All posts in: quarterlife crisis

boston
07 Mar 2011

Whose foods?

So a few months ago, the news broke that the quirky Hispanic grocery store in my neighborhood was closing, and a Whole Foods was moving on in.

This announcement created quite a stir in the community and in Boston in general. Google “Whole Foods” and “Jamaica Plain,” and check out the maelstrom of articles on the topic. Basically, the announcement and the closing was quick, the history of the Hi-Lo was rich, and everybody’s getting livid. There have been town meetings, protests, interviews, and activism galore.

Being that this is all happening literally around the corner from my apartment, my friends and I have been talking about how we feel about the situation, and I don’t even know where to begin.

The crux of the debate is this: the area I live in is somewhat low-income friendly and home to a large percentage of Hispanic residents. The Hi-Lo was a full-service type grocery store that was well-known for being well-stocked with out-of-country brands and obscure produce, and for being pretty cheap. So not only is the “takeover” offensive to the local-business-friendly JP residents, it’s offensive to those who think that these Hispanic residents are valuable members of the community and should be able to feed themselves and their families in an affordable manner. Jamaica Plain has been “gentrifying” over the years, I suppose, but the people that live here care about maintaining a diverse community, and want to make sure people aren’t booted out of town just because JP is getting too trendy, or whatever.

I totally agree with all of that.

Which is why I feel so conflicted about liking the idea of a Whole Foods moving in next door.

It’s making me think a lot about business and capitalism and all of that jazz, which is not really my expertise or anything, but here are my thoughts about the whole mess:

  • I’m wondering about what it means to be a valuable voice in your community. When people ask me how I feel about the whole debate, my first instinct is “I have no idea, I shouldn’t really say anything because my opinion doesn’t matter because I’ve only lived here for a year and a half. I love living in JP, but I’m a grad student. My permanent address is still in Michigan, for crying out loud, and staying here and growing roots isn’t in the plans right now.” Just because I feel transient, does that mean I have to act transient? I have a feeling that it would take me years and years and years to feel at home ANYWHERE…. and it doesn’t seem right to feel like I have to shut up until then if I have something to say, or to wish that my community would advocate for the needs of people like myself as well as the needs of residents who have lived here longer.

Not that I do have something to say, it just made me think about what authority I even have in this situation.

  • That being said, I am worried about rents rising. I can barely afford my apartment as it is, and after navigating the Boston realty scene for the last two years, I can totally see a Whole Foods within walking distance leading to 100-200 dollar/month raises in rents. And I guess this is a big part of the opposition to the store – if there was a virtually-identical, Whole-Foods wannabe store that moved into the space, especially one that was independently/locally owned, it wouldn’t show up on the realty radar, and I think the community would have embraced it. Instead, this Big Name store is moving in – rents for apartments and the other businesses around the area will go up and in this economy, maybe people will have to leave. That’s sad and does seem pretty unnecessary.
  • I’m not really convinced, however, that Whole Foods deserves to be villainized here. The owners of the store decided to sell – I doubt Whole Foods came in with guns to their heads and demanded a lease-transfer. They probably had reasons to sell. I’ve read that the store management was past-retirement age and their kids wanted nothing to do with running the store, so maybe they were looking for a way out already. It’s possible that whatever money Whole Foods offered the owners far surpassed any profits the Hi-Lo would ever bring in for the owners and managers, but there was still a choice made, and one that wasn’t malicious, just economic.

Maybe it’s my Michigan roots showing, but I posted this story on my Facebook awhile ago and one my pals replied with something like “Um. People are getting up in arms because a store closed and another store moved in? They need to take a trip to Detroit and quit whining.”

  • Do the people who are now getting up in arms about the loss of the Hi-Lo even shop at the Hi-Lo themselves? I ask this question because although I feel affectionate toward my local grocer, I never did any of my major shopping there. To me, the Hi-Lo was always heavy on junk-food type packaged-goods, produce that I don’t know how to cook or eat, and meat (I’m a sort-of vegetarian). The Hi-Lo was reserved for individual items that fell off the grocery list; and for things like sugar, butter, and mozzarella cheese, I was always surprised at how high the prices were.

I know that I’m not the only, or the predominant voice here, and that many, many people did rely on the Hi-Lo for their weekly shopping needs. But I also wonder about the other people who live in my neighborhood – should we have all gone to the Hi-Lo even though we would rather shop elsewhere, just for solidarity? Or is this a case of capitalist, supply and demand, where we simply demanded something that we couldn’t find at the Hi-Lo?

