The American Dream

White picket fences, golden retrievers, manicured lawns, whispy curtains, and two sedans in the driveway. This is the American Dream right? Comfortable. Familial. Endearing.

Maybe if you live in the 1940s.

Gated communities, pure bread water poodles, private greenhouses, plantation shutters, and a Mercedes/Range Rover duo in the driveway.

That sounds more like it.

As the rest of this post unfolds, keep in mind the following:
1. I know some people are still passionate about their careers
2. I am very good at Wii bowling
3. The Occupy Wall Streeters to whom I refer are the youngsters who didn't really understand the true issues at hand, rather have entitlement issues
4. Please read the entire thing before assuming I know enough about politics to actually write a politically-driven post (Newsflash: I don't)

The idea of the American Dream seems to have drastically shifted in the last few decades. A happy, employed, nuclear family just doesn't cut it these days. We want more. More cars. More space. More gadgets. Essentially, more money. Seemingly no one is happy starting a small business unless it will provide a luxurious lifestyle. Who cares about passion? No smell of flour on your hands from opening your dream restaurant, no excitement surrounding the best idea you've ever had for your ad agency, no pride in your heart about seeing improvement in your students (see #1 above). Hard work means rarely coming home to the family and most likely getting stress hives from your job, but it's okay because there's a Nintendo Wii to distract the kids (#2), along with a pool, grand piano, and The Yacht.  Wasn't there a time when the American Dream implied the possibilities of succeeding freely, able to provide for a family and live in a home or your own? Not doggedly, without ever attaining complete satisfaction.

I mostly want to be her because of my girl crush

As Keeping-Up-With-The-Joneses-Syndrome becomes a greater epidemic by the second, a new, profound rage against the "1%" is also hitting an all-time high. Or, the way I see it, low. Demonizing the richest of the rich is the middle class' favorite pastime. Ironically, the middle class (generalization- deep breaths) is openly upset that the exorbitantly wealthy have so much more than "the rest of us." Meaning they want more, too (which would make them equals with those they supposedly disapprove of), or at least want the 1% to have less. Sounds like the age-old case of the green monster to me. What you're saying, dear Occupiers of Wall Street, is that you should get a share of that opulence. That it's not fair. I get it, because I often think that it's not fair that I wasn't born Kate Middleton, Carrie Underwood, or Heidi Klum. [Before you huff and puff, I'm aware that none of those women fall into the 1%. Maybe Kate Middleton, but she's not even American, so none of you really care.] All of this disdain for the rich makes me roll my eyes, because most of the blind indignation (#3) comes from believing that opportunities aren't equal, the "inhumanity" of the wealth gap, and- essentially- people wanting to be richer themselves. You hate the rich because you aren't.

I will say that the one argument against the 1% that I can tolerate is regarding their alleged control over the government. I most certainly do not have the inside scoop on that can of worms, but I'm with you- corruption is no bueno.

The American Dream has shifted from living a secure suburban lifestyle to having your own plane to fly to Paris for the weekend. But then everyone's mad at the people who do fly to Paris for the weekend. It's very fickle. Life would be super awesome if we were all born into homes with two employed, educated parents. But that's not life. Therefore, yes, the rich should help the poor. What would be even more amazing is if they did it on their own accord- which many do, tax write-offs aside. They're not bad people just because they're rich. The world hasn't gone to shi...itaki mushrooms...because Henry Ford invented the automobile and his ancestors now get to enjoy the ride (no pun intended). Good for them. No, the world's- rather America's- real problem is lacking the ideal to work hard until reaching a level of comfortability, then finding contentment in that level, no matter how much the paycheck continues to increase (or not). Again, I recognize the extreme cases and outlying variables that don't allow this basic progress in certain demographics, but I am speaking to middle class America: Work hard, be content (not the same as shunning growth/motivation), and stop looking at those with more than you as villains.

I hope you all kept in mind the four disclaimers at the top of the page. As the proclaimed "Switzerland of Pageantry" by our current Miss America herself, Lord knows I understand both sides of nearly every argument- almost to a fault. All I am saying here is find a way to be happy and don't dislike other people just because of differing lifestyles (#4). If you've read my blog over the years, you know my life mantra comes into play here: You are in control of your own happiness. Also, may I add, you are only allowed to dislike the rich if they're nasty, bad tippers, or hate Harry Potter. I don't like anyone who hates Harry Potter.

Man's Best Friend

I'll be the first to admit it: Whenever I have an extreme emotion, all I want is someone to join the party. I don't want to hear how to make things better or listen to why I should manage my expectations. I want you to jump up and down with me when I get a new job lead or lay prostrate on the floor with me after realizing I've gained eight pounds. And if you can't bring yourself to join me on the overenthusiastic highs and the self-indulgent lows, at least be very quiet and just smile at me like I am the most wonderful person on the planet.

This is why I need a dog.

Two humans have ever come close to the qualities I'm looking for in an emotional sidekick: Tommy Hendrickson and Emily Howard-soon-to-be-Montovani. Their bonus: In addition to hopping on whatever quickly-moving train I'm riding, these two will also make sure I have a full glass of wine in hand. Unfortunately, they aren't furry and I can't nuzzle them while talking in a high pitched voice. Scratch that. The latter has definitely occurred. And Tommy's legs, well, let's just say they're not NOT furry. What I'm trying to say is that even my best friends are no match for the therapy dogs bring to the table.

