Where is the Motivation?

 

I haven’t worked out in over a week. I swear I can feel my adipose tissue taking up more fat as I write this. What is it about my body that is rejecting the workouts that once fueled me? I used to never miss a workout. I would miss dinner dates, happy hours, birthdays, and even work because I simply had to work out. I even started working out in the morning as soon as I got up so that way I would ensure I got it done. Where did the healthy obsession go?

I love the way exercising makes me feel and no matter how little I want to want to go I feel awesome (and thinner) immediately after. So what is stopping me from getting back in it? I don’t want to use those same lame excuses lazy people make to make themselves feel better about taking such little care of themselves. You know the ones…” I don’t have time” “I’m too tired” “I hate exercising”. I have a rebuttal for each of these and would go as far as to say them outloud to myself if I dared to utter any of them. In which case I’d be answering myself and in which case I’d be fatter and crazier.

 The time one bugs me the most. You can always find time to work out. Do it first thing in the morning like I used to or break up your workouts to 10 minutes throughout the day 3 or 4 times. This could be going up and down stairs, jumping jacks, carrying groceries, mowing the lawn or even sex. ( see exercise can be fun!) I’m hating that I literally don’t have the time for kickboxing anymore since my school and work schedule conflict with the gym times. I can pick that back up when my semester’s over.  Sometimes I try to convince myself that I’m exercising when I walk from my car to the office I work in. Then I realize if that people considered that a workout, it would explain America’s obesity problem.

My eating hasn’t fell completely off, at least. Nutrition is without a doubt much more important than exercise in terms of a healthy body weight. That’s not to say, however, that exercise is pointless. In all of my DPD courses, I learn that almost all diseases can possibly be prevented with exercise. It makes your bones strong, teaches your cells to use energy and produces good feeling endorphins. So if you can’t afford therapy and prozac, jogging is a good substitute. However, coming back to my point about food, since writing my last entry on eating healthier I have eaten good again. And it was simply because I felt more accountable. I couldn’t let the faithful readers of my blog down (All 3 of you).

I’ve thought about starting an exercise journal. I could write what I did for my body that day. I’ve also been observing the kids in my class that I teach.  The Dietician and I started an after-school fitness class for children in which we do an hour of nutrition followed by an hour of activity. I noticed that when those kids are having fun they don’t even realize how many calories their cute chubby butts are burning. I have to find a way to make exercise fun again. I did order a new pair of running sneakers. Usually that seems to work. Fashion drives us all doesn’t it? Sigh. I miss shopping. I hate having no money. But I’ll save that for another day.

My boyfriend suggested us joining a gym together because he needs motivation to get in there too. When I was single and couples brought up that they worked out together I couldn’t help but picture them in matching bicycle shorts and corny T-shirts with tightly laced sneakers and higher-than-should-be ankle socks showing. But after I thought about it, it does make sense. I’ve been working out alone for years, but maybe it’d be cooler to have someone pushing you or someone I know won’t go unless I push them. But I swear if he wears high socks to the gym, I’m breaking up with him.

“People often say motivation doesn’t last. Well, neither does bathing. That’s why you do it daily”

A Midterm, a Baby and a Gay Brother

I don’t know about all of you, but this week has been a mentally exhausting one for me. I think it began when I realized what a doucebag my microbiology teacher is. I think I can say, with confidence, I will never grow E.Coli bacteria on purpose for the rest of my life. The stress in my life makes me hug the bowl enough; I don’t need microorganisms playing a role too. But unfortunately, MicroBio is a required class. Last week our teacher smiled through the class, emphasizing how he’ll show us all the questions in advance and how it’s hard to fail his course. He then posted a 12-page paper of possible questions in essay form. Are you fucking kidding me? It’s like he politely smiled while saying “you’re all going to fail, losers.”

In addition to the probability that he has no sex or social life, my teacher must have a real sick sense of humor because the test is on 8 chapters of this bacteria crap like how they reproduce, eat, shit, etc. Needless to say my social life is becoming as fun as his because I have nothing else to do but study all day, everyday if I want to get a decent grade.

Then one of my best friend’s went into labor. This was a good thing. But it went on for all of 3 days before they ended it in a c-section. But she did finally give birth to a beautiful baby girl named Vitina Angela that I can say is a new love of my life. It’s amazing to hold something so tiny, so innocent and know you love it already. I can only imagine how her parents feel.

While all this was going on, I was getting over a rough patch with my boyfriend. Relationships have this habit of getting real in the middle of nowhere. The infatuation stage wears of and you become exposed. Things that you wouldn’t have dared said a word about in the beginning become a “I can’t remember to be mad about this later”. This is usually something stupid and meaningless like leaving the toilet seat up. By the way, men that may read this, I’m aware of the immense effort it requires to take a piss in which you must unzip and pee (you all don’t even have the extra step of sitting and wiping that we do) but if you could somehow, someway manage to reserve some energy to put the toilet seat back down women would appreciate it.

