Category Archives: Guest Bloggers

Bird Nerd.

Posted on July 13, 2012 | Leave a comment

About the Author: Joceline spent an idyllic summer with Ashley at Blandy Experimental Farm for an ecology internship where they frolicked amid the farmhouses and the tick-infested fields–you don’t bond harder than when you pull ticks out of someone’s scalp.  Ashley is a hardcore birder, 6′ tall (and looks damn good in a maxi dress), vegetarian so that she doesn’t have to eat birds, and lover of all things environmental science.  The best anecdote I have (well, one of the best) is the time she made us all leave a party so we could sneak up to a barn and check out the barn owl in its nest.

Last weekend I was wandering around Philadelphia with a few friends that had recently moved to the city. As we were strolling through the historic district, pigging out on ice cream, and people watching (or as Joceline would more fondly call it: creeping), a more interesting subject caught my eye—err—ear.  The sound I heard was a short, simple song. Rising in a buzzy trill and ending with a sharp, separate note. I had stumbled upon a Northern Parula. In the city of Philadelphia. In late May. Naturally, I freaked out, pointed him out to all my friends, who of course had no idea what I was talking about, and rightfully so. I’m sure it’s hard to understand a person who is stammering, “WARBLERLATEMIGRATIONSTOPOVERSITEINTHECITYOMGOMGOMG.” I’m used to this reaction.

http://www.lilibirds.com/gallery2/d/2362-3/northern_parula.jpg

Northern Parula lifted off Google Images. I’m sure this kind of thing is like porn to Ashley.

Looking back on my non-birding days I fondly recall getting excited over cardinals and jays. Seeing a hawk was alright, and seeing a group of vultures circling in the sky obviously meant they were flying over a dead animal of some kind on the ground below (a common misconception). It was easy to assume that there were clearly only a few species of birds (doves, that old owl from Winnie the Pooh, those weird oily-looking birds in parking lots, annoying SEAgulls*) worth my bird-brained attention span (please bear with me on the puns).

It wasn’t until my third year of college until I got schooled. After much frustration in my vertebrate biology class, a very patient professor of mine pointed out simple tips for me to help identify birds (being a biology major is awesome…we had bird ID quizzes every week. I know, you’re jealous.) He pointed out that the American Goldfinch said “Potato chip, potato chip” when it flew. A Warbling Vireo cried “If I sees you I will seize you and I will squeeze you ‘til you squirt!” And my personal favorite: a Barred Owl hooting in a lovelorn stupor “Who cooks for you, who cooks for you alllll!”

Bird in hand, in her element.

Birding wasn’t about being able to pick apart a Wood Thrush from a Veery anymore. It was about understanding a foreign language with hundreds of different dialects. It was about interpreting fascinating behaviors. It was about discovering new species I hadn’t seen before (enter my Life List). It was about swapping stories with other geeks who were just as passionate as I was about our dear feathered friends**.

Now, if I haven’t scared you off with all of that birding banter, congratulations, maybe you’re genuinely interested in learning more (or very bored). If the former, fear not if you’re a beginner. Birding can be very easy and incredibly fun with a few tips!

1. A good birder never wears white.

White is one of the more obvious colors for birds to pick up, especially in forests. Birds are incredibly keen on white, which has evolved some interesting behaviors. For example, baby birds excrete waste in white fecal sacs. To prevent predators from spotting the white color, momma birds easily pick up the neatly packaged poop and dispose of it far, far away. The giant messes left on your cars are most likely from adult birds who no longer need to use fecal sacs.

2. Pay attention to bird behavior, even if the birds you’re looking at aren’t that rare.

Some of the more interesting birds I’ve seen have come from watching bird behavior. While wandering around Philly later that same day, I noticed several restless House Sparrows and Robins chipping and squawking about. Typically this behavior means that there’s a predator looming about and seconds later I was able to point out an extremely close Red-tailed Hawk to my group of friends. This birding tactic has also helped me to spot some very cool species in wooded areas including the elusive Barred Owl and the always adorable Broad-winged Hawk. When birding in more forested areas, also keep an eye out for any sort of movement; some of my favorite warbler experiences have resulted from this!

3. Birds of a feather flock together.

My best birding adventures have always been in groups (it goes without saying that 4+ eyes/ears are more useful than two). Birding with someone more experienced also has its perks. Though there’s always personal pride when you’re able to spot a new life-lister on your own. If you have them, binoculars are always great, but if not, a nicely shined pair of glasses (if needed) works well for beginners.

4. Embrace your inner bird nerd.

People are genuinely interested in birds! While I have gotten some strange looks before for aukwardly stopping (again, forgive me for the puns) in more populated areas to get a better look at a catbird, take pride that you have a fund of knowledge that most people know nothing about! And be prepared to have people ask what you’re looking at…always a great conversation starter.

Being able to appreciate this unique group of animals is one of the more beneficial perks to being a birder. Sure, some of them can be disgusting, some of them can freak you out (I still get nervous when pigeons fly too close to my head), but understanding their unique language is something not many people can do. So the next time you’re strolling in the park, or happen to come across a wooded area or lake, take a second, listen up, and brag to all your friends that you can now successfully point out a key piece of our ecosystems!

courtesy Carla Vanderbilt. Ashley getting her feathers ruffled (see what I did there?) about the now-extinct Ivory-Billed Woodpecker.

*Fact: There is no such thing as a seagull. Spread the word.

**Not all birds are sweet little darlings. Chickadees in hand are the most ferocious little birds. I’ve had cuticles torn off. And Blue Jays (fondly referred to as nature’s assholes) are one of the easier birds to band.

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Global Citizen, Volunteer, Journalist part II

Posted on June 15, 2012 | 1 Comment

Meg: grad student, idealist, theology nerd, friend and fellow blogger =)

Meg is one of our favorite guest bloggers. We love her because  in addition to being she’s a very thoughtful, eloquent and inspiring writer, she’s also in the middle of a year of service abroad. Last time we checked in with Meg, she was in Haiti working with Haitian Health Foundation (click here for Global Citizen, Volunteer, Journalist part I). Since then, she’s moved on to volunteer in Honduras. 

Throughout the year Meg has been recording her thoughts and relfections on her personal blog, “Logos Became Flesh – Experiences of a Theology Student” (check it out, it’s worth a read). In fact, just recently one of her posts was picked up by Relevant Magazine! In it, she discusses the dignity of the poor in Haiti and how, despite good intentions, the Americans that want to do “great things” for them can unknowingly degrade that inherent worth and humanity.

An excerpt from “No Great Things” by Meg Topp

…Mother Teresa famously said, ¨There are no great things; there are only small things, done with great love.¨

These are the strangers in my life that have impacted me the most profoundly: my first-grade lunch lady.  My elementary school nurse.  My middle school bus driver. The woman at UVA who swiped people´s meal cards for lunch.

Why?  

Because the lunch lady gave me free pizza every Friday while my mom was dying, so I wouldn´t be the only kid in the lunchroom who couldn´t have pizza because we were paying for her operations. She sat with me during lunch hour because I was too preoccupied and sad to have conversations with the other kids. 

Because my elementary school nurse figured out that my constant stomach aches just meant that I needed someone to talk to. She made sure to be there whenever I needed her. 

Because my middle school bus driver didn´t put up with bullies, made everyone feel specially loved. She treated us all to pizza just because she liked us. 

Because Cathy the Cardswiper knew each face behind the cards that she swiped, and always had words of encouragement for everyone. She let me go in early on frigid mornings after I´d had to stand in formation for ROTC for 2 hours and couldn´t feel my toes so I could have a cup of coffee and a hot breakfast. 

Isn´t that funny?

Small things. Great love. Don´t get distracted. It´s the only way we can really do anything worthwhile.

That´s it.

Thanks again for letting us share your words on our blog, Meg! Keep up the great work and writing. We’ll continue to follow your journey from afar. =)

Meg in the DR (picture swipped from Facebook – forgive us for stalking!)

