Following Through

I wrote that last post in February of last year but chose not to publish in the midst of some new movements in the work world. I was right about to start a completely new endeavor as an Associate Producer on a low budget feature film, and I didn't want to publicize any wavering commitment to the project or my newfound colleagues. We shot through March. It was a great experience, full of new people, new situations, a new headspace. And it jumpstarted a period of productivity I hadn't had in a long time.

2014 was the first year I was a real freelancer. I didn't apply for unemployment even once; I had fairly steady work. It felt good, to be sure. I didn't completely hate New York for the first time in two years. There was a moment at the end of June, when I'd finished all of the jobs I had going, when I finally looked around and had nothing to do for the first time in six months. It was a nice breather before the panic set in: am I a freelancer in a lull, or am I unemployed? Is this it for me, six months of good work and then I'm done? But fortunately by the end of July, I had another couple jobs come in. And that was an even more fantastic feeling.

Not that any of this is has been lucrative by any means. I miss my salary so much. Even a low salary is something, and it's something stable. None of this "we'll wait until the 30th day of the 30 days you gave us to pay you" bullshit. Last year I made a little more than half of what I was making at the University, and then there's that pesky little thing called taxes, which I'm not looking forward to for the first time ever. But hey, the most important thing here is that things were looking up in 2014, and was I happy. Right? Not so fast.

The steadier work got (and man, was I thankful for that!), the more I cared what I was working on. What I'd written in February kept nagging away in the background: I'm not feeling fulfilled, there is a disconnect here. For jobs on which I was just the editor, I could engage with the content only very little. I missed thinking about the content and actively getting a worthwhile message across. My work with the American Museum of Natural History has been a godsend in this regard. They have so many great things going on there, and I'm really happy and always grateful to be a part of what they're doing and the messages they're sending to the public.

And working in close proximity to education again has helped me solidify my decision to apply to grad school. After talking about it for a year, I finally submitted my applications to three great schools. And after batting around multiple ideas about how to best approach my interest in psychology, I finally found the most amazing program I didn't even know I was looking for: a cognitive studies in education program that specifically explores how we learn and how such knowledge can be applied to other topics, such as media. Sesame Street may not be so far away after all. I find out in March.

Another Year, Another Imminent Thanksgiving

This weekend I went to two different birthday parties where two of my friends were turning 27. You know what's weird? I remember my mom's 27th birthday party. I was 5.

My parents got married at 21 and 20 years old. They're not terrible people by any means (well...), but there are some things that don't need repeating, so in some respects I want to take their model and set it on its head. When I turned 21, I said to my friends, alright, all I have to do is not get married. Should be pretty simple. It was. Check. My mom had me when she was 22. Out of the question. On my 22nd birthday, I told my friends, alright, all I have to do is not get preggers. A little bit riskier, a tad harder than last year's goal, but certainly doable. I passed with flying colors. With those two hurdles cleared, each subsequent birthday diverges more and more from the model. In a month I turn 25. I was 3 years old, reading, and almost off to preschool by this point in my mom's life. At 25, my mom had 2 kids and was on her way to the third, so as long as I don't have twins or triplets in the next year, I'll be golden.

But seriously, though, I'm getting to an age where I not only existed but actually remember existing when my parents were at the very same point. So many things are becoming clearer, so many of their choices demystified, so much of our financial woes justified. As much as I joke about not wanting to follow in my parents' footsteps, I have to give them mad kudos for raising me and my siblings, maintaining a home for us, sending us to private schools, etc. I certainly couldn't have done it. Imagining me sending a kid off to school every morning in the next year of my life seems beyond belief.

When I was younger, I always wanted to be the young mom who had a lot of energy for her kids and was still very much in touch with her younger years, like my mom was for me. As I grew older I realized how ridiculous that was, how different my circumstances had to be, and how insane it was for my parents to have found each other ready and willing to go forward with such a life, fully believing that they would succeed. (Together they lovingly dreamed of having 10 kids! WTF. Imagining having a similar conversation with SM is laughable on many levels.) And succeed they did (for the most part). They raised 6 great, smart, mostly obedient kids with very little money, many hard times, but always high expectations. They both had guts and determination and instinct that I will be lucky to ever possess. As Thanksgiving approaches, I am so grateful that they did so well for all of us. And I'm grateful I don't have kids.