Sometimes the issues are bigger and to my experience usually happen when one party feels unappreciated. Usually you hold it in hoping the other person will just get it until you end up having an argument over the most minor thing that couldn’t matter because you’re really mad about something else. That my friend, is called being passive aggressive. I think if men were just more romantic(buying your girlfriend something for no reason other than to show her you’re thinking of her is OK I promise) and women gave their guy a chance to just be who he is, the divorce rate might go down.  Whatever shit happens, we’re OK now but it’s hard when you’re overcoming it and not sure how it will play out.

Then the most exhausting part of my week came. It was Sunday. My brother who is my best friend in this whole world came up from college to see me. And tell me that he is gay. My reactions are the same that you’ve heard -”I guess somehow I always knew…””there was signs..” bla bla. Those all pertain to me. I guess I should mention that I am a bit of a parental figure to my brother due to the manner in which we grew up, so it hits me very hard. It’s hard to explain why it even hit me so hard. I’m not ashamed of him; he’s maintained his identity. He doesn’t feel the need to act a certain way because of his sexual preference. He doesn’t let it define him. He’s still in every way, my brother and my best friend. But I can’t bear the thought of his life being harder. How do you accept what’s somewhat unacceptable in our society? How can you say homosexuality is “wrong” or a sin when someone tells you they have just been that way their entire life since they can remember? That means they are born that way and maybe we should review what we consider of the norm in society.

My brother told me he felt that a giant weight had been lifted off his shoulders. His biggest burden wasn’t accepting he was gay- it was me accepting it. He’s comfortable in his skin and his confidence in himself is so great that other people read it and know nothing is “wrong” with him. It’s a lot to soak in and I know it will be a process of us rebuilding our relationship now that I know 100% of him. I’m proud of his courage and it inspires me to be myself everyday. I’ve begun to reconsider my beliefs in the human race, society and the power of love.

My main concern is that he is happy, healthy and working hard to be the man he is capable of. If that involves him wearing assless chaps and glow sticks while listening to “let’s get soak n wet” house mix so be it. Totally kidding.

“Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind”

Please, shut up.

I’ve been thinking a lot about  boundaries this week. People constantly tell me way too much information . Sometimes it’s patients at work , who not only need to make an appointment but also talk to me about their slow bowel movements, other times it’s kids in my office that have to point out exactly many bugars they feel is in their nose at this moment. I’m a good listener which more recently is becoming a fault and not a good trait. Anyone who can’t find someone to listen finds that I do and starts pouring out their heart to me.

This includes a friend from school, whom I’ll call “Paula” who has been telling me the deep dark secrets of her life. I’m the kind of person that likes do what I have to do and get the hell out and live my life. If I wanted my life to revolve around school or work,  believe me I would’ve stayed in corporate and joined the army of women there that haven’t gotten laid in months.

But I left that life and I get that now I’m part-time worker and back in college,  so I’ve opened myself into the dangers of bored women that gossip. But Paula is a women in need. Of what? I don’t know I’m studying health through nutrition not mentally. But she is in need of something. She very clearly has an eating disorder of some sort. She has a long-term realtionship, but I get the feeling (mainly because she told me) that she’s unhappy. It seems like she grew up in a house with too many boundaries. She comes off very sheltered and like sshe’s experiencing the world for the first time. People like that grow up and try to see how many boundaries they can now cross. Temptation is amplified to them in ways that other people can’t understand. She’s decided to share these temptations in her life with me.

I see her almost everyday so it leaves me in an awkward place. We have a lot of breaks together too. She catches up to me when class is over and keeps me there later to talk about herself. In depth. I know I should be charging by the minute.She’s now suggested going to get a drink outside of school. However, I don’t have twenty-something years of bad behavior to make up for. For me, it’s quite the opposite. I’d prefer her not trying to make out with me at 2am because she’s had 2 margaritas and she wants to make up for not going away to college and pledging a sorority.

I remember my old job, my boss and I definitely crossed boundaries. No, you filthy minded animals we did NOT sleep together. But we became very close. I knew what was going on with the business before anyone else. I knew who was getting fired way before they did, and I knew a month before the official announcement that our department was being shut down. Whenever we went away for business we ended up taking our clients out and partying until the wee hours on the morning. This to me, was a way better reason to get paid then going to a bunch of boring ass seminars. On one specific trip to Boston, I ended up doing 8 shots of patron at a bar and threw up out the window of the cab on the ride home with my boss. Good times.

Sorry- ADD again. My point was it could be fun to become close with people at school or work. But this feels different-this could become a problem. The problem is when you’re a people pleaser like me it’s hard to give people boundaries. I’m always the one people are calling for hours and hours of advice. I’ve been drained to the point where I couldn’t even have the energy to talk to my boyfriend about our own days because I was wiped out from hearing about everyone else’s.