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Sometimes, it feels like there’s no room for the groom

Posted on May 11, 2012 | 2 Comments

We wish Nilblogger and his bride-to-be much happiness (and zero green slime).

 

About the Author: Nilblogger*, a happily engaged groom eagerly waiting his marriage, is rounding out Life in Labels’ wedding-themed post collection with some much needed male perspective. Current/future brides and grooms should read and take notes. Thanks for your wisdom, Nilblogger! This is certainly a good response/foil to the female annonymous post from Bridezilla.

I’d like to provide a (somewhat biased) account of what it means to have the labels “fiancé” and “groom,” as well as the buildup to them.  A somewhat harsh sounding word (why does it make me think of gloom?), it’s full of subtle complexities that are not always apparent on the surface. 

I served as the Best Man for my older brother’s wedding almost three years ago.  I’ll never forget how nervous my brother looked as I waited with him before he got married, and I remember asking him if he was nervous.  He simply shook his head and said, “This is all for her [his wife].”  It’s a very easy thing to say and understand conceptually, but until you actually go through the marriage process, you learn that some people don’t even care about the groom.  This can be both comical and upsetting.

In its ideal context, marriage is a union of two people equally committed to make the other person happy and become the best version s/he can be.  It takes two people to make a marriage – no one person can make it happen by him/herself.  As marriage can increasingly become a big business, I think many people in the industry are forgetting that there is also a man involved in the process.  And not to toot my own or any other man’s horn, but a lot of work goes into getting a woman to marry you!  It’s a long process that played out, for me at least, as follows (“You” will refer to the future groom below):

1. Incite the interest of your future bride-to-be. This is first step, and nothing can move forward without this.  No matter how you do it, she must have some interest in you before you stand a chance.  I (sometimes unsuccessfully) used humor, coupled with respect, to garner the interest of my bride-to-be.

2. Pursue your bride-to-be. Although it isn’t totally true across the board, most women like to be pursued and like to have men “make the first move.”  Sometimes steps one and two can be reversed (continued pursuit of a woman increases her interest), but in my case, I was interested in my bride-to-be long before she was interested in me.  Once I felt reasonably confident she was interested in me, I had to pursue her.  This consisted of asking her out, and then continuing to court her.  The ball was in my court to continue my budding relationship with my bride-to-be, not the other way around.

3. Maintain a serious relationship with your bride-to-be. Once the dates began to flow with my bride-to-be, I needed to go through my first big relationship change: Move from “fun” to “serious.”  Having fun is great, but my bride-to-be needed to know I was in this for the long haul.  I was (and still am) caring and loving toward my bride-to-be so she would know I could be the best spouse for her and best father of her children.  You can’t marry a woman if she doesn’t want to marry you, so this was a crucial step in the process.

4. Pre-engagement preparations.

  • Ask for your bride-to-be’s hand in marriage. Call me old-fashioned, but I believe this is a sign of respect out of your bride-to-be’s family.  Your bride-to-be is special, and it’s very humbling to ask permission in a very vulnerable position.
  • Buy the rock. Some couples go shopping together for ideas (we did), and some don’t.  But this is a HUGE step in the process.  For some men, it may be the biggest single purchase they make at one time up to that point in their lives.  When done properly, this step involves a lot of research, and every husband-to-be should be able to rattle off “The Four C’s” by the end (For anyone who doesn’t know, they’re color, cut, clarity, and carat).

5. Ask your-bride to be to marry you. When you are asking your bride-to-be to marry you, you, presumably, care about her immensely.  Thus, you will likely put tremendous effort into planning your proposal to her.  It could be the only time you ask a woman to marry you, so you want to put care and effort into it.  I won’t go into the exact details of my proposal, but I planned it out for several months beforehand.  Hopefully when you do have your plan in place and execute, you have done enough in the previous steps for her to say yes!

I hope I’ve shown that, up until the moment she says yes, much of the burden is on the man.  It is a lot of work, but its work that is done lovingly to get the prize of your future wife at the end.  However, engagement is another big shift in the relationship.  The most serious issues a couple may encounter during courtship are where to go to dinner or what movie to watch.  Engagement is inherently serious, as you’re now planning the rest of your lives together.  Another shift can occur, as the man goes from exerting tremendous effort to win his woman to taking a back seat in the preparation process.  Sometimes the man reaches the back seat sooner than he expects.

Case in point:  The first meeting my fiancée and I had with our reception venue coordinator was when the first “red light” went off.  During the meeting, this female coordinator’s eyes and attention were fixated on my fiancée’s, and I’ve never seen focus like that before.  I literally felt like I was not even in the room during this meeting.  This coordinator also used the expression “Team Bride,” which has become a running joke in our upcoming wedding.  The coordinator expressed that we were all on “Team Bride” and she would do anything and everything to make sure all of my fiancée’s needs were met.  At one point, the coordinator made another comment about how she would pamper my fiancée and, being the smart aleck I normally am, I added, “Yes, because we are all on Team Bride.”  The coordinator seemed taken aback and said she would “take care of me” by getting me an alcoholic beverage of my choosing at the reception.  As an avid member of Team Bride, I was obviously flattered by this.  Picking out food and flowers is much the same, as the man’s opinion is not given as much weight.

I’m not saying men should help pick the bride’s dress or should be experts on flowers.   As for the dress, I would argue it’s much better for the man to be kept in the dark and be surprised on the wedding day.  I am only suggesting a shift in attitude in recognition of the man’s status in the relationship and the impending marriage.  That’s the important thing to remember: the wedding day is equally the groom’s day.  To get to this place, it requires give-and-take: the bride may have run details by the groom to keep him in the loop, and the groom should take an active and aggressive interest in things like linens and flowers if he really wants to be considered an equal party.  Marriage takes two people, and the planning of it should, too.

My fiancée has been wonderful in making sure I feel involved in the wedding preparation process and has gone out of her way to make sure our vendors and helpers know I am involved.  So for all you ladies out there, if your man wants to be involved and you want him to be involved, you’ll have to help him out, because most people will be looking at you during the preparation.  Leave some room for your groom…

So instead of Team Bride, why not Team Couple?

*A Troll 2 reference. If you don’t understand, you should educate yourself. =)

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Posted in Guest Bloggers, Wedding Week

Tagged

Signs, Symptoms…and Race?

Posted on April 6, 2012 | 1 Comment

About the Author: Mazvita (pronounced Ma-ZHEE-ta, but she just goes by Z) is in my class at medschool.  She’s always ready to: bust it up on the dance floor, pick a fight with you about culture (don’t ask how she feels about Halloween), and ruthlessly speak her mind in her sweet accent–which is NOT British, mind you. Read on as she analyzes how  doctors take race into account when treating a patient.  It’s usually the second thing we say: “Patient M is a 57yo black male presenting with…”  We often use race to help us find a diagnosis–Z argues it shouldn’t be a topic of conversation at all.

I was talking to my Psychiatric attending, and he brought up the issue of race and asked what it means to me, a member of the new generation.  How important is it for me to know and emphasize the race of person, especially a patient that I am caring for.  To me, the colour of your skin is of little importance, even in healthcare.

This argument was raised: Race helps you develop a better differential diagnosis.  My response is: a patient does not come in to the hospital with their ethnicity determining what the diagnosis is, his/her symptoms do.  Granted, based on genetics, one may be at greater risk for developing a certain condition or have poorer outcomes of an illness, but does anyone truly know which genes determine race–and how likely they are to be inherited with the other genes that decide your risk of a disease? Since the scientific community has not yet developed a concrete answer to that question, why do we continue to base some of our medical practices on “race?”

We live in a world where people marry for love and not necessarily the colour of your skin.  What we used to think were distinct “races” are now in fact a mangled, jumbled mess of chromosomes. One cannot look at a person and know his/her genetic make-up.  If I were to walk into a hospital in the USA, it would be assumed that I am African-American, when I am in fact African.  Since I have the same skin tone as another ethnicity, do I still have the same health risks?  I do not share the same heritage.

