Archive for February, 2008

Questioning Myself

Since this is my last semester, I’ve naturally been thinking a lot about what to do beyond graduation. The trip to DC made me question whether or not I’m really a good fit for the position I’m applying for. For one thing, I think my Korean abilities have plateaued, and although language ability isn’t necessary, not being at a specific level means that I’ll be losing a LOT of money. There’s quite a lot of money to be made in language pay alone. I also felt a little out of place when I visited the office. One of the employees made a point to comment on the fact that I do not have a graduate degree. I really do wonder if this is the job I really want.

So, then, that leads to the question… What do I want? I want a job where I can help people. Maybe it was a mistake for me to go into computer science. I was originally attracted by money and opportunities, but you can’t really help anybody— except for some fat guy’s wallet. I looked into law school, which was kind of promising, except that I don’t really like public speaking. Even though I’m sure I’d be good at coming up with arguments and counterarguments, and even though the idea of being a prosecutor (rather than a lawyer) is appealing because I want to help prosecute criminals and help the wrongfully accused be declared innocent, I wonder how good I could actually be if I don’t like speaking in front of others. Even though the idea is appealing, I’m guessing it’s probably not the best course of action.

I also thought of trying to become a clinical psychologist. I could get a second undergraduate degree in psychology in a little more than a year, then apply to grad school. However, the psychology department here is VERY selective— 6 out of 117 applicants were accepted a few years back.  It’s only gotten more selective since then as more and more people apply. And even if I were somehow able to get in, I would have to get a PhD— which would take several years— then take 2 more years of classes for “respecialization” so that I could actually practice. Then, I would have to take a 2000-hour internship before I could get licensed. I wouldn’t be able to actually practice until I was well into my 30s— and I don’t think I want to go to school that long, especially for something I’m not entirely sure about.

There’s still the option to finish grad school in computer science, but I have to wonder what’s the point. It’s not something that comes naturally to me, and even though I’m good at it in spite of that fact, I still don’t like the fact that ultimately all I’m contributing to is some other person’s wealth.

I suppose I could always be a librarian, though I’m not sure if that really appeals to me.

And, of course, I could always take the position I’m going for now, assuming I make it through this lengthy process. Perhaps I’m just nervous about such a big change, but I’m afraid that I’ll drag everyone up there and discover I hate it. I think if I did that, Toby would hate me for the rest of his life. Either that, or he wouldn’t respect me, which is worse.

Blargh. I have no idea what I want to do with my life. Any suggestions? I’m open to anything…

My Trip to DC, Day 3

I still haven’t gotten anything done. I’m beginning to see a pattern here. Today went much more smoothly than yesterday, but once again I’m much too exhausted after I’m done to actually go anywhere.

My stomach is still in Hawaii. I’m still getting hungry at odd times of the day— such as right now. It’s about midnight and just about everything is closed. Alas. It’s only 7:00 in Hawaii.

Since I didn’t do anything today, there’s not much to say. However, I think everything went well, so things should start happening soon. Tomorrow is my last visit, and it should be less intense than the others I’ve had. Tomorrow is my last full day, and no matter how tired I am, I will make a point to go somewhere so that I can say I at least got something accomplished in DC.

My Trip to DC, Day 2

I woke up nice and early to make sure I got to my appointment on time. I had called a cab the night before to ensure that one was ready to take me there when I needed them. I made sure to get all my paperwork together the night before to make sure I didn’t forget anything. I even wrote down the address and directions to where I needed to go, just in case the driver didn’t understand me when I spoke. I spent a good long time on my hair and makeup to make sure I looked my best when I arrived.

Things went downhill from there.

First off, the driver didn’t know the location. That’s fine, it happens. I hand him the address I wrote down. He takes me to a place with closed gates, so we have to wait a while before we can go in. I was early, after all, so I didn’t mind waiting. After a little more driving we arrive at a museum. The guard at the museum allows me in, so we all think that perhaps this is where I need to be, even though I have my misgivings. I got to be in the museum before-hours, which was really cool. After being there for about 15 minutes, the guard finally realizes that I’m not supposed to be there, that I’m not a member of some group that’s having a meeting there in a little while.

Whoops. Cabbie took me to the wrong place. Yes, in spite of the written directions I had given him that explicitly mentioned not to arrive at this location.

Another guard shows up and tells me that where I need to be is about a 5-minute drive, straight ahead. I start walking, thinking it might not be so bad. I arrive at a freeway-looking road. I do not feel comfortable walking straight into traffic like that. Furthermore, I really don’t know where I am. Oh, and you know all that time I spent on my hair and makeup? Completely ruined in moments by the strong wind in the area. I called the managers to see what they suggested— at this point, I’m already late. I try the taxi company again, thinking they would be accomodating since it was their error.

Accomodating. Right.

I try telling him where I am by saying I’m near the museum. It’s a straight road with no other major buildings, so I figure they would be able to find me. He says it’s not good enough, and he needs an exact address. I don’t have an exact address. I barely even know where I am. He says he cannot help me until he has an exact address and tells me to call him when I do have the address. At this point I had already walked 15 minutes away from the museum; furthermore, they closed the gates behind me. I had no way of getting back to find the address. I call the managers again, and they chase down someone who can give me an address. I call the taxi company back. They go on to lecture me that I should have given the driver an exact address instead of a vague “near the museum.” I tell him, repeatedly, that I DID give an exact address, and even wrote it down. Not good enough— it’s still MY fault the driver dropped me off at the wrong spot. After spending several minutes arguing with the dispatcher, I’m hysterical and almost screaming. I’m also very late. He eventually tells me he’ll send another cab, but that I have to pay again. Considering it was THEIR fault in the first place, this seems very unfair.

The customer is supposed to always be right. Apparently, this is not the company’s motto.

In any case, they send me another cab. However, sensing my anger, the dispatcher apparently contacts an independent specialist who is able to get me where I need to go with no problems. He also doesn’t charge me a flat rate, asking that I pay only what I see fit. By the time I arrive at the building, I am over one hour late.

From there it goes a little more smoothly. The managers I contacted before called ahead to let the people know I’d be late, so they were expecting me. Fortunately, I didn’t miss much. It seems I got there just in time.

After the morning set of activities, I go to the cafe for lunch. I decided on chili. Bad idea. From there, it goes downhill again.

When the second round of activities begins, I am so tired I fall asleep for a few seconds every time that I blink. We’re watching an instructional/orientational video, and although I got most of it, I had weird half-dreams through parts of it. When my time comes, I find out they need another doctor’s note, which doesn’t arrive until too late. So I must come back tomorrow to finish that part up. During this part of the day, I’m also suffering intense abdominal distress. Stupid chili.

I call another taxi company. The taxi comes within a few minutes, but another girl runs ahead and jumps into it before I can. I call for another cab, and it takes almost another hour before one comes. 

So, I have no pictures for today. After my experiences the only thing I want to do is go back to my hotel room and huddle under the covers. Maybe tomorrow I’ll get something done.