So comes the important question-where do you draw the line? Where’s the line between being  a good friend and being a pushover? From people needing you to people using you? Who will stay on the phone with you for hours when you need it? And being someone who won’t ever ask for it, are your relationships ever equal?

I even started to relate my complex thoughts to nutrition. People don’t know how to draw the line between hunger and overindulgence; which usually leads to the unhealthy eating behaviors I’ve sought to correct. What if people could stop and think about things-wouldn’t that make these invisible lines more…visible?

If I could stop and think “this workout is going to make my hips smaller” or “I don’t need seconds” I’d probably drop 10 more pounds.  If other people could stop and think – “I’ve asked this person’s advice for hours, days, months, maybe I should talk about something else”, people’s outlooks and relationships might change.

We’re always so busy thinking about our needs-we should try to think of other people. Try to make someone else happy today-it might change your entire mood. And it might give me a fuckin’ break.

”A gossip is someone who talks about you to others, a bore is someone who talks to you about himself, and a brillant conversationalist is one who talks to you about yourself”

Are you fatter if you’re busier?

Ironically, since I’ve started school working out is becoming less and less of a priority. I say this is ironic because I’m studying health and nutrition and all that stuff that’s supposed to help me help other people stay skinny and I can’t stand the thought of dragging my ass on the treadmill the way I used to. It also seems that my eating habits are suffering as well. I’m not eating “badly” ( you’ll still never catch me in a fast-food drive thru) but I’m definitely eating less and I see a major difference in my energy level. It seems that no one is safe from the demands of life and the effects it has on your health.

Food surrounds my every thought. I grew up in a house where I was not allowed to leave to go to school no matter how late I was unless I ate breakfast. I can actually recall sitting there mindlessly shoving Cinnamon Toast Crunch (those was the shhhhheeeeet!) in my mouth. My father was from Egypt, so the dishes at home were real hearty. Lots of lamb, lots and lots of rice,chicken, meats. All carbs were welcome. And it’s considered a sin to waste food in Egypt, so instead of cooking just the right portion, the better idea is to cook enough for a football team when there’s only 4 of us and have Cindy eat all the leftovers. My father’s explanation was that we have enough if someone came over. In all the years I’ve been alive someone has yet to unexpectadly stop by my house at dinner time, stay and eat. Thankfully, even though my father’s behavior could be likened to that of the witch from Hansel & Gretel,  I remained slim for the better part of my life-but I also got an insatiable appetite.

When I reached about 19 that appetite started to go to my child-bearing hips (thanks again, Egypt!). I was never overweight or “fat” but my weight fluctuated about 15-20 pounds. Dieting was never an option. I loved food way too much. Giving up alcohol was never an option, I loved my Scotch and Vodka way too much back then. If the choice was a drunken weekend or a thinner ass- I was about to buy a bigger jean size (I never said I made the best decisions). My weight would just naturally come on and off, I didnt really put too much effort into it.  When I was about 22, I just decided to make a few changes. I gave up soda, fried food, and  fast-food. ItI noticed an automatic change in my appeitite. I was fuller when not eating that crap. Those changes made a major difference in how my body felt-so I never went back to drinking soda or eating fried, greasy, fast food and I can confidently say I never will.

I know I’m totally about to sound like a snob-but one of my pet-peeves is people eating fast food. They just look like the most depressed, saddest people. The almost always sigh before they unwrap their artery clogging meal as if they know they’re punishing their body. Then they barely get a breath in as they inhale their grade d beef, cheese substitution and refined carb. It’s sad to see. I want to take them home and cook them a nice meal.

But I defer from my point (can you notice I have slight ADD yet?). After the changes I made, I got more interested in nutrition. Then I got into working out. I never saw a drastic difference in body tone until I started studying for the GMATs and gave up drinking and started doing weights. So since then it’s been faithful exercising, because of the feel good feeling it gives me and eating 5-6 meals a day. Because I’m always hungry. Oh and I don’t hit the booze often anymore. After reading this out loud, I’m not sure if my life is more depressing or less.

Then, I enrolled in college to further my knowledge of food and nutrition and here I am writing a blog about how somehow my healthy habits are being compromised due to me going to school to learn more about healthy eating. I’m just so exhausted after logging in hours of studying and making time for my relationship and friends. I feel like a fat failure and need to write about my feelings like the emotional fatty I’ve become. Anyone reading this who is devoted to treating their body right can attest to the depressed feeling the get when they haven’t worked out. There is nothing like the feeling I get after a good run or kickboxing. It increases endorphins, helps with concentration and is a great stress reliever. I know all this, yet cannot get myself back into the “zone”. I imagine there’s hundreds of people that must feel this way everyday. But I should know better.

