Bio Bay

I’m not one for adventure.  Yes, I’m a Frost, but for whatever reason, certain types of adventure just don’t call to me.  Like outdoor adventures.

Don’t get me wrong– I like hiking and… well, now that I am writing this, I realize I really only like hiking.  Hm.  Guess I’m just not as outdoorsy as I thought.

Anyway, Taeko loves the water.  I don’t.  More specifically, I don’t like animals in the water.  Animals that I cannot see swimming below and around me, no matter how harmless they are.

Going to Puerto Rico, Taeko insisted that we visit Bio-Luminescent Bay.  There are only a few places in the world where you can see this phenomenon, so it was one of those now-or-never deals.  If you don’t know what Bio-Luminescent Bay is, look it up.  Basically, there’s this crazy algae and plankton in the water that glows when you touch it.  You put your foot in the water and you kick around– all of the water around your foot glows.  It’s pretty neat.

Anyway, Taeko was determined to go, I was indifferent, as long as I wasn’t stuck paying loads of money for something I didn’t care that much about.  Taeko found a tour (after plenty of research) and after a morning of convincing, finally got me to join the bandwagon.

We were picked up at 6pm at our hotel by our guide Peter.  We hopped into the old van and moved along to pick up the rest of the passengers.  The tour was being held on the other side of the island, so we had a bit of a drive ahead of us, which is why we were the first passengers to be picked up.

Peter is an eccentric character.  He is also driving like a mad man.  He is talking on his phone, writing on a piece of paper, pointing out the sunset, and going 70 mph in a rickety vehicle at the same time.  I’m not comfortable in cars, especially with crazy drivers.  I switched spots to further back in the van, found a seat with a seatbelt, and thought to myself the best exit strategy in the event of an accident.

One and a half hours later, we finally arrived on location with the rest of the passengers in our van.  Another couple, a father and son, and a big, obnoxious family from Westchester with five young daughters, one of which was crying even before she got in the van, because she didn’t want to go.

We all coupled up in our kayaks, put on our lifejackets, and headed out into the darkness of the harbor.  Yes, the darkness. It’s nighttime.  It’s really dark.  We start paddling through an open bay where there are larger boats anchored, so Taeko and I are able to get the gist of this whole paddling thing (Taeko much more than me– arm strength was never my forte.  In fact, no strength was ever my forte.).  We are all paddling in a line– one kayak behind the other.  It starts to feel like traffic, but without any brakes.  Lots of “Sorry”s and “Behind You!”s.

We get to the other end of the harbor, still in line, and we find that we are entering a small channel.  A channel within a jungle.  This channel is probably 20-30 feet in width, and the entirety of it is surrounded by jungle branches and vines.  It’s dark– really dark.  It’s overcast, so there is little moonlight to help you out.  Your only sources of guidance are the apologies from fellow inexperienced kayakers ahead of you and the small glowsticks that have been attached to the front and back of each kayak.

I find myself huddled in a ball at the front of the kayak, following a bobbing glowstick 30 feet ahead of me.  Aside from that, I can see very little.  I hear Taeko chuckling behind me.  I feel like I am on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride in Disneyland, but without the comfort of knowing it’s foolproof and you’ll get out safe.  Every few minutes I feel a branch or vine breeze across the top of my head and I have a minor panic attack.  I try to stick my oar in the water to turn one way or the other to get out of the vines, but most of the time end up turning the wrong way.  Thank God for Taeko– she seems to know what she’s doing and gets us out of the vines within a minute or two.

This goes on for 1.5 miles.  That’s a pretty long time, but luckily I am preoccupied by my fear enough that the time seems to pass pretty quickly.  As we approach the Bio Bay, each time we put our oars in the water, the plankton lights up, providing a secondary source of light (aside from the glowsticks).  This is so weird.

