Bippity Boppity Boo..
Sometimes I catch myself wanting to huddle under the identification as my parent's daughter rather than my own person. I want to run away from the problems and hurdles being thrown at me, letting my parents smooth the way and me not have to lift a finger. I want to be that little girl that wore the dresses my grandmother made for me (having picked out my own fabrics), twirling in circles in the yard, singing songs of gibberish words strung together and just pouncing my way through the days as my mother's "princess", my father's soccer star. And if those days are long since over, my parents are still a major part of my life nonetheless and also heavily incorporated into how I view the world's possibilities. That's been made especially more clear to me through conversations I've had with Jess about the role her parents play in her life currently. It's painfully obvious that I am in a different stage of my existence. I also think, it's a reflection of the disparities in the way we were raised and the different perspectives we have on what truly makes us independent.
I was hanging out with Lin and Jess in the faculty lounge one evening last week, discussing graduate school. Lin has been considering programs for when she leaves Woolman as the teaching intern, and was asking Jess about the program she did for her Masters at Earlham College. Throughout the course of the conversation, Jess brought up how much in debt she was from getting her undergrad and masters degrees. I mentioned that once upon a time my dad had offered to pay for graduate school in the future, and that I felt a little guilty and/or selfish because at this point in time I didn't see myself ever going for a masters. Lin was incredulous, Jess looked at me like I was an idiot. She actually said she had to try really hard not to be annoyed hearing that.
I don't think I've ever felt younger in their presence before, and it brought me to this moment and this post where I want to talk about it. I think people in CA forget sometimes what life I left behind in Maryland, at what point I hit the "pause" button and traipsed across the country for ten months of my life. And I guess that could perhaps be construed as a compliment, that they think I'm older than I am, because maybe that means I act the adult and display at least a modicum of maturity.
I can't really relate to Jess though, when she talks about her parents not paying for her schooling. I don't know how that feels or how I would get along with my life being several thousand dollars in debt. I don't think that makes me spoiled. I think it makes me damned lucky, and I realize it. I can't relate either when she says that SFC is what she considers her first real Home since college. Home for me is still Pasadena, MD and My Room is still the first door down the hallway on the right with just one wall painted blue. I can understand Jess's frustration with basically turning away from a "free-ride" to grad school, but what I can't understand is why she would think that right now I would even consider it. I hardly got through two and a half years of undergrad, and it was because I didn't know why I was there. I'd be getting a little ahead of myself to think beyond just my B.A. right now, especially since I have no idea what I would study in grad school.
Would I consider myself financially independent from my parents? Hardly. I try to work enough where I don't have to ask them for money ever beyond schooling, and for the most part successfully managed that since graduating high school until now. Do I abuse it? I don't think so. Do I ask for help when I really need it? Sure do. Do I realize how great it is to have that as an option? You'd better believe it.
I am aware that I am rather privileged. I can see that my parents have their cake and they eat it too. I can see that they are more than willing to share their generous desserts with me as well. I know that they are there to help me in any way they can, if I need it. All I have to do is ask. I was raised that way. I was raised knowing that my parents are my constants. Their home will always be my home too. "Home Base," my dad calls it. They are the ones that I can fall back on, whenever, however, if I am in trouble. I am able to take risks because I know they will catch me if I fail.
This internship is case in point. I'd just quit school, got a decently paying job at an insurance company, bought a new car... to leave it all behind for a shit-for-pay internship across the country. I thought I could manage the car payments for the duration, albeit barely scraping by, but it's painfully obvious to me now that that was a pipedream on my part. I damn near had a panic attack when it really sunk in that it wasn't going to be possible. I mentioned it before, back in January, just after I'd returned from break. Doot-do-doo! Dad to the rescue. I hate asking my parents for money. I hate asking my parents for money. I hate asking my parents for money.
I hate asking my parents for money. It feels like an abuse of the trust and belief they hold in me to be independent. I don't think they expect it, per se, but I know they believe I'm capable of it and having to take step backwards is hard for me to deal with. Personally.
Does it make me spoiled to actually do it though? To ask them for help? Does it make me less of an independent to be aware and accept the fact that I might need them to prop me up sometimes while I find my feet?
I hope not. I was raised to think not..
It's such a different environment here, being the youngest amongst a flock of folks with degrees, than back home where a large portion of my friends are still in college and mostly living with their parents. It's an eye opener. I feel guilt, certainly... but not much regret in asking my parents for help, if only to stay in this "eye opening" situation and see it through until the end of my contract in May. Maybe I am still my mother's princess and my father's soccer star, just now I'm a little bit less dainty and a little bit more of a sure foot..