True or false: When a puppy looks at you with those wide eyes that are bigger and sadder than Precious on a diet, you can't think of anything else in the world at that moment.

Answer: true

If you answered false, might I use these as my rebuttal:

Now that I'm positive we're all on the same page, I'm sure you will agree that pups have an inexplicable way of making you happy. Their approach is very similar to Sour Patch Kids, in that just when they're getting so sour that you can't believe you decided to have one, they become ridiculously sweet. Observe:

 

 

I've done a lot of thinking about getting a pooch and have decided it's a must. First I need a job, then an apartment, and then a car, but I'm thinking a new little lovebug will come into my life within the next year! Also, the name will have something to do with wine or cheese, depending on the personality of the little one. Options are: Brie, Veeta (Velveeta), Colby, Jack, Colby-Jack, Grigio, Aquinas (favorite pinot noir), Raymond (favorite cab), Kendall-Jackson (if I get a Great Dane), Chardonnay (if I get a little fluffy white dog), Napa, or Noma (Sonoma).

 

They say you can't buy friends, but I can't wait to buy my new bestie! Don't worry, human besties, I'm not replacing you. I'm just buying you out of the emotional sidekick gig. You can still bring me wine, though.

A Dummy's Guide to Job Hunting

Before I begin this post, I'd like to address the title of this blog. "Shannon's NYC" may seem rather misleading considering that I am now a resident of Washington, D.C....actually that's misleading, too. I technically live in Virginia. But anyways, I'm going to come right out with it and tell you: I'm not going to change the name. Basically, this blog is a compilation of my musings and interesting happenings in my life, beginning with the chapter of my life that took place in New York City. The rest of my life will always be shaped by my time in that crazy city, so why not remind myself and readers why this blog started to begin with? We all know that life takes us in different directions, from city to city, through different relationships, jobs, and apartments. In "Shannon's NYC," NYC no longer represents that literal city, but the start of a new adventure and a new chapter in life. And I hope those never stop coming my way.

Today's topic: job hunting.

The first thing you need to prepare for when starting the job hunt is the basic understanding that you will, without a shadow of a doubt, gain 5-8 pounds during the process. Accept it, embrace it, and enjoy it. I've never met someone who does not procrastinate when applying for something: college, jobs, match.com, anything. If someone told me I have to write one paragraph on why I deserve a million dollars, after which I would then win a million dollars, I'd still take three days to actually write it. In the mean time, I'd order Indian food, take a leisurely walk to Starbucks, watch the entire first season of Orange is the New Black on Netflix (while eating a large block of sharp cheddar cheese), and clean every room in the house while listening to The Jackson 5 station on Pandora. That's just how it goes. Get your yoga pants ready because you sure as hell won't fit into anything else by the time you're employed.

Next, if you have been twiddling away your life by pursuing your impractical dream of being a big time actress, rock star, eating contest champion, Olympic jump roper, or anything else that does not take place inside of an office, you will be qualified for absolutely nothing. Every single entry level position will be taken by biddies coming right out of college who don't have a weird talent that they wanted to pursue professionally. Anything above entry level requires 2-5 years of experience. And I'm not talking about the experience you've had feeding yourself and surviving on your own for the past few years. I mean, they want you to have already had this job before, somewhere else.  Prepare for an overwhelming sense of having nothing to offer this big, bad world. You can know in your heart that you're a phenomenal writer and the fastest learner since that horse who started counting with his hooves, but communicating those traits in a cover letter and resume is nearly impossible.

How do you actually get an interview, then? From my lengthy experience in the last week (hah!), A. Pray that people in college and high school liked you enough to reply to a plea for help finding a job on Facebook and B. Write a cover letter that cannot be copied and pasted for multiple applications. Start each one from scratch and explain to the recruiters why that one, specific job is the perfect fit for you. The first time I did this was for an office manager-type-position at a company that functions similar to Google- we're talking meetings on bean bags, no dress code, and free weekly back massages. I decided to be 100% personality. My cover letter started like this:

"According to the most reliable source on the internet, Wikipedia..."

And wrapped up like this:

"If I can feed llamas without getting bitten, I’m fairly certain the world is mine for the taking."

They contacted me requesting a preliminary interview exactly 3 hours and 38 minutes after I submitted the application.

I'd love to have some wildly amazing advice for what to do after you get the initial interview (because I know my insight so far has been wildly amazing), but that's as far as I've made it in this process. I can tell you what not to do, though: don't stop applying for jobs. My brain has told me the following: Oh, you're doing great! That one company is interested so that means you get to reward yourself with a three day break from applying for anything! I'm acutely aware that this is the wrong move, but here I am, writing a blog in Starbucks, trying to avoid cabin fever while also using this as my reason to not apply for anything today. Am I employed yet? No. Thus, should I stop applying? No. Don't worry, I'll get back on the wagon. But for now, I'm going to bask in the fact that a cover letter that included my experience with llamas back in 2007 got me my first real-world interview.