder, and try better. Guilt and shame can be burdensome to live with at all times, though, and I try to manage those feelings so I don’t end up bitter and slip into self-loathing. I think that’s probably a common danger for sensitive people. I see it in my niece; she can be very hard on herself and takes things to heart.

Another interesting trait that I learned was that highly sensitive people are often good with animals. I’ve written about this before, but I’ve always felt a very strong connection to nature and animals. Sensitive people also have stronger sensory reactions. I don’t want to ramble too much here, especially since I don’t have any expertise and this post is starting to feel like “read all about how I’m such a special snowflake,” so I’ll stop here. I just found it interesting to read about and it resonated with my experience. Despite my skepticism of personality tests, I do find them interesting and worth considering in the quest for greater self-knowledge. I think if we learn more about ourselves, we are better able to respond to the needs of others and deepen our experience of the world. I’m always critical and hesitant to fully identify with a diagnosis or personality type, because I find that very limiting, and I try not to be too self-centered so I shy away from discussing these sorts of things too much, but after reading a bit about highly sensitive people, I’m starting to see the value in discussing these personality traits more openly, so that others don’t feel alone or ashamed of feeling life a bit more intensely than others.

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