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.