~

So I’m conflicted. But at the end of the day, I do truck it out to the Brighton Whole Foods every week to do my grocery shopping. I am a poor graduate student who should probably not be spending so much money at the grocery store, but that’s the choice my boyfriend and I made. We used to shop at Stop & Shop, but I found the prices similar, the selection limited, and the quality of meat/vegetables/baked goods lacking. According to this suggested spending chart written by the USDA that assumes the USDA’s suggested level of nutrition, Lance and I fall between the Low and Moderate Plans, and manage to spend much of that at Whole Foods.

It’s possible, though, that I’m selfish enough not to care about all the hubub just because when I forget to buy cat food and it’s after nine p.m. and Lance isn’t around to drive me across town….

yeah, that will be nice.

grad school
25 Feb 2011

the slippery slope of the caffeine addict

First, you are letting yourself have a second can of Diet Coke on some afternoons, to stave off or recover from a nap.

Then, you are feeling like you might die at 10:00 a.m., or like you might kill something… and you realize that you’d put off your Diet Coke, and once you have it, the world rights itself again.

And then, you are just getting up early, so you need a little pick-me-up, to go from Asleep to AWAKE!!!! with enough time to get your work done.

Then, you’re back to coffee every morning.

Then, you’re up to two shots of espresso every morning.

Then you’re up to two shots of espresso every morning, and an energy drink in the afternoon, occasionally, as a pick-me-up, on those long and draggy days, when you need to get things done.

And then, you’re just drinking it because… you can. And because it feels good. Until your heart starts to palpitate. And your pocketbook bleeds out on Starbucks. And you’re back on that dark, twisted spiral that leads you into the abyss….

boston
14 Feb 2011

lifted

Last semester was such a mess, it’s not surprising that I’m feeling comparatively chipper lately.

But I’m still not sure why.

Still working 30 hours a week.

Still taking 2 classes.

Still sticking to the same routines.

Maybe it’s because I’m finally feeling social and mobile, dancing around Boston, visiting friends, spending too much money, staying out late and being thoroughly 25 (or 21?).

Maybe that’s why I’m feeling so peppy?

Or maybe it’s because my boyfriend is growing a beard.

Mmmm…. yeah. Gotta be the beard.

grad school
21 Nov 2010

which begs the question

My life is more like a roller-coaster ride than a life, and I spend a lot of time trying to decide if I like it like this or if it is killing me.

I could go off on a string of roller-coaster-related analogies – climbing the tracks in anticipation, exhilarating terror at the fall off, the fact that I am about as lapsed religious as they come but whenever I’m standing in line at Cedar Point, I always say a little prayer for myself and for my sister, Betsy, who actually hasn’t been on a roller coaster with me in years, and my GOD what does THAT mean?

But I won’t. There are too many to choose from. You get the idea.

I don’t really remember the last time I had a day off without homework or certain-responsibility looming over my head, but I think that day was probably in August, and I was probably at my parents’ house. Although, visiting home comes with a startling long list of responsibilities of its own: people to see, teeth to be cleaned, hair to be cut. We spent a little over a week in the great state of Michigan, and I saw 2 friends and their families, spent 2 days in Lapeer, had 2 appointments, junked my car, got my cat spayed, went to a cross-country meet, and spent 2 days in Mansfield, Ohio.

Yes, one of those days was my last day off.

My life reached fervor pitch last June, when I found myself working 20 hours a week, taking a rigorous course taught my two of the smartest women who teach at my school, and hauling out to Somerville two days a week to a swanky internship.

And I survived, I really did. I picked up a lot of great survivalist habits, like camping out at Starbucks at 6 a.m. with my homework before launching into a 9-hour work/school day. And I learned lots of handy migraine fighting techniques along the way.

But somehow the overextended sprint turned into an overextended marathon. With two major assignments due last week, I found myself really questioning my ability to keep this up. What little time I wasn’t doing homework or reading or trying to write a g.d. novel, I was most likely weeping. All of the justifications I made for my choices started to dissolve. I had clearly packed my schedule to the brim not so I could be successful, but so I could be miserable. Maybe it was time to say “no.”

I thought about this all last week while I recovered from the previous week’s academic horror. I brainstormed ways that I could do more than survive next semester: I wanted to survive and also spend a little time not feeling like I would rather fall off the face of the earth than wake up in the morning.

And then, on Friday night, the roller coaster throws me another g.d. loop. Of course.