We finally arrive at the bay– a big opening at the end of the channel dotted with green and red glowsticks from other members of the tour.  We gather together in the middle of the bay and sit in our kayaks as Peter explain to us how the Bio Bay came to exist.  I don’t retain much information, as I’m still in shock that 1) I survived, and 2) we still have to go back.

Peter jumps into the water (this is illegal and you can face huge fines, but it’s crucial you see a human body in the water for the full effect).  Peter swims around for everyone to see– he is glowing.  All of the water surrounding his body is glowing against the stark blackness of the rest of the bay.  It’s really, really neat.  We sit in our kayaks a little longer, putting our hands and feet in the water and swishing them around to see the glow.  You can also cup the water in your hands and pour it over you to see the individual plankton light up and run off of your clothing.

My fascination has replaced my fear, and Taeko and I are in awe of what we are seeing.  I can see her itching to jump into the water and swim around– something that I would never, ever, ever consider for myself.  At risk of a massive fine, she decides against the swim.  Soon enough, we all begin our paddle back towards the channel.

I feel like I’ve gotten the hang of this paddle thing.  I know how to steer and I’ve been through this before– yeah, I’ve got this.  I’ll be just fine.

Five minutes into the channel, rain starts pouring down.  Not just regular rain, but literally a torrential downpour.  I cannot hear much aside from the “Shhhh” sound that the rain makes when pattering on the leaves of the jungle, the water, the kayak, and my life jacket. Shhhh.

Taeko and I are both laughing out of nervousness and amazement.  My eyes are wide, my jaw is clenched, and my lips spread in a wide smile.  See photo.

The rain keeps pouring down, harder and harder.  FLASH.  Lightening.  Lightening and water, not a great combination.  But we’re here, and we’ve got no choice but to paddle back.  We keep on paddling, this time my nerves are getting the best of me and we have a few more run-ins with the water bank.  Taeko talks me through it each time, amazingly calm, but I don’t really listen– I just stick my paddle in the water, one way or another, and hope it gets me out of these vines.  I’m the worst kayak partner ever.

With the rain, the glow sticks in front of us are more and more difficult to see.  Most of the time I find myself just paddling– paddling in hopes of getting where I’m supposed to be.  This probably accounts for the above-mentioned bank run-ins.  I don’t work well under pressure.

The lightening begins to be somewhat of a blessing, in that every few minutes it strikes, and I get a sudden view of where I am, where I should be going, and if anyone else is within 50 feet of me.  It is also terrifying, as each time it strikes, I can see all of the looming branches above and to the sides of me, cocooning me into this channel, full of unknown insects and animals.  If you haven’t noticed, I’m not comfortable with unseen creatures around me.

We paddle.  I should also make mention that we are now paddling upstream.  The current is strong, especially considering the amount of rainfall.  It also makes for a more difficult time steering.  I can feel we are approaching the end, though.  Hope is rising.  The rain lightens up, and the lightening becomes less frequent.  The channel is widening, and I can see we’ve returned to the harbor.

We maze our way through the anchored boats and make it back to the dock– which is not a dock, but a muddy, slippery, smelly bank.  We climb out, and share our shock with everyone around us.  Everyone else seems to be as mind-boggled as we are.

Did that seriously just happen?

We’ve got a one-hour drive home, so we grab some beer at a nearby store with another couple and settle into the van.  We are sopping wet, muddy, and exhausted.

We drop off the first two parties nearby, and Peter promises he will get us back to our hotel within 45 minutes.  He’s not kidding around.  Peter zooms through traffic as if in a video game.  The couple with us is in an argument– The girlfriend did not enjoy the tour.  It was too dark, too scary, and had she known this was what she was getting into, she wouldn’t have gone.  The boyfriend thought it was great.  As they sip their beer in a tense silence, Taeko and I doze off in the back seat.

Before we know it, we’re back at the hotel, and within the timeframe Peter had given us.

We say our thank you’s and goodbyes and slosh our way through the gaudy lobby, past the well-dressed bar crowd, and up to our room.

Yup, Bio-Luminescent Bay.