Research has been done for various ailments; some conclusions state that one race is more likely to have more complications than another.  However, just as race is a polyallelic trait, disease outcomes are multifactorial. I was told that there is a correlation between race and disease outcome.  This is true, but instead of just accepting this as fact, shouldn’t one question why this correlation exists?  It is well known that certain people have better access to resources than others, be it access to healthcare, ability to pay for services, socioeconomic status or education.  I have faith that this, along with genetics, determines one’s true risk of a disease, not the amount of melanin that they produce.

I keep on referring to genetics as being the true determinant of a person’s probability of developing a condition, and I have stated that the colour of your skin is also genetic.  So, why do I not accept that your skin colour determines the likelihood that you will develop a disease?  I say that some genes are stronger than others; you may have inherited a darker skin tone from one parent but gotten protective genes from your other parent.  I am reminded of an article I read about a set of fraternal twins, born to an interracial couple, that have opposite skin tones.  Yes, paternity was a question initially, but after genetic counselling it was determined that the father of the twins, who is considered black, had European and African ancestry.  Combined with the European lineage of the twins’ mother, one child appears black (due to the father’s African heritage) and the other child white (a combination of both parents’ European descent).

To the twin that appears “white,” would one tell him that he is not black because he is not dark enough? Or would one tell him he is black because his father is black? Why should his racial affiliation be a concern or an issue? He is a human being, not a box to be checked on a demographic questionnaire.

Bottom line – I believe that continuing to base medical diagnoses on what is most likely to occur in people with the same skin tone is an advanced practice of prejudice.  And just because there are examples that prove the rule more often than not, it’s still not acceptable.  I am convinced that the rule is true most of the time because we live in society that has a tendency to repeat a vicious cycle, maintaining certain differences between races. I just hope that eventually we, as inhabitants of the same planet, come to the conclusion that we are all one human family, and that we should focus on what unites us, not what segregates us further.

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Musician

Posted on December 16, 2011 | 1 Comment

Livin' the dream...

About the author: Shanna Hoar is a whimsical, creative singer-songwriter currently rocking out in  Charlottesville, Virginia. She can play the guitar, piano, and ukulele. Oh – and she can sing. Like, this girl can really sing! (We featured her as one of our Friday Favorites!) While other young people everywhere are putting their dreams on hold during this bad economy, we think it’s really cool that Shanna is still doing her thing. Keep it up, girl! When you’re famous one day, we will brag about this post and falsely claim we discovered you. You’ve been warned.

I’m a musician. The other day, my friend Gabe told me he had a friend who wanted to do the same thing that I was doing, so he told his friend about me because I’m apparently ‘living the dream.’ It was cute. Because right now this means… I babysit for a living.

Who am I? Watch this.

Now if that didn’t clear anything up for you, I’m Shanna Hoar….pronounced whore. It’s ok. No need to be shy about it. It’s a pretty cool name, if I do say so myself. I want to be a singer-songwriter. I mean, I am one (that’s what you’re supposed to say to make people think you’re legit, right?) This means I babysit my booty off to pay rent while emailing venues that don’t answer back asking if I can play. I post YouTube videos every once in a while, and ask people to ‘like’ my super high tech Facebook music page. I also beg for money to help me afford to release a CD, and hope that word of mouth magically propels me into super-stardom.

I write songs about boobies, falling for the bad boy, and deeper stuff.

The worst part about the career stage I’m in now is having to thrust myself on people. “LIKE ME!” “LIKE ME!” “Have you SEEEN my new video!?!?!” I haven’t gotten the networking thing down yet to where it can be casually slipped into conversation that I make music and – oh by the way, PLEASE go to my shows and watch my videos and like my page and buy my I-can’t-afford-to-release-it-yet album!!!

So I came up with a plan to suck people in. I’ve decided to start holding contests for the people who recruit me the most fans. If you tell enough people and get me 10 more ‘likes’ on Facebook, you will be entered into a drawing to win this exclusive Shanna Hoar tee.

Cool right? Hold on to your hat. It gets better. If you share one of my videos on your Facebook page or personal website, YOU will be entered to win this wicked awesome Playstation.

Worried the competition will be too tough for those awesome prizes? WELL – if you book me a show or advertise enough to get me 300 more views on any of my YouTube videos, you’ll be entered to win this iPad!

Hopefully that should motivate people!

One thing I have to give myself props for, is my subtlety. I would never shamelessly self-promote by slipping in random links into my blog that actually lead to my music page or anything obvious like that. I’m also really great about staying down to Earth and being humble about what I do. Even if my music is the most whimsical and genius combination of lyrics and melody that has ever graced this planet…I don’t go around mentioning it, you know? 

So, my friend Gabe was partially right. My occupation may read Experienced Childcare Provider right now, but soon everyone will have heard of this Hoar. I’ve got gumption…and I’m subtle, humble and unique enough to use words like gumption. And I’m still writing songs, singing them and performing and as long as I am… I’d say I’m living the dream.

 

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Posted in Guest Bloggers

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Global Citizen, Volunteer, Journalist

Posted on September 28, 2011 | 2 Comments

The labels I’m writing about today do not belong to me. They belong to my wonderful friend Meg…

A few weeks ago Meg left for a year of service in Jeremie, Haiti – one of the poorest towns in the entire country. She’s stationed with the Haitian Health Foundation, a nonprofit that was founded by Jeremiah Lowney at the behest of Mother Teresa. While she’s there, Meg will be working in the community, assisting the nonprofit, and – most importantly – sharing the stories of the people of Jeremie through film, blogging, and social media.

Meg and I in Saltadere

Meg and I actually traveled to Haiti together during our second year of college. It was one of the most  meaningful experiences of my young adult life. We went with several other members of our campus ministry to volunteer at our sister parish, St. Michel,  in the rural village of Saltadere. Since that trip, Meg has been talking about going back for a longer period of service, so (even though I’ll miss her terribly) I’m thrilled that this is finally happening for her. I feel like the least I can do now is help share Meg’s stories and amplify the often forgotten voices of Jeremie. In other words, you can expect some regular updates about Meg from Life in Labels. If we’re lucky, we might even get some really wonderful, perceptive guest pieces from her!

So, with Meg’s permission, I’ve posted a few excerpts from her recent emails and blog posts:

August 9, 2011

“…In my time traveling to visit different impoverished countries short-term, I’ve learned an important but basic lesson:  Before any good can happen, we must learn to respect each other’s humanity. Failure to recognize another’s humanity, designed in the Image of God, is the root of all evils.  It’s the root of apathy – and it’s the root of self-righteous paternalism that equally dehumanizes the poor. So this is what I want to bring to you: their names, their faces, their stories, their lives, and their hopes. The Haitian Health Foundation’s motto is “The opposite of love isn’t hate – the opposite of love is apathy.”  Thus, the way to break down apathy is to build up love.  And building up love usually requires knowledge of the one we love. The purpose of this blog is to provide that knowledge, to connect the humanity within Haiti to the minds of regular Americans… to use the internet to plant the seeds of community between two very different societies.  In order for that to work… well, I’m asking you to read.”

