How many nets would each of us crash through before we ran out of options? It’s not the world’s happiest thought, but it’s certainly something I’ve wondered about more than once in my adult life. (By “more than once” I really mean “more than once a month.” Adulthood is scary.)
I woke up on a recent Tuesday morning at 9:30 a.m. with a slight hangover and nowhere to go, except maybe to my laptop to casually browse the internet for some sort of inspiration. I no longer had to program my alarm for 7:10 a.m., and it was no longer of a pressing nature to get to the gym before going to work because, well, there was no work, and truth be told, no desk job was forcing me to be bound to a desk. I could do Zumba in my living room at 2 p.m. if I wanted to, provided my downstairs neighbors weren’t feeling too cantankerous.
I am leaving a grocery store with my dad. It is daytime. Dad walks ahead of me in the parking lot towards the car, but when I pass a parked car, a man runs up behind me.
I suppose I could use my old wallet, but it’s full of a life I no longer lead. The owner of that wallet once had an apartment, a full time job, and disposable income, an abundant life that utilized all of the slots.
New York Mag’s new blog, The Science of Us, published a servicey guide to surviving the work day when you didn’t get any sleep the night before. There are no quick fixes — ain’t that the way? — but lots of coping strategies. Among them: don’t hit the snooze button, get outside in the daylight without sunglasses on as soon as you can, eat a healthy breakfast and a healthy lunch, do the hard work right away and save the busy work for the afternoon, when you are truly ready to die. True, true, and true.
Continuing the idea that we need a new kind of financial advice:
The “old” financial advice model, by which I also mean the current financial advice model, presumes that you’re going to have a job at all times. Technically, it knows that you aren’t going to have a job at all times, but it brushes that uncomfortable truth into the corner by quickly shouting something about a three-to-six-month emergency fund.
And, of course, if you don’t have a job, you are advised to immediately trot on down to the nearest Walmart, Starbucks, or nurse’s aide training program.
Never mind that these jobs are not known for their long-term stability, and never mind the fact that you can’t get a coffee shop job just by asking. A link was bouncing around the internet yesterday about 1,701 people applying for eight Costa Coffee jobs (I only now realized that the story is a year old but probably still makes its point), and the last time I was in a coffee shop a man literally walked in, shouted “is anyone in this industry actually hiring?” and then argued with the barista before stomping out.
+ UT-Austin signs tell women how to dress so as not to be distracting and, according to Jezebel, crop tops are out.
Here are the things you cannot wear, if you want to learn to be a nurse at the University of Texas:
Midriff-baring shirts Short-shorts Low-rise pants Low-cut shirts that reveal cleavage
My K-12 religious school had a dress code that prohibited all of these things and I still feel funny if I wear them. My mind has been warped forever on the issue of modesty, which means I can’t be trusted to know whether this is egregious. Dress codes! Always unfair, if they’re only targeted at women? Justified in a context that has something to do with God, or taxes, or death? Can we trust students at a certain age to know how to dress appropriately and/or to not get life-threateningly distracted by a glimpse of skin?
+ Uh oh. STEM magic doesn’t work as well for black folks.