PR

Ah, PR.  No, not Public Relations– The better PR. Puerto Rico.

Taeko and I decided last month to take a last-minute trip to Puerto Rico.  Hey, we both needed a vacation– and bad.  Some sun, beer, and mindless relaxation was calling to me from the Caribbean.

As I may have mentioned before, instead of doing New Years Resolutions this year, I am making a different resolution for each month.  Shorter goals and more of them– maybe I’ll form some good habits by the end of the year.  Anyway, March’s goal was to do things that I wouldn’t normally do.  You know, branch out of the norm.  I even went to Brooklyn!

Well, a long weekend trip to a tropical island is not normally something I’d be willing to spend a lot of money on.  But as I said, it was much needed, and Taeko and I had the same Spring Break off of class, so I figured I’d give it a go.  Taeko’s easy to travel with, so that was even more convincing– we knew we’d be on the same page as far as the day-to-day, so there was no concerns to be raised.  We booked our trip and three weeks later we were on a (3.5-hour direct– so close!) flight to paradise!

We decided to go all-out (within reason, of course), and book a resort for four nights, five days.  Our resort was beautiful– looked a lot like a cruise ship, actually, which was kinda strange.  Multiple pools surrounded by cabanas, a beach just outside, and bars in every direction.  So nice.

We spent our time lounging around and being the lazy tourists I used to scorn when I worked on the other side of resorts. “Seriously? These people are getting drunk at 10am and going to burn their skin in they sit in the sun all day.  What idiots.”  Well, I was now that idiot drinking at 10am and sitting in the sun (within reason– and lots of sunscreen.  No burns for me!).  But hey, I was on vacation– there’s nothing wrong with a morning beer.  I was just bitter on ships; no one wants to be surrounded by people on vacation when you’re at work.  It’s tough.  Right?  Right.

Among the things Taeko and I did during our time in San Juan, the top few events were: 1) Convincing Taeko to sing karaoke in a bar for the first time. 2) Seeing old friends in San Juan– both Taeko and I have old friends who live there. 3) Going to Bio-Luminescent Bay.

You know what?  Number Three deserves its own post.  Please see next post for details.

School.

I’ll follow up my last post about textbooks with a post about school.

I don’t remember ever feeling particularly challenged in school until my last semester of college.  Now, I didn’t get A+ for every grade, nor did I disregard studying or classes or anything like that.  I tried to learn, I definitely made the effort.  And I was successful almost all of the time– obviously, considering I graduated.

But I don’t recall ever really stressing out about school, or pulling all-nighters in the library like other kids would.  How could you possibly study for 12 hours non-stop and still retain information?  That’s insane!

My philosophy was “If you don’t feel like doing it, don’t do it– your brain won’t work as well if you’re not in the right mindset.  When it feels right, it’s right.”  I guess you can apply that to a lot of things, but that was my take on school.  If I really, really didn’t want to write a paper, I didn’t.  Until one day I felt like being productive, I’d sit down, and I’d somehow spout out half of a paper in one seating.  Then I’d let it sit until I felt like finishing the second half, then I’d just do it.  If your heart (and mind) is not where it should be, then the quality of the product is going to be far less than what it could have been had you waited another hour or day.

Some call it procrastination, I call it good work ethic.  Do what you need to do, when you need to do it.  But make sure you’re in the right mindset, or else it won’t be worth it.

Now that I’ve bragged about my work ethic, I’m finding I’ve lost a lot of that this semester in school.

I’d just like to stress that I am only taking ONE course, and there’s no outstanding amount of workload, but working a full-time job really puts a damper on doing school work.  I spend all day working my brain at work, then get home to relax and find that there’s a paper waiting for me to write. Hmph.  Worse than the workload, though, is the guilt.