September 10, 2011

“…My job is to communicate the stories of the people who live here in Jeremie – some are inspiring, some are devastating, and most are a mix of both. This has been a challenging week.  My eyes have been opened to the reality of our intentions when we Americans fly down to serve those in Haiti.  Some are beautiful, and some merely have the appearance of beauty – “the wool of lambs, but the heart of ravenous wolves”.  Sometimes we come to serve.  Sometimes we come because we are in love with the idea of ourselves as “good people”, who have come to save the world… there is serious collateral damage to such an attitude…”

September 22, 2011

“And now I could not sleep, wedged between a stranger and a great cement wall, trying not to imagine the 3-inch cockroaches that were undoubtedly skittering up and down it.  I had seen families living like this in Mackenal, the slums of Jeremie… five kids to a single mattress on the floor (the floor, with no separation from the rats I could hear beneath me)…I thought of cholera.  I had learned of it just before leaving for this village.  “I had no idea cholera could kill you in six hours,” Bette had said…”

“It was Sunday morning, and I was sick. I’d gotten sick three times in an hour…Let it be food poisoning.  Let it be food poisoning. It’s probably food poisoning…”

“…When I prayed asking God to please spare me from some horrible illness like cholera, to let it be something like food poisoning instead, I couldn’t help but think, “Is this faith?  Believing that God will heal me?  What makes my prayer so much more important than the prayers of the hundreds of thousands of Haitians who have already died? Didn’t they have faith as well?”  And the beautiful theological answer became a very harsh reality: ‘No.  Faith is not about believing that God will heal your body.  Faith is about believing that, even should one die in the most undignified way possible, God will use it for our greater good and His greater glory, because God is the fulfillment of all things.’”

September 27, 2011

“…If a temptation to apathy is reinforced by structures that keep us from really seeing one another, then I consider part of my job here to kick down that wall (or maybe just parade around it doing nothing effective except shouting praises to God like a maniac).  Which means – bring the experiences of the poor in Haiti into the laptops and living rooms of as many people in America as possible…”

As you can see, Meg is a really eloquent person with strength, faith, and a servant’s heart. I’m so impressed by her and the commitment she’s made. I can’t wait to follow her progress and read more about the people of Jeremie, Haiti. Meg, thank you for allowing us to publish your words and share your fresh, honest perspective on our blog!

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Workaholic Student

Posted on September 23, 2011 | 4 Comments

About the author: Gracie is Emily D’s other [more fabulous] half.  She has a passion for cupcakes, music festivals, photography, and fashion.  In her free time she eats chicken nuggets, keeps up an eclectic and wonderful tumblr, and likes to plan ahead for fun Halloween costumes.

7 days a week, 2 jobs, 4 classes, 40 hours working, 12 hours learning, 10.5 hours studying.  That, folks, is a typical week in the life of a Workaholic Student. When I’m not in class I’m at World Market. When I’m not at World Market I’m at Firebird’s, and when I’m not at Firebird’s I’m at the library or in bed.

Since the age of 16 I have tried most every field of work an undergrad could possibly get in to. The first, and the place I found my calling as a customer service specialist, was as a cashier at a sporting goods store. I can’t help it– I’m a people pleaser, and I love to see my customers leave with what they came for with a smile on their face.

Following my first job, I spent a short amount of time over the summer in 2010 trying out a few other fields of work. I did my two weeks time as a waitress at Applebee’s (5 choices under 500 calories!), one day in a dentist office as an office/hygienist’s assistant (drilling teeth makes me queasy), and a week as a filing assistant (I can do complicated alpha order in my sleep).  I also had the best month of my life over Christmas Break working at World Market. Then I found my second calling: dealing with grumpy, hungry people and guiding them to the plush booths of Firebird’s Grill. I get paid to dress in cute fashionable clothing, aka pushing the dress code as far as I can, and I get the latest of the gossip from Godwin/Deep Run High Schools.

Alas, I was sucked back into my niche, the world of retail, at none other than World Market. I was born to cashier. Aside from my station behind registers 1 and 3, I have also become official Chalk Board Artiste, if you will, for the promotional board we keep outside the store.

fabulous board skillz

Between being #1 cashier and most fashionably adventurous hostess, I’m a full time student at VCU.

cashier by day... hostess by night

Often I get asked, “How do you do it? Two jobs and finishing homework can’t be possible.” Au contraire, it can. I use my breaks at work to do my homework, and any time between classes is spent in the library making flashcards or reading and typing up answers to response questions/writing response papers.

The good news is that when I get home at night, I rarely have homework because I get it all done at work or before work. My downtime is at 10pm every day. I take this time to snuggle with my kitty, catch up on the Kardashians, and run my dishwasher and laundry machines.

quality mother-kitten time.

Prior to being a Workaholic, I was just another college student: head full of mass media and pop culture, naps between classes, and tons of time with my friends. Now I barely know what’s in and what’s out, naps are a luxury for my occasional day off every other week, and I see my friends once a week at most (unless you’re Amber, my workaholic best friend and fellow cashier/hostess).

This may seem like a lot, but I wouldn’t trade it in for a typical college lifestyle. I love being so busy, having a set schedule, and being able to pay for things myself. Yeah, I miss out on some things like VCU Hockey games and staying out late on a Friday night getting shwasty (is it still called that?) but sleep > parties when you only have 12 – 15 hours between shifts. I’ve always been one step ahead of where I am – college mentality in high school, now “real world” mentality in college. It must come from having an older sibling and wanting to be at the same point in life as she is.   It’s become a joke that I’m in a relationship with my jobs.  But really, where am I going to find a boyfriend who gives me money for clothes and cat food in exchange for all my free time?

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Posted in Guest Bloggers

Tagged ,

Irish

Posted on September 16, 2011 | 1 Comment

Amy, we wish we could hear your voice. We'd probably gush over your awesome accent.

About the Author: Amy is a repeat guest blogger here on Life in Labels (see her other post here) and we love the fresh perspective she brings to the blog! She’ll be graduating from law school in Cork this fall. To follow more of Amy’s thoughts and musings, check out her Tumblr!

I greet my mother with a “Top o’ the mornin’” every day, before donning something green and skipping merrily to the bar to start drinking. I am accompanied wherever I go by  traditional background music and I only ever eat Lucky Charms for breakfast.

Such are the stereotypes I unfortunately fail to live up to as an Irish person. In fact, I have never heard anybody non-fictionally say, “Top o’ the morning.” But three summers in the US have taught me a lot about cultural sensitivity and perceptions (as well as the differences between American and European English).

Though it is a well-known fact that I want to spend the rest of my days living in sun-tanned (Ireland is mostly a dull grey) bliss in Southern California, Irishness has manifested itself deeply in me (rampant alcoholism and leprechaun accent aside) in ways I will probably never be able to abandon. What does it mean to be Irish? Being Irish means you are always equipped with a healthy dose of negativity. (Murphy’s Law – if it can go wrong, it will. Murphy is the most common surname here on the Emerald Isle.) Everything is usually quite awful: the price of petrol (gas), the government, and the RAIN. You are always complaining. The grass is always greener (figuratively, but literally we are the most foliate of countries). This mentality comes from centuries of actually being the underdog – from colonialism and famine, to war with the British, to civil war, to recession, to a tiny bit of financial success which we quickly replaced with, again, recession – being Irish has been, in fact, quite hard.

But these historical hard-times have bestowed upon Irish people a gift that some can only dream of: charm. Irish people, generally, are all talk. They’ll spin you yarns and enchant you with tales of leprechauns they know personally. We work hard because we are always afraid that the famine will come back and because we have been doing so for a very long time. And bizarrely, people like us. When I tell non-Irish people that I am Irish, their faces light up. They ask me if I know their aunt’s cousin’s mother’s dog’s neighbour’s friend…who was Irish. (Spoiler: I probably do.) They ask me if I say “Top o’ the morning,” and if I drink all the time. (I do, but only tea.)

I feel lucky to be Irish, really, and even more so to not be the kind of Irish person portrayed in most commercial movies – unaware of electricity, great friends with sheep, and an accent that could kill you in your sleep. I love walking down the street and almost always meeting somebody I know. (There are about 5 million people in the country – Ireland is somewhat comparable to Indiana in terms of size and population.) I love that we have sports nobody’s ever even heard of, but playwrights and musicians famous the world over. I love that I’m never stuck for conversation. We say boot, you say trunk. We say tap, you say faucet. We say secondary school, you say high-school and so on… I love that nobody ever really expects that much of us, but they like us all the same.