I get that the demands of our life, as I’m seeing first hand, can effect our habits in a negative way. I recall it being difficult to eat healthy when I worked corporate; but it wasn’t impossible. It just takes being aware of the wrongs you’re doing and trying to find ways to incorporate healthy eating into your life. I made a promise to myself today to start getting back on track. I started my day with half a cup of oatmeal, sprinkled with flax and strawberries with 1/2 cup of OJ. That was at 10 AM and I’m still full at 12:30. I brought almonds, an apple, and a KASHI bar with me to keep up my energy levels. And of course, coffee. There is no life without that sweet, sweet jolt of caffeine in the morning.(NO ADDED SUGAR!). Start your day with complex carbs, protein and some fiber and keep that going throughout the day. Another option could hav been to put no-carb protein mix in my oatmeal-try it! Try eating these types of meals throughout the day and you’re less likely to be one of the people I’m judging in a McDonald’s window.

” Tell me what you eat, I’ll tell you who you are.”

A new chapter

I stumbled upon my old wordpress account the other day and forgot why I had stopped writing. I love to write and it’s way cheaper than therapy. So I decided I’d simply have to take it up again-but I struggled with writer’s block. Things have changed in my life since I started writing and titled my blog “Unemployed and Single”. I’m still technically unemployed; but no longer single. That’s right America, the recession has actually outlasted my fear of commitment. I changed career paths and now have a whole bunch of new shit to complain about. I guess I’ll start from last November, the date of my last entry.

I went on that random trip to Europe with complete strangers on Thanksgiving last year and had an amazing time. I traveled through Italy, France and Spain for a couple of weeks. Gotta tell you though-it was nothing like Eat, Prey, Love. I thought I’d be on this amazing journey where I met people speaking in Italian to me, taking me under their wing, feeding me and that I’d have some epiphany along the way and realize my calling.

Yea, none of that happened. The people in Rome are actually quite snobby and I had to clutch my purse so tight to my side to prevent pickpocketing that I felt like a cheap old lady in a discount store weary of the “yongsters” eyeing her purse which has all of $12 in quarters and some Sweet N Low packets.

The food in Italy was not that good. Yea I said it (take that Ms. Gilbert). There was little to no variety. The only thing I throughly enjoyed was the gelato. I’m a gelato queen. Ah I can just taste the nutella flavor now-that amazing creamy hazelnut and chocolate blend in a little frozen cup. How can you not love it? I’m actually sad when I look at the cup and there’s nothing left in it. But I defer with my fat moment.

I was born and raised in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. There is an Italian speciality store on every corner and you can get authentic Italian food at any restaurant at anytime, although the majority of the Italian food I ate was usually prepared by my friend’s parents. I expected that going to the Motherland I’d be served the same food, but better. To the disappointment of my stomach, Rome mainly just had little shops that served paninis or pasta. And the sauce was mediocre at best. Sorry Rome, you just didn’t do it for me. Ah, well better I didn’t come home a fat ass. Nothing cute about being fat, unemployed and single. I will however have to say that from an architecture standpoint there it nothing in the world like Rome. It’s amazing. The vatican was unlike anything I’d even seen. And to actually see the David sculpture in Florence was pretty cool too.

After starving in Italy, I was off to France where the food was definitely  better.And the people were SUPER nice. Totally not what I expected. I was served warm little chocolate croissants for free just because the owner of a  little shop was that nice. She was also super helpful in telling my new -found friends and I where to visit on the rest of our days in Nice. We then went down to the water and rented rollerblades and bikes. It looked like a scene out of the Brady Bunch without a doubt. As cheesy as it was, it was really, really nice. The sun hit the Mediterranean waters at a perfect angle and you could see 4 different shades of blue. Everyone was out with their lover, or children. I was actually with a bunch of Australians I barely knew. But we all hit off great. After France, I went off to Spain where I fell in love. With the Paella, not a man.

After coming home and being able to check “explore Europe” off my things to do before I die list, I sat down and started to really ponder about what the hell it was I wanted from life. Corporate America was clearly not working for me and everyday I thought if I even wanted to be back in that world. I was still interviewing to keep my options open but I wanted to re-find that passion I wrote a whole blog about. While I was in Egypt over the previous summer I had thought about becoming a nutritionist. I was giving my family there healthy eating habits. Especially my uncle. “No Ahmed, believe it or not Ghee is not healthy.” Ghee, by the way, is PURE fat. It’s used kind of the way we use butter here. I had educated myself a lot in the field, just for personal use, but had really become fascinated with how food affects our mind and bodies. Sharing that with other people made me feel good-it was effortless. But was I really ready to trade in my powersuits for lab coats? I didn’t know.

As I said before, I thought all these answer would come to me if I traveled. Turns out you can go thousands of miles away but you still got to face yourself when you get back home. Although my trip was amazing, I still had to come back home make the decisions the hard way(contrary to popular belief it actually takes alot of research, not some harp playing in the background and a lightbulb appearing on top of your head.) So I dedicated weeks to visiting schools, making pros and cons lists and “healing” myself.  I know this sounds like another cheesy How Stella Got her Groove Back Story, but I think everyone’s got a little Stella in them. Everyone gets lost sometime. Lost from their dreams, their values, themselves. It just happens day by day when you’re busy just trying to make a life. The important thing is you stop and reevaluate every so often. Think about where you came from, where you are and where it is you want to go.