So I return to where I was last May, quietly contemplating the decision before me. That first internship, the one that hastily rejected me, has come a-calling.

And for those of you who question my capacity for idealism, I give you this: I still want to get in line for the stupid roller coaster. I’m saying a prayer for Betsy. I’m imagining that, somehow, with ingenuity and a schedule so carefully stacked it might crumble with a slight shift in the wind, I think I can do it and I think I can be happy doing it.

Which begs the question…

Weekly?

or

Daily?

It’s probably a bad sign if I want both, right?

life maintenance
26 Oct 2010

past presents

Dear Betsy,

What were you doing to that tree back there?

I am serious. This picture bothers me.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!

Your beloved sister,

Jessica

~

Dear Smaller Me,

I’m sorry your gymnastic dreams were crushed. Shortly after this picture was taken you grew. A lot. And also became quite uncoordinated.

And never again would you wear tights and a leotard out of the house.

Except for when you did Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat…

Theater doesn’t count.

Adieu,

Jessica

grad school
20 Oct 2010

thoughts on a semester

This semester is quietly sucking out my insides… just like every other semester of my life. It may be time to face a bitter, bitter truth: I love school, but school does not love me. I certainly get off on Going to Class, Taking Notes, Learning, Academic Conversing, Gathering of Questionably Great Ideas, and Canoodling With Literary Celebs, but school also sends me into a perfectionist tizzy. I read Penelope Trunk’s article last night and was fairly horrified.

Try having an opinion that is wrong. Tell a story that is stupid. Wear clothes that don’t match. Turn in a project that you can’t fully explain. People will not think you’re stupid. People will think you spent your time and energy doing something else — something that meant more to you.

weiorjowewjaewuuggrrrggghhh….

Anyway, I started to think about my pair of classes this semester. I have two most excellent professors who are both teaching highly inaccessible topics. Going to class is not difficult, but doing my homework is.

For one class, I get to digest stacks of articles on how to properly formulate and conduct research experiments that measure library use. Eight weeks in, I still have no idea what it means to “operationalize my terms.” I rewrote the problem statement for my semester-long mock-research project for a better grade, put some legitimate thought into it, made some changes, and got an extra .5 points. A pity .5 points.

For the other, I get to read once popular, now obscure, (always 600 pages…) children’s literature titles from the 19th century. Common plotlines so far include “I love my mother more than God! Waahh!”, “My father is punishing me for loving God more than him! Waahh!” and “Why can’t I read novels on the Sabbath? Waaaaaaahhh!!!” Finding anything to say in my papers other than “Wow, that book was bizarre” is surprisingly difficult.

But I’m still getting, largely, A-minuses. No, this former valedictorian is not an A student, she is an A-minus student. Thank you, sub-par public secondary education! However, despite my 18-years-and-counting proclivity for the A-minus, I always have this feeling that if only I could [fill in the blank with some random self-improvement], then I could get A’s.

I always enter each semester with the inarticulate goal to “Stay On Top of My Schoolwork,” but I have really no idea what that means on a practical level. Theoretically, “Staying on Top,” means “Maintaining Some Semblance of Control Over My Life,” but every semester, no matter how I play my cards, I end up partaking in the following behaviors that drive me out of my skin, send my muscles into recurrent migraine territory, send my energy levels to the ground:

– Starting papers the day before they are due.

– Coming home after work or school and collapsing onto the couch until I fall asleep.

– The Incredible Disappearing Weekend

– Coming to class without having completed the required reading and feeling like an idiot.

All of which have been regular behaviors this semester, no matter how much they induce the mania. Urgh.

But what bothers me most of all is that somewhere behind the mess of working and classes and vegging out on the couch, I don’t actually have time to do ANYTHING AT ALL. Nothing. Not my reading, not the kind of work that will get me that coveted A, and not anything at all that I typically find useful or entertaining or enlightening.

So I’m going out of my way to carve out chunks of time out of my day to just… be. I’m hoping this will a) improve personal morale b) increase productivity c) contribute to a sense of control over not just my day to day life, but my larger destiny.

In June, when I had 20 hours of work, 16 hours of internship, and 6 hours of class every week, I started waking up with Lance and having him drop me off at Starbucks in Brookline, or at the T so I could hop on the train and go to the Starbucks in Somerville. It was an act of desperation: the papers had to get written, and I discovered that I was more likely to work on them with two shots of espresso in hand, even if I had to hold them at 6:30 a.m. The habit followed me to this fall semester – before every large paper, it seems I’ve procrastinated enough to send me into desperation, and into Starbucks before the sun comes up.