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Posted in Guest Bloggers

Tagged

“Gentleman”

Posted on September 9, 2011 | 1 Comment

About the Author: For our guest post today, we asked a guy friend for his input.  Sure, we can speculate about our own Jackie/Marilyn-ness, but how are guys really using the stereotype?  Do they buttonhole us into these categories, or are we just doing this to ourselves?

What do Gentlemen prefer?

It's not all about the hair color.

Daughter of a publisher/creator of a late 19th century tabloid, Anita Loos lived a life following her fathers footsteps of alcohol and philandering.  Her last name even reflects her fascination with “lowlifes” and “loose” women, although she claimed “The family has always used the correct French pronunciation which is lohse. However, I myself pronounce my name as if it were spelled luce, since most people pronounce it that way and it was too much trouble to correct them.”

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes was one of her big hits, and Loos’ short story went on to become a book and then eventually a hit Broadway musical.  But despite her youthful actions and hit short stories, Loos was actually a brunette.  Perhaps explaining her sequel, But Gentlemen Marry Brunettes. From here on, I will use Blondes to denote Marilyns and Brunettes to denote Jackies, because in essence, although these were written before these two women, they represent this ongoing motif.  Yes, I’m generalizing, but there is some truth to the stereotype.

Blonde, brunette, red-head, bald, whatever the case may be, the fact of the matter is that the idea that “blondes are more fun” (in bed) and that brunettes are “the girls you take home to your parents” (see: Warner Huntington III needing to marry a Vivian and not an Elle in Legally Blonde), does not hold true in today’s standards.  Marilyn and Jackie simply do not have the same appeals that they did decades ago.


But when I was asked to guest write this post, I was told that it should be about “the male reaction to the Marilyn/Jackie categories. It might be interesting to have an anonymous male perspective on how guys snap-label girls today.”

Now for those of you who have been following the blog, you know that life doesn’t necessarily fit into the labels given.  The same holds true for guys; how am I to be responsible for the male reaction to this antiquated idea of Marilyn vs. Jackie?  The only response I can give you is my own, so let me paint you a picture…

Friday night, 10:00 PM, a dive bar full of college students who have just finished pregaming with the cheapest bourbon they could get their underage hands on.

A group of female friends walks in, the most attractive blonde and brunette are now on my radar, and though I can’t speak for them, every other male in the room’s radar as well. A quick scan and it’s confirmed, they are the “Marilyn” and “Jackie” of the room.

* Should I, should I not, should I, should I not…*

I walk up to the bar and buy the two girls a shot. We cheer to “Last Friday Night”, get each others’ names, do our shots; our faces then quickly turn sour and after a few moments return to the normal “woo, ready to party!” look.

Br: Thanks! turns away to talk to friend.
Bl: Omg I haven’t done shots in forever! read: Since we left our apartment pregame. I can’t do so many shots or else I get sick.  Last time I did too many shots, I woke up in a random bed in the bad part of town holding a toy jedi light saber in one hand, and with a bowl of lime green jello duct taped to my other, and you wouldn’t BELIEVE what … I phase out as she drones on, which leads to Theorem (generalization) 1.

Theorem 1. Blondes are  friendlier/more outgoing than brunettes.  It’s part of what makes a blonde a Marilyn.  Now, this doesn’t always hold true, see below.

Corollary to Theorem 1.  Unless the blonde (or any female) thinks that she is the hottest POA in the room.  If you don’t know what that stands for, tough.

The night wears on, I’ve returned to my seat with my bros, but I’m always keeping an eye out to see if Br and Bl are heading my way.

Interlude of double rail liquors and watered down sodas, tequila shots that double as drain cleaners, and God knows whatever was in that flimsy plastic cup that was just accidentally drunk.  

I scour the crowds and spot subject Bl.  Br is lost in a sea of Lily Pulitzer floral dresses.  Oh God, the flowery pastel sea of sundresses. Only made worse by the “down in one” just placed upon me. How the bourbon burns.

Theorem 2.  Blondes are rarer than brunettes.  This theorem is hardly a theorem when speaking about blondes as it is a fact that there are fewer blondes in the world than brunettes.  There was even a myth going around that the blonde “race” would die out in about 50 years, although this falsity was debunked (thank the heavens!).  But, it holds true that the blonde will be more noticeable in a crowd of many. On the Marilyn/Jackie side, I do find that in general, more females my age tend to be introverted and “drawing their energy from themselves”.

All hell breaks loose as subject Bl and Br are headed to the door, probably for another bar. Br is texting away on her cell phone while Bl is saying goodbye to half the bar. A random round of blowjob shots for who knows why.

Theorem 3. Because blondes are rarer, guys (see me) in general DO prefer the outgoing “Marilyn” types.

A shot to not getting Bl or Br, but there are plenty of other subjects in the crowd.  And at this point, many of said subjects are looking just as attractive as Bl and Br.  Blondes, Brunettes, Redheads, dirty Ke$has, bald girls who donated their hair to cancer, etc. Oh wait, that last one was actually a dude, no homo.  Dude’s got some feminine features.  Jay Sean’s “Down” is playing and we all drink while he sings the chorus. I scour once more.

 What was I talking about? Why is the room spinning? I’d take home any of the girls tonight. Anyone? She’s lost about 30lbs since I walked in here, amazing! Last call in more than one way…

I never said it was a pretty picture.

But for all intents and purposes, yes I prefer Marilyn to Jackie, but at this point in life, I’m not looking to settle down, as I doubt most guys my age are.  I’m seeking a fun, outgoing gal, not someone to cook my dinner and. Wait, scratch that, if there’s a fun and crazy chick that wants to cook me dinner please send me an email here.

Marilyn vs. Jackie?  Yes, we will label you as one or the other.  But for at least half the guys out there, beggars can’t be choosers. We’ll take whichever (if either) we can get.

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Posted in Guest Bloggers, Marilyn vs. Jackie Week

On Being Ginger

Posted on September 2, 2011 | 4 Comments

"Only a ginger can call another ginger 'ginger.'"

About the Author: Alexandra Naughton is a San Francisco-based blogger, writer, rapper and zine publisher. She has a passion for photography, art, poetry, and finding beauty in the everyday. To join her adventure, read her blog (We highly recommend it!) and follow her on Twitter.

I used to hate being a ginger. Like Anne Shirley, of Anne of Green Gables, I couldn’t stand my red hair and freckled face. I didn’t look like the other kids– my mom had cut my hair short, which made my red locks spring up into tight little curls– and in my early school years I resented feeling like an outcast. I wanted to be like the other little girls with their mousy brown hair which their mothers let them grow long below their bottoms. I got teased for looking different and I didn’t feel pretty. When you’re older it’s cool to be different, but when you’re in kindergarten it is far easier when you are assimilated.

Not all of the attention I got from my gingerness was negative when I was a child. In fact, my elderly Italian neighbors would fawn over me, calling me “Shirley Temple,” and telling me they would die (or was it “dye?”) to have my hair color. These compliments gave me a self esteem boost, but were also a bit confusing. Why would anyone want to have red hair? Why would anyone want to look like me?

I didn’t express my contempt for my looks to anyone else, I heard enough of that from my classmates. I envisioned starting my own girl group, a la The Supremes, called The Sun Spots with me as the lead singer. The other girls in the group would also have freckles, hence the name “sun spots.” I wanted to like my freckles and red hair and dreaming up positive outcomes from my sorry situation did make me feel better, but I was still intensely worried that no one, besides my family, would ever love me. That’s quite a burden to carry for a six year old…

The red-haired characters I saw on television were almost always socially inept bespectacled dweebs, so I related to their plight. There were some exceptions to the Gingers Must Be Ugly & Unpopular Rule, like Ariel from The Little Mermaid and Jessica Rabbit from Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, but those were rare fish in a sea of trout. One character that served as an inspiration to my young ginger self was Madeline, the red-haired French girl with a tummy scar and an adventurous spirit. She didn’t care what anyone else thought– she knew what she liked and she went after her dreams.