I don’t like to think of it as a blueprint though. More like a suggested map route. The route you plan on isn’t always the one that happens-but I guess as long as you’re giving it your best everyday something, somehow will work out. That’s the attitude I adapted and decided to go back to school. I couldn’t bear the thought of another day being told what to do , or how much I was worth. I wanted to make my own decisions, my own money and do something that I truly, truly loved everyday. So I said Fuck it. This is it I’m going to go back to school and becoming a successful nutritionist.

A week before I was set to start school, Cablevision called me and offered me an Account Executive position. If this wasn’t a metaphor for a fork in the road I don’t know what is. It was like I was literally staring down two paths. One road was familiar and predictable. The old, corporate life where money was steady and I had that intangible feeling of power. I knew I did my job well and I could start to climb the ladder again. Then there was this unknown road. I would be going into something completely new and would have to start all over again. I decided that I wanted to take a chance on myself. I turned Cablevision down.

So that’s where the blogs come in. I’m in my second semester and know I made the right choice. Well, I think I did anyway. How can you ever really know? I gave up summer nights of drinking and dancing til the sun comes up for chemistry. I even started to dream that I was a real life nerd equipped with a calculator on my belt and suspenders-true story. I still don’t have a steady source of income and honestly I’m not sure of much right now. I’m not sure when I will be making money again, how much I will make or how much more hard work it will be until I’m in a place where I can be my own boss.  Depressing? Yes. But it’s equally exciting.

Til my next entry!

“Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending”

The Lack of Passion

I haven’t blogged in quite a few days. I got yet another rejection letter from that “company B” that I was interviewing for. I was hoping to get the Account Executive position which I’m beyond qualified for. I was put through an hour-long phone interview, followed by a request to submit 3 writing samples, followed by a 2-hour long meeting with 2 Directors, and then followed by another 2-hour long meeting with the CEO and yet another Director.

I should have gotten a merit for keeping so much personality for so long. Anyway, I got an e-mail (this one was short and sweet) that while they were impressed with my background and skills bla bla they decided to go with someone who had more PR experience.  Well don’t you just suck. I mean, really, what a cocktease. These companies makes you think you have the job in the bag and then hit you with a “we’re looking for someone with more experience…” THAT’S WHAT RESUMES AND COVER LETTERS ARE FOR!

Ugh-anyway. I was upset for a second and then I realized…I didn’t really WANT that job. It would have just been a job. Even though my bank account is depleting as we speak I don’t want to take a job just to have a job. I’ve worked miserable jobs and they feel like jail sentences to me.  I’m obviously still looking for a job because passion doesn’t pay for ’09 Maxima lease every month, but it got me to thinking.

I found myself going through old photos, letters, school assignments and boxes of alot of old shit. Besides realizing bangs were not a good look for me, I realized that along the way I lost my passion. I remembered doing things because I loved doing them and dating people because there was a connection. Take my first boyfriend, for example. I found dozens of letters from him. I didn’t care that he worked at the pharmacy and made $5 an hour or what kind of car he drove or sneakers he wore. We just liked each other and went purely on gut feelings. Even though it didn’t work out, that relationship was still the best, most genuine I’ve ever had. Passion should always drive us. Otherwise we’re kinda dead inside without it.

I wanted to be a veternarian when I was a kid because I loved animals.  I never said ” Gee I can’t wait to sell ads to big shot cable executives” (my last job). I know that it’s not logicial because as you get older, certain other things become more important like money and power. But what if we all held on to some little part of that? Do you think you’d be doing what you do today? When you were a  kid you only thought about doing what you loved and what made you happy. You ran because it made you feel liberated and it was the best feeling in the world, not because you think your ass is fat. And you know what? You totally ran quicker and faster when you did without thinking about it.

Anyway this might be a bunch of emotional crap I’m going through because I decided to take a stroll down memory lane, but it’s definitly something to think about it.

Did I mention I decided to, in the midst of my unemployment and borderline poverty, book a Eurotrip? Yep, I will be meeting with a bunch of total strangers in Rome and make our way  to Florence,La Speizia, Nice, French Riveria, Barcelona and ending in Madrid. I’m going alone, so I don’t know anyone. Let’s hope I find a little passion that I’ve lost on this trip!

‘Til Tomorrow!

“It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we can live without passion, maybe we’d know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we’d be truly dead.”

Raise your hand if you hate job interviews

So I went on my third interview since my lay off. I picked out my very fitting black high-waisted trousers, a crisp white button-down with black pumps and my Theory wool coat. I like to look money when I go on interviews. If you go on an interview in what can only be described as Orthopedic shoes you can kiss the job goodbye. Shoes will make or break your outfit on interviews and on dates. But that’s a whole other blog-I’ve gotten off course here.