But I’ve decided to reclaim the Early Morning at the Coffeeshop Habit for the forces of personal good. Instead of staying up until midnight with a paper only to revisit it six hours later, I’m launching a pre-emptive strike. On Wednesdays, when I only work 10:30 to 4:00, I can haul ass out of bed early enough to hitch a ride and then I can have a morning to myself to

a) Tackle that homework before it tackles back

b) Do something I don’t typically have time for, like spend an entire hour writing a really long, self-involved blog post!

So at least for a few hours a week, life is good.

And although I do miss my summer Somerville Starbucks, the Brookline Village location sure has more than its share of colorful clientele.

Today, I grasp at the edges of my manic life with help from a guardian angel.

quarterlife crisis
12 Oct 2010

it’s not you, it’s me. so very, very me.

I have had friends, in my life. But I mostly can’t handle it.

This picture was taken on my 21st birthday. I assumed I would go to a bar with Lance, maybe a roommate, and have a drink. Somewhere between Sunday afternoon and Sunday night, I had my boyfriend, my roommates, and a good portion of my a cappella group, all singing and dancing and buying me drinks all over the Oldies-Night dance floor.

I still can’t believe it, looking at this picture. How did that happen? I don’t have friends! Where did they all come from?

But that was college. College ended and my friends mostly stayed and I left and I mostly disappeared. I was happy to remove myself from a number of friend-based situations, I wouldn’t miss sitting at home thinking about whether I should invite myself to a party I knew some of my friends were going to but hadn’t invited me. I wouldn’t miss the stigma behind Sitting At Home and Doing Nothing. I was so happy to return to people (aka my family) who would join me in my Sitting and Nothing.

So I stopped wishing my college friends happy birthday on Facebook, lost my cell phone numbers and didn’t go out of my way to replace them, and after six years of daily AIMing, officially gave up on Instant Messager because it totally stressed me out. I spend most of my time with my favorite friends: my family.

I still have my friends from high school,

but without exception, they are all engaged or married, and they all have children.

Families.

Which is fine, which is great, I still love them and I wish I could see more of them and their adorable kids, but we’re just in different stages of our lives, you know?

I was excited to move to Boston, to meet more people who were in my stage of life. And I did! Grad school friends!

But there’s still a distance there, and it’s totally my own doing. We see each other once or twice a week, in class, before class, after class, and that seems fine to me. That seems like plenty of time to see your friend. And there is always work to be done – homework, housework, work-work – that precludes close friendship.

There’s not enough time in the day to make friends, basically. There is almost always an excuse not to hang out, not to go to this bar, not to go to this event.

I’m okay with this about 90% of the time.

But then I start looking at other people’s friendships and get jealous.

And I think about my future…

– When I get married, will I have ANYONE to invite to my wedding? Will anyone even WANT to come? (see 21st birthday anxiety)

– When I have kids, will I want my kids to grow up isolated from relationships with other adults just because *I’m* a social recluse?

– Wouldn’t it be nice to feel like you are part of a community, Jessica, of people your own age who help each other and support each other?

So I’m not actively seeking close friendship with peers… but am I also consciously rejecting it? I shut off my instant messager. I RSVP “no.” I smile and nod when you mention something fun you are doing instead of inviting myself along. I am always too sick to go out, always too broke, always too busy.

So I am always sitting just outside the circle.

And maybe that’s just the way it’s gonna be.

life maintenance
05 Oct 2010

curiouser and curiouser

There are so many strange things going on in this photograph.

Why does my dog have a leash on in the house?

Why did my parents have a fish in a strange, cylindrical jar? And how small does a fish have to be in order to live in such enclosed quarters?

Where, exactly, did my parents get that strange, gray, furry puppet and why was its name “Normal?”

Why do I remember the strange, gray, furry puppet’s name?

Is that a missing patch of carpet? Or was I playing with corrugated cardboard again?

Did my parents notice my misshapen, protruding ribs when I was a baby? Were they at all concerned?

When is that red dictionary going to fall apart?

And what season, exactly, necessitates THAT kind of outfit?

Mysteries…

books
22 Sep 2010

here’s the thing

Things I’ve Been Thinking About

I. Libraries

Is is too early for me to be TOTALLY jaded about my career? I’m researching young adult librarianship for a class assignment (topic chosen by me, based on my own interests), and I’m reading all this stuff about how libraries NEED young adult librarians and they are CRUCIAL to the fabric of the world and blah blah blah.