I was an awkward adolescent, but being ginger made me stick out like a sore thumb amongst my peers. However, after being teased for many years for just about anything I did – from the clothes I wore to the music I liked to the books I read to  the thing I had no control over, my physical appearance, I eventually got used to it. I suppose you can only be teased so much until it just becomes normal, and finally I decided somewhere in the fourth or fifth grades that I didn’t want to be like everyone else. I wanted to be different, to be weird, and so I embraced my gingerness.

Always the contrarian, I took extra steps to get away from the group, like the time in summer camp when I took to saying “present” during roll call instead of “here” like the rest of the campers, until that one day when one of the more nasty counselors thought it would be hilarious to single me out and got the rest of the camp to say “present” forcing me to say “here.” They got a good laugh out of that, but you know what they say, “Small joke, small brain” (yes, I borrowed that from Full House).

So, I learned to love what set me apart from other people, my ugly duckling status, so to speak, became an asset. In high-school and college I really became comfortable with myself and didn’t let other people’s negativity get me down. I liked what I saw in the mirror and realized that I could find friends who appreciated me for being me. I also realized that the reason people picked on me had more to do with the bully than it had to do with me. Being ginger just made me seem like an easy target because I was “the other.”

There are a lot of cool things about being ginger. For one, Mark Twain has said that redheads are special because we descended from cats, unlike the rest of the human race which descended from apes, and who doesn’t love cats? Cats are way cuter than monkeys. And even though studies have shown that we are more sensitive to pain, and I don’t need a scientific study to show that we do not tan and shouldn’t stay out in the sun too long, we are very easy to spot in a large crowd of people. I once had a colorblind person tell me that my hair was unlike anyone else’s – that it looked like “magic.” That’s the only way he could describe it.

All in all, I like being a ginger. Fewer than one percent of the world population has red hair and that makes me feel unique. If there is any life lesson you take away from this article, be it this: rock who you are, love who you are. It doesn’t matter what anyone else says, be real with yourself and feel good about what makes you an individual. Why would you ever want to be just like anyone else when you can be an original you? Those are my words of wisdom that I hope resonate with readers.

Before I go, though, also remember this:

“Only a ginger can call another ginger ‘ginger.’”

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Posted in Guest Bloggers

Tagged

Xenial

Posted on July 29, 2011 | 3 Comments

Click on the picture to read Lauren's new blog!

About the Author: Lauren (not this Lauren, but this Lauren) is a now a triple Life in Labels guest blogger and probably our favorite Californian ever. She went to high school in Virginia with Lori and Denise, but fled the east coast for Malibu. We especially appreciate her now because she is helping us fulfill our “challenge” by contributing a much needed “x” label to our blog. Lauren, thank you for your kindness and your impressive vocabulary.

Xe•nial - adj \-nēəl, -nyəl\: of, relating to, or constituting hospitality or relations between host and guest and esp. among the ancient Greeks between persons of different cities <xenial relationship> <xenial customs>

I have never been a xenagogue, though I do enjoy overly-informative tours. I own some flannel but have not yet begun my career as a xylopolist. According to Ms. Monroe, gentlemen would not prefer me, as I am not xanthous.  I have only a mild case of xylopolist (one who sells wood), but do not battle xenomania; and as I am neither a cacti or camel, I am not xerophytic.* I do however, enjoy those things of a xenial nature.

Xeniality, shall we call it, has to do with hospitality towards guests. I love the connotations of this relating to ancient cultures, because I am reminded of the Odyssey or Aeneid, where entire chapters take place over a banquet- or several days of banquets. The guests arrive, the hosts throw open the palace doors and bring out the snacks, and everyone settles in for a good long round of storytelling.

I am constantly inviting people over- to my condo for dinner, to come have lunch near my office, to the park near my house, and to sleep on my floor as they are passing through. It’s because I really like people. Specifically, I really like peoples’ stories. It is why I really like long meals, and long car trips with friends, and quiet pubs. I consider myself blessed and want to bless others. The best way I know to do this is to let people just be.

I currently only have a couch to offer, so I can’t be as hospitable as I would like to overnight guests. Instead, I often invite people over for meals. There’s jus something about sharing a meal, you know? Picnics, movie nights, game nights, potlucks, I love ‘em.

Last fall, my roommate and I hosted Thanksgiving at our condo. It was the first time to host for either of us, and on this particular morning, I woke up, had some breakfast, and then stuck my hand in the turkey’s neck cavity to pull out its guts and shove in some stuffing. We made pie and friend brought sides. We gathered friends and friends of friends, Thanksgiving orphans all. We ate too much, did Thanksgiving crafts, and played Frisbee in the park. It was lovely. The best part was stopping everything to just be.

If you end up at my house for a gathering, there won’t be a whole lot of “theme-ing”. There probably won’t be streamers or balloons or pennants or fancy centerpieces or a color palette. Jars, fresh flowers, twine, and paper napkins, yes. And good food.

Looking back, I’ve realized I don’t have any pictures to share of these events, because I don’t take any. It’s not my habit so it just doesn’t get done. To me, that’s a great time- when you’re so engrossed by lively conversation and togetherness that you forget to document it.

Having guests, or a being a guest, means sharing stories. Make a resolution to be a little more xenial this week. Share stories. Share life.

Resources for hosting: Kinfolk, a new magazine/blog. I like their style.  Simple, wholesome recipes from the author of “Clean Start”. I aspire to eat like this all the time. Also: make pizza with friends. Everyone brings something from their fridge for a topping and someone buys beer. It is acceptable to buy the crust. Trust me, it’s awesome. (Hint: sprinkle the baking sheet with a lot of cornmeal to avoid sticking.)

* xenagogue (guide; someone who conducts strangers) xylopolist (one who sells wood), xanthous (yellow or red-haired), xenodocheionology  (love of hotels) , xenomania (inordinate attachment to foreign things), xerophytic (able to withstand drought)

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Posted in Guest Bloggers

Tagged

Unemployed

Posted on July 22, 2011 | 1 Comment

Follow Julia on Twitter! @juliadrewniak

About the Author: Despite her label, guest blogger Julia remains an upbeat, resourceful postgrad with scads of energy and media know-how (Seriously, someone hire her!). It’s no secret that unemployment and underemployment is a serious problem for us millennials.  Still, some select few like Julia are taking initiative and creating their own opportunities in this economy. Julia, we’re a fan of your moxy. Keep it up!

After a week of reading what the members of Life in Labels do on a daily basis, I definitely feel like a slacker. My days consist of a combination of the following:

  • Waking up… whenever
  • Surfing the web, catching up on FB updates, YouTube, and thedailywh.at
  • Reading (Maybe)
  • More internet
  • Figuring out what to eat (Is it too late for breakfast? Too early for lunch? What food can I make?!)
  • Possibly accompanying my mother on errands around town
  • The rare times I make dinner (which usually consists of me grilling something meaty)
  • Watching drama re-runs or summer-only favorites  (So You Think You Can Dance is my OBSESSION!)
  • Listening to music until I’m too tired to stay up any later

And then I do the very same, day after day, with some rare vacations thrown in.

I’m not a COMPLETE slacker. I really am trying to find a job. With  the unemployment rate at 9.2% and with no change in site, things aren’t looking too hot.

Step back to my last semester in college, when I realize that I should probably start putting some effort into finding employment of some sort for when I graduated. This realization came from that fact that my graduating housemates and friends had solid plans of what they were going to do while I… only had temporary summer projects. Fantastic.So I was spurred by this desperate need to “FIGURE OUT MY LIFE” (and a class documentary I was doing on my “job search”). However, even as I walked down the Lawn at UVA, I was still clueless as to what I would do after my summer in Charlottesville was over.