Anyway, so I make my way to this interview for an Account Executive and know it’s not for me before I even walk into the office. It’s in a small building that I thought I confused with the freight elevator entrance. The “doorman” may have honestly just been a bystander sitting behind a desk. He was chatting with his boy about a wild party this weekend and motioned me with his hand to pass. Trying to stay positive, I made my way into the elevator. I use this term loosely because it was actually more like a closet that someone could have been pulling by rope from above. It stunk of a mixture of chinese food and broken dreams. Still trying to stay positive I thought maybe the company was moving, just moved, in the process of moving or something.

I walked into the “suite” (yea…OK) and noticed several other people in the room. The receptionist had her radio blasting and was in a ribbed, chunky, grey turtleneck and jeans. I had to walk out to make sure I had the right place. This place was looking for an Account Executive to help with major clients??!

I also noticed two other men in the “waiting area”(I’ve been more comfortable waiting for my gyno). I turned to the receptionist, and in the least-snobbish tone I could possible choke up asked “I’m sorry-is this XYZ company? I’m Cindy Moustafa…I have a 2:00 appointment with Matt”

She smiled up at me and nodded eagerly.”Yes! Please fill out this form (seriously was I at the gyno?) include your resume and have a seat.” I chuckled “I’m sorry….is this some sort of mass interview? I mean are these people waiting too…” She looked at me with her head tilted much in the way a golden retriever looks at their master when they don’t understand a command. “Yes…they’re interviewing too.” Damn it! I thought to myself. I’ve been duped! This happened to me once when I was in college. I went on what I thought was an interview and it was actually a recruitment agency. I ended up sitting there for 2 hours while these people tested my typing skills and then one woman introduced me to all the recruiters as if I was the new alcoholic in an AA meeting. I still remember her words “Everyone! Attention! This is Cindy Moustafa, she types 40 wpm and is in college. She’s looking for anything that can work around her school schedule.” Since this little intro was unexpected I froze and stared awkwardly at everyone. Everyone stared at me then started chatting and typing again.

Anyway-so my thoughts were that I had fell for that routine again. Worse of all I didn’t belong there with my cute outfit while these men wore…gasp…those damn orthopedic shoes. Look, people I get it- you don’t want to spend a lot of simply don’t have the money to do so. But you do not need to spend a lot! Just not chunky black shoes, that’s all I ask. Ugh. Anyway, back to the interview from smelly hell. Make a long story short it was some sort of weird, outsourcing sales thing. I could smell the shadiness as thick as the chinese food from that “elevator.”

My first and second interviews consisted of extensive phone interviews with the HR person, followed by writing samples, followed by rounds and rounds of interviews. I thought for sure I was going to get one of them. I was interviewing for both back to back so I felt extra confident. Each interview lasted no less than 2 hours. I calculated and between the two of them I spent about 12 hours of time. I should have charged. Anyway, after all that I had the first one tell me “my digital experience wasn’t enough for this position” Did I miss something? It took 4 interviews to come to that conclusion? That’s what resumes and first round interviews are for, lady. You could have told me that before you made me come in meet everyone short of your mother and father and get my hopes up. I’m still waiting to hear from the second one.

I hope this makes anyone out there who has interviewed unsuccessfully feel better. I’m good at interviews…really good. Usually, once I get my foot in the door I get an offer. But now you’re up against thousands of other people. Some of them need the job more than you and are just more hungry. So keep your head up! And at least we’re all poor together! 
You could always do this…

Til Tomorrow!

“We must accept finite disappointment, but we must never lose infinite hope.” -MLK, Jr.

Is texting the new booty call?

I have to stop and wonder if we’re all living the post-human emotion era. It wasn’t really all that long ago when if I gave a guy my number he actually had to call me and have a conversation with me. Right off the bat I could tell if he was shy, cocky, impatient, a social moron and even if he was a virgin. I have a sixth sense for these things.

Now I can barely tell when and if a guy is being serious because he’s hiding behind his texts. When did conveying wit through text messages become hip? Just because you wrote LOL and a winky face next to it, it does not make it OK to text me that you “wouldn’t kick me out of bed.” (This is an actual text I got. The one app the Blackberry is missing is the one to send an open hand slap to the recipient of the message.) Then there’s the guys that want to live happily ever after with you via texts. They text you until their thumbs bleed but won’t actual set a date with you. But will, however, text you every night to tell you about their day. Um-did I miss something here? Did we just move into the last call of the night phase without a date?

My friends and I call these guys “Texters.” Creative, no. But anytime we get one of those guys one of us sighs loudly and exclaims “We’ve got another texter on our hands!” Here’s my best definition: Texter; adj. – a guy who seems promising because he texted the next day, however his potential is limited because the relationship never blossoms beyond the text. He is presumed to be a social moron who wouldn’t know what to do with you in person.” I’ll use it in a sentence.When she heard her phone go off,  Jane rolled her eyes .”