I find that for every one-hour worth of homework that I actually do, I spend another 40 hours feeling guilty about not having done it beforehand.  My weekends are spent complaining (to myself, mostly) about not wanting to do my schoolwork, yet I likely spend 1-3 hours actually doing what I should be doing.  Again, the workload is not huge, and the class isn’t way over my head– I just feel like I spend more time dreading doing my work than actually doing it.  This is something I need to get over.

As my school does not offer any summer courses for Graduate Students, my next semester will be in the Fall.  I am hoping to take 2-3 courses (depending on the schedule of the courses themselves, and how they can fit around my work), which may actually help me with my time management– knowing that I don’t have much time to spare may be just what I need to give me that push to actually DO my work, rather than THINK about doing my work.

Speaking of which, I should get back to work.

Textbooks.

I bought my books today.  Doing Race and Inquality and Society: Social Science Perspectives on Social Stratification.

 

My first class begins on Thursday, and it’s call Race, Class, and Power.  I feel like I did when I was preparing for my first day of high school– unsure of where my class was, concerned that I wouldn’t have the proper materials for the first day, worried about whether the other kids would be smarter than me or not.  I actually found myself texting my sister to ask if kids these days usually write in notebooks or if laptops have taken over the art of note-taking.  (As it turns out, it’s about half-and-half– I’ll stick to the simpler method, though: good ol’ pen and paper.)  Once I got to the bookstore, I found it surprisingly easy to locate my books, choose the ones I wanted, and walk out of the store prepared for class.  Amazingly, this did a huge favor in calming my first-day nerves.

As I used to in college, I decided I’d get a head start on my reading and study the first chapter or two in my new textbooks.  I found the nearest cafe, which also happens to be my new favorite hangout (and only two blocks from my house!), ordered a coffee, and opened up Inequality and Society.  I read a total of three paragraphs before my mind began to wander.

What was I doing reading a book on inequality when I could just look around me and likely learn just as much?  There I was, sitting at a cafe in Harlem, surrounded by people of all backgrounds, races, ethnicities, sexualities, classes– everything.

The 20-something East European girl working behind the counter with the 40-something Asian man.  The older black couple enjoying their scones in a corner.  The 20-something white guy, who was obviously a student and the epitome of the hipster movement (if you can call it that..?).  The 30-something white guy, who was well-dressed and spent his entire hour in the cafe talking on his iPhone.  A heavy-set late-teenage girl who sat eating a muffin on her own while reading a fashion magazine.  And the milk-delivery man, who looked to be in his 40s and of middle-eastern descent.  And that was just inside the cafe.

As I looked around at each of the patrons, I started to think of all of the different biases that could be taking place within this small space.  Granted, everyone was in their own realm of whatever they were doing, and weren’t likely paying much attention to those around them, but I found it entrancing.  I literally sat there watching people for over an hour.  Just watching.  What they wore, what gadgets they had, the type of winter coat slung on the back of their chair, what they ordered to drink, how they ate their food, whether they looked up when a new person walked through the door, and whether they acknowledged any of the other people sitting in the cafe with them– and if so, how.  I just couldn’t stop.

By the time I left the cafe, I’d established that cafes were not the ideal study spot for me if I planned on getting any studying done over the next semester.  I also established that I am positively in love with sociology and the study behind how society works.  And finally, I established that I am ready to go back to school and learn about it all.

 

Wish me luck!

Concordia.

Surely by now many of you have heard about the sinking of the Costa Concordia that happened on Friday night.

I have gotten messages from a lot of land-friends saying things like ‘Wow, thank God you don’t work on ships anymore!’  and ‘Must make you thankful that you left ships when you did..!’.

The truth?  All of this talk about the Concordia is actually making me reconsider my life on ships.

It may just be a phase, but my Facebook feed (obviously, the most influential aspect in my life) has been nothing but messages from my ship friends posting about the Concordia, their sympathy for fellow sea-faring crew, and realizations that the dreaded twice-weekly boat drills may not be entirely useless.