Yes, I am a nerd filming my walk down the lawn. Where that footage is now, however, is beyond me

So I stayed in Charlottesville over the summer, doing media stuff (surprise?!) and hanging out with my friends. This gave me a little taste of what it would be like to live in the “real world” as my parents, while they generously gave me some money, I was responsible for my rent and bills. Not fun when your whole paycheck goes towards things like that. At the end, even though I’d applied for a bunch of positions, I hadn’t heard back from anything.

Fortunately, my brother, had sent me a last minute application for *PAID* internships with WETA in Arlington, not too far from where I would be living at my parents house. While the rest of my friends chatted about out summer activities, I applied for the position and ended up having a telephone interview, landing the job.

Some of you may argue “Julia, that’s work! You haven’t been unemployed since you graduated! And you had a paid internship, more than a lot of people in your situation.” Yes, I was lucky. However, at $10 a day (where I worked full-time), not counting commuting costs, it was still pretty rough. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my time working at Brainline.org. But since then, I really haven’t been able to find work.

Of course, while unemployment has its downside (which I will get to shortly), for me it has had it’s advantages. For me, the time off (and the flexibility of my superiors at Brainline.org, of which I’m eternally grateful) was very helpful. While I was still working as an intern I inexplicably contracted minimal change disease.  Not only was that unusual in itself (as it usually peaks around age 8!) but my steroid medicine didn’t seem to be working. I eventually ended up in the hospital over Christmas and New Years, and after switching nephrologists (kidney doctors) I found out I had m.c.d. that didn’t respond to steroids (yet again another rarity). If I had been employed at a regular job, my insurance might not have been able to cover all the expenses that were necessary to find the right solution, or I might have been fired because of my frequent absences due to adverse medication reactions, and doctor/hospital trips.

Now that I’m back to normal (having lost the 50lbs I gained in water weight among other things), I’ve been taking the time off to enjoy the benefits of summer. Not gonna lie, being able to do (almost) whatever I want is awesome.

Of course, the “almost” comes from the fact that I’m unemployed, because this has lead to me being A) Without extra spending $$ B) At points, very bored.

The most difficult aspect of being unemployed is keeping up morale. Even though I know I’d be a wonderful addition to any company (as evidenced by previous employment) at points I worry that I took the wrong education path in college, that I don’t really have any employable skills, and that I’m basically never going to find a job. But my good friend Lauren gave some great advice: “Don’t give up! Explore every opportunity, keep every door open. Networking will save you every time.” Encouragement and support from friends and family is really what keeps me going.

So, if you’re unemployed, what can you do?

  • DO use your time wisely while unemployed. Volunteering is always a great option, as it gives you something to do, you’re able to help others, and you get references/experience. Another great option is to learn a new skill that could make you a more valuable employee. Since I wasn’t able to learn about web programming while at my internship, I’ve picked up a few books to try to learn some skills on my own.
  • DO create a positive online persona. Many companies now-a-days do an online check of your social media history. So go ahead, buy a domain made out of your name and make a valuable resource for potential employers. Of course, one of the most important things you can do is balance the “you” you want employers to see and the “real you”. Sometimes the “real you” on social media can lead to some serious consequences, so make sure what you’re putting out there is what you want others to see. As Dan Klamm, from Syracuse University Career Services says “A positive attitude & collegial spirit are important. People don’t like people who complain and grumble 24/7”
  • DO follow job leads on Twitter There are many Twitter accounts devoted to helping individuals land the perfect job. Some post jobs, others offer direct advice and articles. Check out your college career services & alumni career services to see if they have social media presences. While I highly recommend Twitter, make sure to check out LinkedIn, Facebook, etc.
  • Set time aside to work on applications I’ll be one of the first to tell you that applying for jobs online can be tedious and time consuming, particularly when you have a lot of personal information to fill in. If you don’t, you might end up like me, with a ton of links to possible jobs but never quite getting to the point of filling them out. Make a goal of applying to X amount of jobs in X amount of time.
  • Use your contacts to help you find a job These people are your greatest resources. For me, this is evidenced by the fact my brother helped me land my great internship. Tell everyone you know that you’re looking for work, and ask for their help. Besides my brother, a former colleague and friend Gretel constantly sends me job leads. While not all of them may be a fit for you, eventually you may end up with something worthwhile.

Just stay busy, keep your profile/resume/social media presence updated, and continue the search. I mean, if worse comes to worse you can join me at the beach and we can open up a frozen banana stand.

As long as I can be Mr. Manager, I promise to never make you wear a banana costume.

There’s always money in the banana stand!



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Posted in Guest Bloggers

Tagged

Bridezilla

Posted on June 17, 2011 | 7 Comments

"It's MY day!"

About the author: Under conditions of anonymity (so as not to tarnish her usually angelic reputation), this guest blogger  agreed to  give us normal folk advice on how to love, honor and obey a quintessential bridezilla. Read her words carefully and take heed. It’s only a joke until someone gets hurt…

Bridezillas are seriously misunderstood creatures. We are often mislabeled as selfish, demanding, and impossible. In reality, we are lovable (Obviously, it’s a wedding!), detail-oriented delegators who recognize the need to hold others accountable for their actions. Bridesmaids, family members, and friends must educate themselves on how to respond to a bridezilla encounter so that they are prepared to cater to her every need. Please recognize that we all want the same thing: Periwinkle blue hand-written invitations in 16th century calligraphic script… and world peace.

Spotting a bridezilla is the first step towards survival. Bridezillas can be identified in their natural habitat by a full head of hot rollers and a cloud of aqua net only a 1960s era flight attendant could appreciate. While this basic description can easily be mistaken for “old woman,” you will know better when you trip across a true case. See that steam emanating from the bridezilla’s ears? That’s not her hot rollers. It’s a result of blood-boiling rage.

There are several strategies that can help you survive a bridezilla encounter:

First, beware of her lies. The bridezilla mastered the art of deception in the womb. Any words that come out of her mouth should be taken with caution. You need to realize that her level of thinking is different  than yours (as in much higher). So, when a bridezilla says something like “It’s my day,” you’ll know that it’s a lie. It’s not her day at all. It’s her year, year and a half, or two years depending on how long the engagement lasts (and longer still if she’s already started planning for her 50th anniversary vow renewal). A phrase like  “Do what you think is best,” is a trap. It translates loosely into “Do what I’ve already told you to do, you idiot.”  After all, bridezillas don’t make multi-page itineraries so YOU can make the decisions. Only she knows best.

After recognizing her lies, lie right back to the bridezilla. Telling the ‘zilla a little white wedding lie will keep her happy and keep you from getting eaten alive. If a guest doesn’t show up after she’s already paid $150 a plate, just lie. You saw them at the ceremony and later in the restroom at the reception! Photoshop them into a group shot then buy her an expensive gift in their name. If the ring bearer peed his pants, just lie. His rental tux was upgraded to include a touch of yellow to match the flowers–what smell?

When in doubt, run and hide! There are a few cases where no level of appeasement can improve a bridezilla situation and your best response is to cut and run. If the DJ introduces the hokie pokie as a favorite song of the University of Virgina, run – don’t walk -  to the nearest exit. That Hokie Bridezilla you are leaving behind has already begun killing the DJ and you don’t have time to witness the crime. If you are said DJ and you realize the error of your ways a moment too late, also run as fast as you can because that bridezilla will never forgive you. Send a full refund to her in the mail with no return address.

Bridezillas: It takes one to know one.

In my experience as a bridezilla, I was always right. When everything fell into place, it was because I had a plan. When everything fell apart, it was someone else’s fault. Don’t be a victim. The bridezilla is only trying to establish a way for everyone to get along…her way.

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Advice to Newlyweds

Posted on June 16, 2011 | 1 Comment

About the Author: Donna is the mother of Lori and has been happily married for almost 33 years. She is an avid reader of Life in Labels, which she fits into her busy schedule of reminding a 19 year old boy to do his laundry, cooking for Lori’s upcoming graduation party, hitting the gym with her husband, and speaking on the phone to her identical twin sister daily. Oh, and she’s also a notary public, a paralegal, and works in title insurance. Supermom much?