America – have we become socially retarded? What is wrong with people? Texting should only be used in limited circumstances. Examples are to tell someone where you’ll meet them, if you’re running late or for a cute way of telling someone you’re thinking of them. This is not a Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks movie. This is real life and you simply can not expect to date (or have sex with) someone you are texting more than speaking to. Remember when people refused to online date because we though the guy/girl might be totally creepy hiding behind the computer? It’s the same thing with a cell phone! And now we’re killing people on the roads and in the air because we’re slaves to the text.  (Text messages are going in my book of evil things along with GMAC.)

The texter term came about 3 years ago. My girlfriends and I went to meet our friend James*(I never use real names) in the city one night.  James was there with his friend. I’ll call him Anthony because honestly, in Brooklyn,I could be talking about anyone with that name. I was totally attracted to him right off the bat. He had was literally tall, dark and handsome with a million dollar smile. But then a 90 pound, 80 of it in her tits, tall blonde came over and locked her arm into his. Since he had a girlfriend, nothing was ever pursued. He was known to my friends as the hottie who of course had to have a girlfriend. Why wouldn’t he- he’s a great catch, right? Months later, he then found me on facebook and sent me a message making small talk. I told James and he informed me that Anthony was now single. He asked for number-via FB messages-so I decided to give it to him.

Sounds perfect doesn’t it? Sounds like I’m writing one of those blogs telling you about how I met my current boyfriend and it was all meant to be at the perfect time. Not so much. He would constantly text me asking me what I was doing every other night and every weekend but never made actual plans. At this point I started to wonder if he had a girlfriend. James assured me he definitely broke up with her and that Anthony is really busy with his job. (This is my pet peeve excuse. Don’t insult my integrity and tell me you’re busy with work. Obama and Michelle hang out and that dude’s solving a recession, a war, health care reform, and the gays are barking at him for legal marriage.) Anyway, the texting was so frequent I couldn’t see how he could be “sneak” texting me while with a girl. One night he literally texted me for 3 hours straight asking me questions a normal homosapien would ask on a proper date. This went on for weeks. When I got my cell phone bill that month charging me $80 in texting fees I ended our “texting.” You can’t be cute enough to be worth that much in T-Mobile fees.

I thought of this today, because I think the dating scene is now worse than ever with this texting crap. I’m talking to a few guys and all they do is text me. It’s exhausting and I’m the bitch when I don’t answer. I gave you my number, dude, so either try and get to know me in a normal freakin way or text the shit out of somebody else. I don’t give a shit how your day was because .. hello.. I DONT KNOW YOU!!!!!

This trend has apparently mutated into all sorts of categories. FB messages, My Space, Tweets, Texts, BBM’s. What’s next? Are potential employers going to start texting too?

What happened to good, old-fashioned, having the balls to pick up the phone and calling? Are you that scared of rejection? Look, if you guys hit it off give it a whirl and call.  If it doesn’t work out-whatever. At the very least-think of it this way. It’s way harder to have phone sex while texting. Someone could lose a thumb.

 

Til Tomorrow!

“Each contact with a human being is so rare, so precious, one should preserve it.”-Anais Nin

The GMAT and it’s mind games….

Before this recession hit I always knew that I would continue my education somewhere down the road. While in my undergraduate at F.I.T in Advertising and Marketing, I assumed this would be wayyy down the road when I’m married. Well, that didn’t seem to be happening anytime soon, so I decided that I would go back to school this year. I know I write good essays and my undergrad GPA was a 3.2 , so I figured I was in pretty good shape. Except this one gatekeeper that is preventing me from getting an education – the GMAT. Anyone who has taken this horrific, mind-fuck of a test will tell you…it has the capability to bring you to tears. I swear I cried. I hadn’t shed a single tear in a very long time. But this standardized test brought me to my knees. I felt like throwing my hands in the air and screaming at the top of my lungs “YOU WIN, YOU WINNNN ARE YOU HAPPY NOW YOU SON OF A BITCH??!” I don’t know if this would be directed at GMAC, my laptop or the hundred of dollars spent in GMAT classes and books…but damn it someone was going to hear it! (It probably would just be my neighbor assuming I was going through a bad breakup).

I took the GMAT in April and scored a 460 out of 800. My math score brought my test score so low that my school of choice said they couldn’t accept me with that low of a score. Um-Ouch. I believe it was at that very moment I truly felt like a moron. Seriously. Like a total dumbass who has to multiply on her fingers and can barely work a calculator. If you have rejection issues, I strongly suggest you not apply to business school. It’ll bring back all those times as a kid that you weren’t hugged. So after being rejected, I decided I would try to take this test again. Turns out it’s kind of like going back in the water after you’ve seen a shark fin in it. I use this analogy because I’m petrified of sharks. I barely go beyond knee-deep and even then I feel like a daredevil since most attacks happen in shallow water. (People keep trying to convince me sharks aren’t really in the water at Brighton Beach…but to hell if I’ll be the <0 statistic of people who were attacked there!) I’m now as petrified of taking the GMAT again as I am of going in the shark-filled waters. It is so exhausting studying the same material over and over and over and just when you think you have it…AHA! another mind-fuck question meant to trick you into thinking that you were smart. I shouldn’t say mind fuck, I should say mind rape because I didn’t see it coming, didn’t want it to happen and certainly didn’t feel good after the climax.