I think I rambled a bit. I can't really tell if it's very focused. It's also sort of late, nearly midnight, but I'm still on PST. Speaking of -- I'm in Vermont right now. By the way. I flew in through Boston yesterday for the start of my LAST OUTREACH TRIP. Sweet bejeesus, it's here at last, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel! I'm here until Saturday, then I'm driving to Boston for four days, followed by Providence, RI for three, before going back up to Boston again. Yes, I am all over the place. Yes, you should probably worry for me because there is a shit ton lot of snow here. Then, on the evening of the 16th of March, I will be flying home. (Insert deep contented sigh here.) Home until the 25th. I'm greatly anticipating it. :)
Anyway. Bedtime. Remind me later, and I'll tell you about the new students. They are a hoot.
I was hanging out with Lin and Jess in the faculty lounge one evening last week, discussing graduate school. Lin has been considering programs for when she leaves Woolman as the teaching intern, and was asking Jess about the program she did for her Masters at Earlham College. Throughout the course of the conversation, Jess brought up how much in debt she was from getting her undergrad and masters degrees. I mentioned that once upon a time my dad had offered to pay for graduate school in the future, and that I felt a little guilty and/or selfish because at this point in time I didn't see myself ever going for a masters. Lin was incredulous, Jess looked at me like I was an idiot. She actually said she had to try really hard not to be annoyed hearing that.
I don't think I've ever felt younger in their presence before, and it brought me to this moment and this post where I want to talk about it. I think people in CA forget sometimes what life I left behind in Maryland, at what point I hit the "pause" button and traipsed across the country for ten months of my life. And I guess that could perhaps be construed as a compliment, that they think I'm older than I am, because maybe that means I act the adult and display at least a modicum of maturity.
I can't really relate to Jess though, when she talks about her parents not paying for her schooling. I don't know how that feels or how I would get along with my life being several thousand dollars in debt. I don't think that makes me spoiled. I think it makes me damned lucky, and I realize it. I can't relate either when she says that SFC is what she considers her first real Home since college. Home for me is still Pasadena, MD and My Room is still the first door down the hallway on the right with just one wall painted blue. I can understand Jess's frustration with basically turning away from a "free-ride" to grad school, but what I can't understand is why she would think that right now I would even consider it. I hardly got through two and a half years of undergrad, and it was because I didn't know why I was there. I'd be getting a little ahead of myself to think beyond just my B.A. right now, especially since I have no idea what I would study in grad school.
Would I consider myself financially independent from my parents? Hardly. I try to work enough where I don't have to ask them for money ever beyond schooling, and for the most part successfully managed that since graduating high school until now. Do I abuse it? I don't think so. Do I ask for help when I really need it? Sure do. Do I realize how great it is to have that as an option? You'd better believe it.
I am aware that I am rather privileged. I can see that my parents have their cake and they eat it too. I can see that they are more than willing to share their generous desserts with me as well. I know that they are there to help me in any way they can, if I need it. All I have to do is ask. I was raised that way. I was raised knowing that my parents are my constants. Their home will always be my home too. "Home Base," my dad calls it. They are the ones that I can fall back on, whenever, however, if I am in trouble. I am able to take risks because I know they will catch me if I fail.
This internship is case in point. I'd just quit school, got a decently paying job at an insurance company, bought a new car... to leave it all behind for a shit-for-pay internship across the country. I thought I could manage the car payments for the duration, albeit barely scraping by, but it's painfully obvious to me now that that was a pipedream on my part. I damn near had a panic attack when it really sunk in that it wasn't going to be possible. I mentioned it before, back in January, just after I'd returned from break. Doot-do-doo! Dad to the rescue. I hate asking my parents for money. I hate asking my parents for money. I hate asking my parents for money.
I hate asking my parents for money. It feels like an abuse of the trust and belief they hold in me to be independent. I don't think they expect it, per se, but I know they believe I'm capable of it and having to take step backwards is hard for me to deal with. Personally.
Does it make me spoiled to actually do it though? To ask them for help? Does it make me less of an independent to be aware and accept the fact that I might need them to prop me up sometimes while I find my feet?
I hope not. I was raised to think not..
It's such a different environment here, being the youngest amongst a flock of folks with degrees, than back home where a large portion of my friends are still in college and mostly living with their parents. It's an eye opener. I feel guilt, certainly... but not much regret in asking my parents for help, if only to stay in this "eye opening" situation and see it through until the end of my contract in May. Maybe I am still my mother's princess and my father's soccer star, just now I'm a little bit less dainty and a little bit more of a sure foot..
I think I rambled a bit. I can't really tell if it's very focused. It's also sort of late, nearly midnight, but I'm still on PST. Speaking of -- I'm in Vermont right now. By the way. I flew in through Boston yesterday for the start of my LAST OUTREACH TRIP. Sweet bejeesus, it's here at last, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel! I'm here until Saturday, then I'm driving to Boston for four days, followed by Providence, RI for three, before going back up to Boston again. Yes, I am all over the place. Yes, you should probably worry for me because there is a shit ton lot of snow here. Then, on the evening of the 16th of March, I will be flying home. (Insert deep contented sigh here.) Home until the 25th. I'm greatly anticipating it. :)
Anyway. Bedtime. Remind me later, and I'll tell you about the new students. They are a hoot.