This camaraderie between cruise ship crew members is something that I truly miss about ships.  Enough that I am considering returning to my ship life.  Granted, this is not something I am going to do right away– I’m not ready to jump back on a ship and sail the world again.  But I am definitely taking it into account for my five-year plan.  Or, at least the five-year plan that I am now creating due to this eye-opening tragedy.

New York, of all places, is probably the least socially-bonding city I could have chosen to live in on my return to land.  It’s big, it’s lonely, and it’s full of people who are also lonely, but make little to no effort to welcome new friends into their lives.  New Yorkers are known for being cold.  Hell, Americans are known for being cold.  We just aren’t a culture of opening up to people right away.  That being said, I love New York and I love living here, but there’s no doubt about it– it’s a very lonely place to be.

Ships, for me, were the cause for a major change in my social life and social abilities.  Ships are a place where everyone opens up to one another, and consistently maintain a “we’re all in this together” mindset.  Sure, it can be pretty miserable at times.  You work hard, you do daily tasks you despise, and you live among adults who sleep in bunk beds and have little to no strong personal bonds in their lives that last longer than the length of a contract.  But that is why everyone bonds so quickly– it’s a floating vessel full of sociopaths and loners who can all open up to one another.  Surely, I am only voicing my personal opinion, which likely doesn’t accurately portray everyone’s view of ship life, but this is what I see.

After my first two contracts on ships, I came to the realization that I am one of those loners.  One of those ‘sociopaths’ (okay, I realize that ‘sociopath’ is a little strong, but you get the idea). I like bonding with people, but I am very particular about the people with whom I like to form long-time bonds with, so this is the perfect solution.  On land, people are not interested in short-term friendships or friendships with people whom they have little in common with.  On ships, all you have are short-term friendships and friendships with people whom you have little in common with.  That is what makes it so great– you make friends on ships that you would never befriend on land, and it works well, because they have the same mentality as you, and knowingly spending a few months with this person is not going to lock you into a lifelong commitment.  You’ll have fun with this particular group of people, and who knows– you might really bond with a few and keep them for long term– but the general understanding is that they are ‘ship friends’.  Friends you have on ships, who you love to spend time with on ships, but it just wouldn’t work on land.

Now that I’ve painted an awful portrait of my opinion of shipboard friendships, I have to defend it by saying that the camaraderie is stronger than anything I’ve had on land.  And I miss that.

Putting together a Pros/Cons list this afternoon about my return to ships came down to this:

Pros

-Travel

-Constant New Experiences

-Constant New Friends

-More Savings

-Overall, more fun.

Cons

-Lack in Career Development

-The Haunting Thought that I ‘Failed on Land’

-I wouldn’t be able to continue my education (as I am currently planning to get my masters degree this Fall)

-Bunk Beds and Roomshares

-Maybe I’d go back and realize why I left in the first place.

-Maybe I’d go back and and wouldn’t realize why I left in the first place, and I’d become a ‘lifer’, unable to return to life on land.  Ever.

Regardless, I’ve got plenty of time.  Although I’ve set a rule for myself that if I plan to return to ships, I cannot do so if I am older than 25.  I’m not sure why I chose that number, but I feel like between 18 and 25 is the time to travel, have fun, and not worry (as much) about career paths.  After 25, I have to start making responsible choices.  Don’t judge me on this thought– I know it’s ridiculous and completely unreasonable, but hey– so am I.

Also, here’s a thought that’s been haunting me about the Concordia: Considering the majority of crew members are onboard  because it is the only means of making money to support their families at home, probably at least 70% of them will have to return to a ship in just a month or two after this horrific experience.  Awful, isn’t it?  My heart goes out to the crew members who are in this position, as well as the entirety of the crew that lost what was likely the majority of their most valued possessions– family photos, drawings from their children, and anything else that they brought with them from ship to ship to make them feel a little bit more at home.

Into Thin Air.

When anyone returns from a trip out of town, they are pummeled with the vague curiosity of ‘How was your trip?’.  Friends, family, coworkers, acquaintances– everyone asks the same question, regardless of your relationship or their interest.