It was February, 1976, when I met my future husband.  We had a terrible first date to a car show which included seven of his closet friends.  I was intrigued by his choice of where a first date should be held and with whom.

I don’t remember all of  our subsequent dates, but rather remember hours of talking.  We were similar and different at the same time.  We became engaged after only dating six months (though we didn’t officially tell our parents for another year) since we were so young.

We started our lives together as husband and wife on October 29, 1978 and became a family.  We got married to stay married.  There was never a thought of “if this doesn’t work out”.  Our success in our marriage was due to a lot of work.  We both knew that issues in a marriage were personal and to be resolved by us not extended family or friends.

Looking back at our marriage these 33 years, I realized that relationships are not constant and must be nurtured in order to thrive.  Being a couple first reinforces the strength of the marriage bond.  The success of the marriage is paramount in order to have success in raising a family together.

My advice to a newlywed is to never forget to act like a dating couple.  Have respect for your spouse and your marriage.    

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The Bride’s Advice

Posted on June 14, 2011 | 5 Comments

About the Author: Nichole is a friend of Lauren, Lori, and Denise from high school. She was the first of our friends to get married, and now lives in Richmond with her husband and adorable little girl. Everyone we know already blog stalks her, but if you’re going to insist on pretending that you don’t, you can see her blog here.

life in labels wedding week

When people ask me about my wedding and for wedding planning tips the first thing I usually say is, “Don’t stress about all the little details because you won’t remember any of it at all!” I usually describe my wedding day as a blur because I’ve experienced wedding day memory loss. Literally. I can’t remember much of that day at all! All my memories come from my pictures. (Note: In order to capture all those moments you were oblivious to, one thing to stress over and spend some money on is good photography.)

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t a miserable day (at least…I don’t think it was!). I just feel like I was drugged. I would like to think that is the result of how extremely happy I was—a state of utter bliss—and that therefore, I missed things because I was just in my own “la de de…everything’s perfect” world. While this is likely, because I was happy, I think the real culprit of the wedding day memory loss phenomenon, which all brides (and even grooms) can attest to, is a combination of pre-wedding day anxiety and complete wedding day exhaustion.

I mean, who really gets good sleep the night before they are getting married? Although I was confident in my decision, I felt like I was holding my breath for the whole week leading up to my wedding. I was a basket case of nerves and emotions! It was so stressful fussing over flowers, bridesmaid’s dresses, reception décor, food, families, photography, colors, cake etc, etc … only to not remember all those details and then later stew over how I should have changed this or that.

Factor number two in the wedding day memory loss phenomenon is pure exhaustion! The lack of sleep and all the pre wedding stress all comes crashing down on you after the wedding. You can finally take a huge breath of relief and then all you want to do is crash (at least I did, after I threw up a few times!).

I find it hilarious that the best day of your life is filled with the following:

  • Standing on your feet most the day
  • Taking a million pictures until your mouth hurts from smiling (truly)
  • Eating at a table in front of everyone (whose idea was that?) That is, if you’re lucky to eat anything at all.
  • Fiddling with your hair and makeup all day to make sure you look just right
  • Not to mention the pressure that comes from knowing everyone is checking out how you look in your dress
  • Making blubbering, sappy, and later regretful speeches.
  • Greeting a million guests (half of which you don’t know) who say the same thing and ask the same questions
  • Temperature which are usually less that pleasant (summer weddings anyone?)
  • Stuffing not tasty cake in each other’s faces
  • A car that’s “decorated” (aka totally trashed) by your friends
  • The awkwardness of everyone knowing what you will be doing that night…and some even commenting on it. (Hello!? My grandma is standing right next to me!)

Really? Why do we put ourselves through all this? We feel pressured to pack in these sometimes trite ceremonies (ie: bouquet toss, garter retrieval) to an already fully-packed day.

Cake Cutting Wedding

And why? (cue the Fiddler on the Roof music) because of tradition!!! Humm..tradition. Maybe tradition is a good enough reason. Maybe the wedding is not all about the bride! (Whaaat?) But, it is about family, and celebrating the beginning of a journey. It’s about letting my wonderful parents celebrate the marriage of their daughter with everyone they have ever met…even if I haven’t met them. It’s about sharing tears and laughter as you see friends and family grow. I personally love attending weddings, so maybe that’s what weddings are for. Is that why we stress, worry, and tire? For everyone else?  We create our own crazy day “all about us” for others to come enjoy and celebrate? (Hey- at least you come out in the end with some gifts!)

family wedding

Overall, I would say a crazy exhausting day is a small price to pay to have a day that you may not remember, but you can feel how special it was. I do love celebrating our anniversary. The day we became us and will be forever. Okay, I guess that day wasn’t so bad after all! ;)

wedding, bountiful temple

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Half-Sister

Posted on June 10, 2011 | 1 Comment

Amy, thank you for contributing! You make us feel classy and cultured.

About the author: Our super-extra-special guest blogger Amy is from Ireland (and is as big a Taylor Swift fan as this picture would have you think).  She’ll be graduating law school in Cork this fall and hopefully starting a postgraduate degree then too. She spends a lot of her time plotting ways to move to warmer climates and blogging narcissistically at amycoleman.tumblr.com. She’s super excited to be contributing to Life in Labels from across the pond (but not half excited as we are)!

When you think about halvsies, what do you think about? I think about counting out candies so each of us would have the same amount or splitting the cost of birthday presents for my friends.

The results of Ireland’s 2011 census, completed nationwide on April 11th, will provide statistics which show that approximately one in three children is born outside of marriage. It will show that over 11% of family units are cohabiting couples, with or without children. It will show that the marital breakdown rate in this country stands at around 13%, leading to a high probability of second marriages and subsequently, an increase in the number of step- and half-siblings. It will show, once again, that there is a crippling lack of recognition in this country for people outside the state’s definition of what constitutes normality.

I’m staying with my dad and my step-mom on the census night this year. Their house is about three hours away from where I live and go to school. Question 3 on the Irish census asks me for my relationship to persons 1-4. One is dad, two’s my stepmom. There’s no option for half-sibling, so I tick ‘brother or sister’ and move on.

People ask me sometimes, “How did you end up normal!?” and while I’m never sure whether to feel complimented or insulted, there’s a certain amount of truth in there. My parents were little more than children when they were catapulted onto the incessant treadmill of parenthood and, twenty-two years later, they are still in their very early forties and we’ve all lived a lot of life. I’d always wanted siblings, having grown up a bookish only child badly in need of some sibling companionship (and some social adeptness too) but when the following years saw the dissolution of my parents relationship and their creating new ones, I realised maybe I was destined for only-childdom.

I got lucky and my half-sister was born a few months before my 10th birthday. She’s terrific. She just got braces on her teeth, which she hates wearing. She wears purple converses and parts her hair to the side. We paint our nails and go shopping and feel the same way about Taylor Swift. Our brother is 8 and wishes he had a younger brother he could boss around. He humiliates me at soccer and Wii Sports and we read Harry Potter together before bed when I come to visit.

“You wouldn’t understand,” an acquaintance said, as we talked in a group of friends about sibling relations, “You’re an only child!”

I feel like the concept of family has evolved so much that a view like this is antiquated. My brother talks about his two sisters, and when anybody asks me, I say I’m the oldest of three. It’s not hesitated, and I don’t have to think about whether I should explain myself or not. I’m not sure whether the census form was being conciliatory to Ireland’s half-siblings, or whether it just left us out. While the state refuses to make proper provision for its de-facto families, I’ll wait for change. What I do know is that even though I may not have grown up with my siblings, this does not make a fraction of our relationship. We argue about what’s on TV when we’re together and who’s going to walk the dog. When they’re older and have their own money, we’ll go halvsies, maybe even thirdsies, on birthday presents for our parents.

If we were a fraction, we’d be a whole number: three.

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