Stand in the Line Just to Hit a New Low

This morning I finally realized the true meaning behind the nickname CU Parking Services has earned. It's not just because they liberally and ruthlessly give out tickets to cars parked in those pesky pay-to-park meters(the ones that have coin slots next to the credit card reader, but don't register the coins you put in), but they are also high on power and demeaning to the lowly patrons who are forced to pay $50 a month to park within any semblance of walking distance to the building in which we work.

The last time I felt this humiliated and angry was when my academic advisor at Thunderbird told me that I should be happy that I hadn't been admitted to the exclusive Mexican Module Abroad - because it wouldn't be fair to my husband for me to be away that long. So much for supporting academic endeavors with equal opportunity...

If you're going to uphold a certain set of guidelines, that's fine. I will respect them, I am not angling to take advantage of the system. What has been frustrating me is that there have consistently been two different answers. Make up your mind! If my parking liaison tells me something she says came from your office, why should I have any reason not to believe her? It can't be anything but annoying to her when I come back with my rejection stories that mean she has to make another round of phone calls and emails.

To top it off, the passive-aggressive nonsense with your "Have a nice day" and your fake smile as I walk out the door with tears streaming down my face is absolutely not necessary. I think a brisk walk might be a healthy way to start and end my workdays, and have no intentions of handing over any more cash to the unfeeling and anti-customer service Parking Services.

If You Ain't Got A Friend

You know when you get let down by somebody you respect or admire, and you have a moment of realization that it's not the first time they've let you down? And you think about all of the times you have gone out of your way to help them out or be a friend to them, but it is apparent that they don't see you as an important part of their life? I've had several moments like that recently, and have found it difficult to convince myself to stop caring. It's easy enough for my brain to rationalize the fact that I was looking for a connection that they were not interested in, and it's not necessarily personal that they don't think of me as often or as highly as I think of them. However, my heart continues to be confused about why my efforts are unrequited - be it outreach in others' times of need, professional networking, or just friendliness in general.

I think one of my problems is that I have always been inclined to sincerity, and tend to avoid superficial relationships. (Galit would tell me that my problem is the values I possess, and that they are getting in my way of taking over the world.) But in all honesty, I am internally offended when somebody fakes a greeting or a concern. For better or for worse, I cannot fake concern. If you're having a bad day I genuinely feel bad for you and if there is something in my power that would improve it, I'd like to help do that. Why is that so weird?

I saw an unmemorable movie recently, and there's a scene when a high schooler steps into a street fight between a 4-person gang and a single guy, and a crowd collects at the windows of the restaurant they are in front of. Pre-left-hook, one of the gang members asks the kid what's wrong with him for volunteering to get beat up on behalf of a stranger, and his response struck me: "Four idiots laying into one guy while everybody else watches, and you want to know what's wrong with me?!"

I hope someday to be content with my values, and be strong enough to stand up for them.

I've Got a Hammer & a Heart of Glass

I found this in my current edition of "The Week," and it is a pretty perfect summary of the anxiety I have over the future of this nation's economy. I went back to school because I wanted to gain some insight into my strengths and how I can better apply them to my world. Even in college I had decided that I wanted to pursue a master's, and I selected a very rigorous program because I have always been an ambitious person; just going through the motions wouldn't have satisfied my intentions. I also decided that a college degree alone will not provide me with enough resources and credibility to achieve all of the elements the career of my dreams includes.

In this excerpt, Francis Wilkinson articulates the deep-seated fear that has been tormenting my hope in our future, as I have struggled to justify the jobs I think I would enjoy with the jobs I think people will pay me to do.

When I was a recent college graduate, I was fired from my job at an upscale Manhattan wine shop. (My boss' diagnosis was correct: I did have an attitude.) With rent to pay and no job prospects, I entered a Midtown messenger firm and started delivering packages for minimum wage. At week's end, I had scarcely more money than I had begun with. As a student, I had been enterprisingly frugal, cooking on an upturned electric iron when my propane stove was spent. That sort of poverty had its youthful charm. But working full-time for nearly nothing was something else - a depressing, even terrifying, experience.

According to a new study, three quarters of the jobs created in the first half of 2010 were low-paying - $9 to $15 per hour. I suspect that many Americans who hold such jobs - especially those with children - could teach me a thing or two about what true depression and terror feel like. The plight of the poor is, of course, a perennial topic, but its contours change according to the prevailing idealogical light. Looking back, we see the earnest, striving immigrants of the early 20th century, those teeming urban masses yearning for fresh air and a chance to make good. In the 1960's, we had the grim, explosive underclass, which was replaced in the 1980's by a sketch of Cadillac welfare mothers. Now, in the wake of the Great Recession, a new poor is taking shape - the desperate, downwardly mobile. Betrayed by markets, forsaken by government, they seem to look different this time. But their harrowing vantage point is the same as ever.