In return, who knows what kind of answer they are expecting?  A quick “Great! It was amazing!” or a “Good– I spent all of my days on the beach with a beer and a book– the perfect vacation!” or something far more in depth?  I suppose it depends on the person, the location, the timing, and the actual interest they have invested in the trip itself.  Regardless, I find it difficult to measure.

I recently returned from a last-minute one-week trip to Beijing, where I was visiting my parents.  I’d never been to China, and hadn’t even been to the Far East for eight years, but I decided last minute that with the cheap ticket I found, my flexible work schedule, and my ache for travel, it was a good idea.  Also, the bonus of seeing my parents after a full year and the fact that I’d essentially only be paying for the ticket and visa, and my parents would cover the rest– how could I go wrong?

In the one week before I jetted off to Asia, I psyched myself up for my travels– the Forbidden City, the Great Wall, the Temple of Heaven.  I had to see it all– Heck, I was only there for a week, and who knows when I would be back?  I watched a few movies, read a few Wikipedia articles, and ripened my knowledge of Chinese culture and history so I wouldn’t walk in like a complete fool.  I was ready.

My first major ‘Aha’ moment came when I was flying into my layover destination: Dubai.  With a sister no more than one hour away from the airport, it was difficult to know I was so close yet unable to see her with my tight transit time.  Regardless, I was eager to take a very brief look into the terrain and culture that she had been living in.  As we approached Dubai, I could see the Burj Al Arab, Palm Island, and the Burj Khalifa.  I could see the beaches, the compounds, and the desert.  Wow, I was there.  I was in Dubai.

I sat in the airport for three hours between connections, sipped on a Starbucks coffee and lounged in various chairs until my flight was to board.  I got on my flight to Beijing, and watched out the window as we departed, miles and miles of desert passing below us.  I eventually closed the window and took a much-needed nap.

A couple hours later, I was awoken by a lot of loud Chinese chatter.  I asked the man sitting next to me what everyone was saying, and he told me to open my window.  I slid up the blind and saw exactly what the fuss was about: we were directly above the Himalayas.  Seriously, directly above the Himalayas.  I couldn’t believe it– these massive snow-capped mountains lay below us, and just a few hours before we’d been surrounded by arid desert for miles.

Despite the absolute beauty of the peaks, I found myself in awe of the situation: I’d been to the Himalayas when I traveled through India and Nepal with my family in 1998.  I’d been longing to go back ever since, Nepal having burrowed itself deep in my heart.  I dreamt year after year of my family’s return to Nepal– We all fell equally in love with the mountainous glory of the country.  And here I was– a last-minute purchase I’d made to jet off to Beijing brought me directly above the place I’d been dreaming of for years.

I kept thinking: This is the way life should be lived.  With the flexibility to travel and discover and rediscover and see all the places you’ve always dreamt of– the only thing standing between us and that dream is likely time and money.  But I can almost guarantee that if you work hard over the course of a year and spend moderately, you’ll have enough savings to buy a flight and the necessary amenities for your travel (of course, this also depends on your destination and type of travel, but it can be done in most places).  Even if only for a week.

Basically, that moment over the Himalayas gave me an entirely new perspective on my life and how I should be living it.  I did something completely out of character for me: I made a snap decision to spend lots of money and take several days from work.  I knew it was a bit irresponsible, and my bosses weren’t thrilled with me leaving with so little notice (I also went over my vacation days by two– so I am in the hole for next year.  Yikes.).  But it was a great decision I made, and I am proud that I was able to do that.  Next time, I’ll just have to give a little more notice, but it is entirely possible.

And then I got to Beijing.

Big, Icy Christmas Snowball.

Fast forward a couple months, and I am sitting on my bed the weekend before Christmas, finding myself wondering how Christmas could have possible snuck up on me so quickly.

Could it be because it’s still 50 F degrees outside as opposed to 30 F, freezing, and a wonderland of white?