And instead of thinking “Oh, yeah, awesome, we are needed and loved and someday if enough people continue to need and love YA librarians, I can get a job!” I’m thinking: “Um. That’s baloney. There’s no research saying we need and love YA librarians, or that kids need librarians at all, and the people who are saying ‘Yay, librarians for kids!’ are either A) Librarians for Kids B) Authors of children’s lit C) Publishers of children’s lit or D) Pining for the fjords their idyllic youth. Why aren’t there designated librarians for 25-30 year-olds? 60-90 year-olds? (They probably use the library a whole lot more anyway!)

I am SUCH A CYNIC I CAN’T STAND MYSELF!

Also, I’m never going to be gainfully employed. It seems the only activity I’m morally comfortable with is opening the library’s doors and pointing patrons toward a bookshelf or computer.

II. Inward/Outward

I remember when I was a kid, 10, 11, 12 years old, I just really wanted to be nice.

I didn’t want to be popular or exemplary or talented or well-liked or funny or good at sports or music.

I just wanted people to talk about me and say, “Oh, Jessica? She’s a nice girl.”

I wonder when that stopped being my central thesis of life.

It was a little confusing though, because when I was at school, I was Nice Jessica, but at home, my parents seemed to think I was fairly rude, selfish, and uncooperative.

Also, my sister told me I was manipulative the other day.

Me? Manipulative?

Yes, I can usually figure out how to get what I want in life, but that doesn’t seem manipulative. Especially given that my sisters use all the same tricks I do: they just think I’m the manipulative one because I’m the one who taught them.

At exactly what point does one become TOO self-absorbed to function?

III. Fall

It’s here. It’s cold.

What do I do in fall, again?

Put away my flip-flops?

Buy cold-weather clothes?

Pick apples for applesauce?

Waffle over/get ready for NaNoWriMo?

Look at leaves?

I can’t remember.

IV. Books

I am disappointed, all around, by reading this year. I’m disappointed by my own lack of reading motivation, and by the books available for me to read.

The only books I crave are old favorites I haven’t re-read TOO many times, usually dispensed by my iPod via audiobook.

It doesn’t help when I have 500+ page, 6 lb obscure 19th Century novels assigned for class, distracting me from literary enjoyment.

V. My Cat

I have Mondays off this semester. I realized, last week, that I haven’t had a full weekday off to do as I please since late April.

And boy howdy did I miss cuddling with my lovely kitty.

She’s just so dang cute!

boston
16 Aug 2010

highway in the sky

I live in one of the most walkable cities in the US, a city that also boasts a slightly unreliable but mostly efficient public transportation system,

and I miss my car.

A lot.

I am that spoiled.

What’s worse is that I’ve never been a big driving person to begin with. I delayed getting my driver’s license in high school, and even after I did, I was the friend who everyone offered to pick up or drop off, because if they didn’t offer, I’d find some sneaky way to ask.

Also, I drove a 1983 Oldsmobile Omega that had a bad habit of losing the will to drive while idling at red lights and then refusing to restart for an hour or so. That might have had something to do with it.

And I didn’t buy my own car until I was almost 21, and I pretty much HAD to find one so I could get from my apartment to my classes. If I had moved to Appian Way rather than Deerfield Village, I wouldn’t have bothered.

But driving freely around the state and the country for 3.5 years really ruined me.

I miss NPR.

I miss buying drinks at gas station stores.

I miss blasting music and singing at the top of my lungs.

I miss having an extra sweater or hairband or pair of shoes or 75 cents stuffed in between the seats.

I miss road trips.

But most of all…

I miss being able to manage my extreme forgetfulness with a quick U-turn,

because on days such as today,

when I got up at 6 a.m.

so I could go to Starbucks for a few hours and work on a paper at my leisure,

and realize once my dear darling boyfriend has dropped me off,

that both the book upon which my paper should be written,

AND the extensive lunch I delicately packed, full of healthful snacks to get me from 6 a.m. to 7 p.m.

were both still in my apartment,

that U-Turn could have come in handy.

Alas, alack,

I am stuck

watching trains pull up and pull away at Brookline Village, waiting for one empty enough for one-more-person to squeeze on

(third time’s the charm!),

procrastinating on my homework, despite my best intentions,

and spending 10 dollars

at the lousy salad bar

again.

Car, I miss you. I hope to see you again, someday, in Auto Salvage Heaven.