I’m doing fine in the english part. I should hope, since it is my first language. (At the very worst I’ve got the fact that I can read my language going for me) But this math is killing me. What is it with this damn test anyway? No one’s done this crap since high school…IF you even learned it then. I was in a public school and I don’t recall ever getting homework my junior and senior year. And no one cares. Yea, yea I know -”Math makes you think.” So do riddles, jokes, nostramadus’s books and crossword puzzles but I don’t see any of that of this test. I know I have good business sense-test me on that! Test me on putting together a proposal for a client on a tighter budget than 10% of the unemployed Americans. I’ll show you a business student. No, instead this “GMAC” powers that be decided it was better to see if I can square root their mother’s ass.

Of course, now that the unemployment rate is so high, everyone wants to go back to school. So, of course, the bar’s been raised. This puts even more pressure on me to do good on this “test”.  So I’ve decided to get back in the water. I’m dedicating a min. of 2 hours a day to studying for this SOB. I’m going to go in there, HOPEFULLY do decent and reapply to get my MBA. Damn it GMAC if it kills me I’m going to somehow get a score good enough to get me into business school. If not, I am going to drive to your headquarters screaming like a lunatic and demanding that the evil children of satan who come up these questions show their face. Then shortly after you have me arrested, I’ll take it again…

Til Tomorrow!

“Faith in oneself… is the best and safest course.” – Michaelangelo

Intro to Unemployed and Single

At the risk of depicting myself as the most miserable person EVER, I’ve titled this blog accordingly. To be unemployed and single is to have NO distractions at all. This gives ALOT, if not too much, time to think. In addition, you start to notice things you’ve never noticed before. These “things” range from total narcassistic thoughts to paying more attention to the world around you. One day I noticed how many split ends I had, the next I learned what the Nation’s GDP was.  I was working as an Account Executive at a B2B publication in the network industry. My clients ranged from major cable networks to media agencies. With this recession, advertising was hit worse than anyone had ever seen. We literally could not afford to stay in business-so in June of 2009 we produced our last issue. I had earlier made plans to go to Egypt to see family so I didn’t care too much on June 1st, seeing as how I left for Cairo 2 days later. So I consider myself as being offically “unemployed” since July.

 At first being unemployed feels like you’ve been released from a jail sentence.  Don’t even tell me you don’t feel that way, America. Yes being unemployed is terrible when you’re the breadwinner and supporting your family, so to those people I apologize. But for those of us who don’t have a family to support-at FIRST it feels kinda nice to wake up and not have to rush anyway. Not to stare at your computer screen, take calls from whiny clients, and have useless meetings in which your boss just wants to hear him or herself speak and sound important. For the first couple of weeks, I enjoyed waking up at a time I wanted, getting my copy of the NY Times delivered to me daily, sitting down with a hot cup of coffee and then watching some Dr. Oz and Ellen without interruptions. I had all the time in the world to work out early (as every woman dreams of doing when she’s rushing to get to the gym during rush hour), take Yoga, start learning a new language. You know all the things you wish you had time to do when you were stuck at the office for 9 hours. So at first, being uemployed and single is working out kind of nice! Besides, if you’re like me, you used to getting a job without too much effort and time. So you figure – “The job will be waiting for me when I’m good and ready.”

Yea-not so much. Out of about 30 resumes and cover letters I send out to jobs I’m well qualified for I receive 2 responses. We’ll get into more detail on those in another blog. Trust me , these stories need thier own blog.

The problem with being unemployed and single is you have nothing to grasp onto when you’re feeling completely out of control and like you’ve got no purpose in life. Everyday starts to become routine and working out doesn’t even help. I start to feel like I’m trapped in a Groundhog’s Day routine. Everyday I wake up, read my paper, watch TV, scout for jobs and clean.

Everyday I’m battling the depression that’s come along with being unemployed amongst other issues that I was fortunate enough to be working and not have time to deal with. I’m not one that lieks to accept failure and depression and say woe is me. So I force myself to get up and try to do at least one productive thing a day. I do some volunteer work, catch up with friends I didn’t have time for while I was working, and try to cook. By the way, it’s not almost November and I can offically say that the cooking gene skipped me. My father is a chef, my brother is a fantastic cook as well. Me? My food sucks ass. Seriously. I make a mean stir fried vegetables and tofu with quinoa. Other than that…eat before you come over.

So being unemployed AND single means working extra hard to find balance and sanity in my day. My mind is exhausted (but my ass looks great since I have a lot of time to dedicate to working it out). Please take the time out to answer my poll so we can see how many people out there are going through this.