Could it be because I spent last week in China visiting my parents, preventing me from getting my full dosage of Christmas exposure?

Or could it be that I simply have not drank enough eggnog?

Regardless, Christmas is nearly here, and I find myself feeling like I’ve been hit in the face with a big, icy Christmas snowball.

This year I put together a bit of a Secret Santa Holiday Party for my office, which at this point consists of eight men, our office, and plenty of booze.  Oh, and presents.  And me.  I’ve definitely not put forth my 100% effort to assemble this party, but half of the office is Jewish, anyway, so it’s not like I have a tough audience.

Anyway, I went shopping for my Secret Santa gift today, and realized that the last weekend before Christmas is not the time to do Christmas shopping.  I figured that while I was out shopping, I may as well get myself into the spirit of Christmas as much as I possible could.  Besides, New York is the most Christmassy city in the world– this should be easy.

I did everything right: I bought a warm drink and sipped on it in a cafe, I went into four different stores to sense the holiday cheer, I was extra kind to those I spoke with, cheerfully wishing everyone a happy holiday, and I even bought wrapping paper, which so perfectly peaked out of the top of by Duane Reade bag, giving off the true essence of the season.

I got home, settled into the couch in our living room, turned on the Christmas lights that line the window and twirl around our nearly 3-foot fir.  I sipped eggnog, watched Christmas films, and downloaded an entire playlist of Christmas music, which I am listening to as I type.

But you know what?  I still don’t feel it.

Where is my mind?  And why is it not on Christmas?  Is there something I’m missing?  I’ve been to two holiday parties already, I’ve eaten Christmas cookies, I’ve had cider beer at a pub, I’ve sipped an eggnog steamer.  What else is there?

As it turns out, we’ll have all four sisters together in New York for Christmas and New Years, a reunion that was originally scheduled to happen this Summer on the West Coast, but fell through last-minute, leaving only three sisters together.  Christmas was going to be the same three sisters again, until just last week the fourth T decided to join the gang and booked a ticket out to New York.  So that means four of us, which has not happened since Christmas of 2008 in New York City.  Funny how these things work out.

I’m hoping the coming-together of family (minus parents) will bring on the holiday cheer and get me in the Christmas mood, where I should be.  Bring on the sisters.

 

Great People.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve gotten the chance to have ‘reunions’ with several of the friends I’ve made from ships.  Now, seeing friends from my past is not an unusual thing– In fact, by now you’re probably tired of listening to all of my ‘small world’ stories.  But not to worry, this post is not about how small the world is.

It’s actually about people.  And how amazing people can be.

Basically, on cruise ships, you make friends with the people around you.  Whether you have a lot in common with them or not, they’re who you spend the most time with.  So, naturally, I assumed that once I left ships and saw people on land again, after the initial three-hour reminiscing period, we wouldn’t have anything else to talk about.  We simply wouldn’t have any commonalities outside of our ship lives.

Fortunately, this has not been the case at all with my past few visits.

None of the past three friends that I have seen here were of my ‘closest’ friends on ships, but what I am finding is that I wish I had been closer with them when I had the chance.  I quickly discovered in our one-on-one time together they are all simply fantastic people.  The kind of people that just make you feel good.  Lighter than air.  And it just so happens that none of them even know each other, but they coincidentally are all equally amazing to be around.

And that’s not to say that all ship people are amazing people– granted, there are a lot of great people whom I’ve met over the years, but these people stuck out amongst the rest.  But not necessarily until I met them on land, away from the ship, its people, and its general mindset and contagious vibe.

Basically, it reassures me that 1) I will always be surrounded by amazing people– it’s just a matter of meeting them in the right setting before I realize their true caliber of extraordinaire. 2) I am an excellent judge of friends and character (duh.), and 3) there are some truly fabulous people in this world, and in my life.  Even if I do only see them once every year or two (or more).

Aren’t I lucky?

Master.

This was a big week for me.

I got a raise, I got health insurance, I now have shorter work hours, and I decided that I want to get my masters degree.  All that on top of three consecutive days of bar-hopping makes for a pretty overwhelming time.

So, the masters.  Ever since I graduated with my bachelor’s degree, I knew I wanted to get a masters.  I also knew that I loved sociology.  And I also knew that I was too young (19) to decide what I wanted to get my masters in and spend thousands of dollars on it.

Well, on Monday evening I came across a high school World History textbook  in my apartment’s bookshelf that a previous roommate had left behind (she was a high school teacher).  Automatically, I snatched up the book and brought it back to my room, eager to make it my next read.

That made me think.  I must really love to learn if a textbook is my book of choice.  On top of that, I’m excited to write the essays and answer the questions at the end of every section of every chapter.  Is that normal?  I mean, if I love to learn so much, why am I not taking classes?  And if I am going to take classes, why not get a degree out of it?

I thought a little more, and came to the realization that I’ve been out of school for three years now, and I still love sociology as much as I did the day I left college, as well as the day I started college.  That’s five years of loving sociology, which gives me a pretty good feeling that this just might be something that I truly love.

As it turns out, there is a City University of New York (CUNY) campus not more than three blocks from my house, and of all of the CUNY campuses (there are about ten throughout the city), this one happens to have the coursework and program that I am most interested in.  On top of that, it’s a commuter school, so having classes after work won’t be a problem for me, and tuition is crazy affordable for New York residents.

… And although I am not a New York resident quite yet, I plan on getting my residency in the next year, which would make me available to start classes in Fall 2012 (I was hoping for Spring 2012, but I don’t want to be spending full out-of-state tuition prices).

The next step is getting all of the material together, which may be tricky as I have very few academic sources that I can reach out to for letters of recommendations.  Definitely one of the downsides to graduating from Acadia in 1 1/2 years– it’s not much time to build strong relationships with professors.  I am sure I’ll figure something out.  In the meantime, I’ve been looking around thrift shops for any interesting sociology books to brush me up on my studies.

At this point, I feel like I have forgotten most of what I have learned, ranging from the theorists to the theories to the subjects within the program– College was such a whirlwind that I am finding it difficult to recall my past studies.  Ah well, I have about a year to pull myself together, which shouldn’t be an issue at all– after all,  I love sociology.  And I love to learn.

Anyway, this is something that I am really excited about, so I actually feel like it’s something that I’ll go through with.  And the raise, better hours, and insurance are just toppings on the sundae.

Not a bad week.  Not at all.  Plus, it’s fall!  Beautiful fall in NYC, you can’t go wrong.

To Vacation or Not to Vacation?

I recently discovered (and by recently, I mean today) that I have a few more vacation days than I had thought, and that my vacation days do not roll over to next year.  So… I guess it’s time to take a vacation.

I just got back from my West Coast trip not more than two weeks ago, so it seems a little premature to be thinking of vacation time, but before I know it, it will already be November and my time will be almost out, so I’ve got to take this thing on right here, right now.  So here are the criteria:

About six days’ worth of vacation (including the weekend)

Somewhere warm

Preferably somewhere where I know someone (and therefore have company/cheap place to stay)

Somewhere that is not too far to travel

So… those criteria alone make this a little tricky.  Basically, Caribbean, Texas, Florida, or Mexico.  OR option number two: staycation!  If Talya ends up coming to the city over Christmas, I can very likely just take those four vacation days off to spend with her.  Granted, it won’t be warm here, but a little sister time has more value than sitting alone on a beach somewhere.  Right?  Right.  Plus, it’s cheaper, so I can save for another vacation next year, which…

Will likely be to Greece in late July to see my family.  Which means that I will spend most of my vacation days on that trip, and therefore have to wait 10 more months before I’d get on another vacation.  Unless I take a real one in December.  Which leads me back to square one…  Sigh.

Vacation or  Staycation.  That is the question.