That's All Folks

I live at home in the bedroom I have had since I was 12 years old and I work for my Mother. I head 80% of the Communication and Social Media projects around the office. My contract ends in July and then I have to figure out what I really want to do with my life. So I have a little less than a year left in the place I grew up before really taking off - and not just for 6 months and then coming back. This next move is a permanent one in the sense that now, permanently, my home will just be a vacation spot, rather than a solid destination.

I need this year though. It's amazing how much money you can spend in Europe. I am pretty crazy when it comes to saving money. I have a pretty high threshold I like my savings account to be at and I hate the feeling of wanting something I can't afford - so I typically work 2 jobs to be able to afford anything I need and want. Well I guess since being in Europe, it's gotten harder to get a job...who would have thought. So I need a year to build my savings account back to that threshold and to polish my resume just a bit more to be able to get a better than entry-level job once I move to the city.

I am looking at Boston or DC as viable cities to move to and I really want to write once I get there. I loved keeping this blog and if I could translate that feeling over into a career than I would be the luckiest girl in the world. So if anyone knows jobs where you can make 6 figures a year while being a write, please, please let me know! Also if anyone has any connections in Boston or DC that they think I would be a good fit with, please let me know. I am starting this new thing where I am going to interview successful people in and around my hometown just to get a sense of the skills set I am going to need in order to reach the same success. So even just an interview would be great!

I am pretty lucky that I worked really hard on my resume while I was in college, so I have some great real life experience with big name companies that will help me get ahead. But I am excited about the persona I can bring into any interview room now that I am home from Europe.

I feel really good about myself. When I returned home from Europe, I was a bridesmaid in a wedding and the groomsmen who walked me down the aisle said that he defines success as how interesting or uninteresting you are. That's a perfect definition. It takes away all of the material things that define success and leaves it up to a really abstract interpretation.

So right now that's what I am aiming for. I want to become as interesting as possible. Which means I'm always going to have to keep exploring, traveling, working hard, learning etc. What I am applying to my life are the lessons I learned during my 6 months in Europe and I think that those lessons are going to get me, one step of the way, to becoming wildly successful.

1) When I read a newspaper the world itself is put in such a different context for me. Everything is smaller and I understand how things are interrelated, more than ever.

2) I have started taking French lessons and when I choose to learn something on my own time, I find, I am 10 times more interested in it than when I was an actual student in a classroom.

3) There is a comfort with yourself that begins to grow every year your birthday passes. The understanding I have that sometimes we just aren't compatible with other people feels great. Just b/c others want you to change or perhaps you don't see eye to eye with someone doesn't mean you're necessarily wrong. It really is ok to agree to disagree and just be done with it.

4) If I can navigate a subway system in multiple different countries and languages, I can move ANYWHERE in America. The fear of leaving home doesn't exist anymore, b/c I have already done it.

5) I feel less and less that I have something prove to people. One of the biggest things I have been afraid of is that it would be difficult to leave my hometown that has the tendency to make it difficult for people to actually move away from it. Now I know that I can live independently and go out on my my own. So yes, I do want to move away from Fryeburg, but I don't want to move across the country just to prove something. And that feels really good.

6) I am more comfortable with being honest about my opinions and feelings. I don't feel like I need to hide from how I really feel when having an open forum with a friend and I am not so afraid of what I want to say. If it's real and honest, then that's all I can and others around me can ask for.

I am sure I am forgetting about a billion things I learned while traveling around, but that's ok. Those top 6 are pretty good ones and for the rest, I will just make sure I write them down in a journal or a random post-it note lying around in my office.

For now, this blog is done. It will be a relic of the past 8 months of my life that were just amazing. I saw and did a lot of things that not many people are lucky enough to do. I am very blessed with my life experiences at just the young age of 23. It makes me excited about what the rest of my life will hold. If I could fit this much excitement into almost a year, what can I fit into the next 5 or 10?

Definitely not kids, but what about entertaining the idea of a relationship? I still think I am too young, but I am definitely not too young to think about the type of qualities I am willing to commit to. A job - that is definite. My Dad says that if I can't find the perfect job that fulfills my passion then don't take it, keep traveling. Life is too short to be doing something you hate during a time when I should be pushing the limits of all angles in my life. After all there is a direct correlation between how happy you are in a job to how successful you are in it. (And there is so much more in Europe to see. The Scandinavian Countries, Croatia, Scotland, England, Poland, more of France to practice my ever growing French. Plus I want to back pack in Costa Rica and ski and drink wine in Chile...)

So I have a lot to look forward to and lot to work towards. But for now, until the next adventure, that's all folks!

OH! And for anyone who is wondering. I bought myself an awesome 2007 Limited Subaru Outback upon my return to make up for my totaled Jeep!

Just Jump Right In

One of the major commandments working in a social media related job is to stay current. When blogging or Facebook or Twitter posting you have to stay consistent, so you better stick to a schedule of posting 3 times a day or once a week, etc. and never skip a beat. Otherwise your followers will forget about you and become disinterested b/c you no longer serve a purpose that is relevant to their lives. By saying this, I realize I have broken that major golden rule. Not only have I stopped posting on a regular basis, my last real consistent post was a month ago and I returned home from Europe on August 25th, meaning it has taken me over 2 months to wrap this blog up.

That's pretty bad. I am pretty sure I have forfeited any right I have to expect that anyone will read this, but that's ok. Better late than never?

It's not that I don't enjoy writing my blog or that I had nothing to write. I just couldn't figure out what I wanted to say to bring this 8 month blog to a close. It's funny how life changes so quickly that you forget to write about it. I registered for this blog in my Mother's office 3 days before driving out West to work at Schweitzer. Now I am writing my last post in this very office. Since being out West and in Europe 2 close friends have moved into my house making it necessary to find a quiet moment any time and anywhere.

Surprise, surprise life changes. My last stop of my European trip was spent in Italy. The best thing I can tell you about that is, don't go in August. The city is just packed with tourists - mostly Canadians and Australians and you would be hard pressed to find a real Italian. (Almost as hard as finding a real Indian in America.)

Instead of enjoying the different sights you're just herded through them b/c those operating The Colosseum or Trevi Fountain just want to maximize profit. I went into a shop to have a gelato and they were going to charge me 12 euros. Yeah, definitely don't go to Italy in the Summer and stay away from Rome. Other than that, it's a beautiful country!

I ended up staying at a campsite and sharing a little shack with another Australian who had been traveling for 3 months. I was so thankful for being able to travel around Europe for 6 months without having even one dangerous encounter that I didn't want to risk anything on my last day. I stayed by the campsite's pool with a book all day to ensure that I didn't get pick-pocketed or mugged in the city. My roommate and I made dinner together that night and she asked me how I felt to be going home. That my trip was finally coming to an end.

I didn't have a very good answer for her. I didn't feel anything. Life is all about cycles and processes and me going home was just the end of one cycle and the beginning of a new one. Life is what it is. I felt as though my feelings should be bigger than that though. Everyone else thought I should have a tremendous feeling about going home, therefore I thought I should be as well...but I didn't.

And I still don't. What I do feel is lucky, more grown-up, more aware, more interesting, more brave more secure. Sometimes, I will be working at my desk or watching TV or hanging out with friends and I will have a moment where I remember my room in my dorm or the fire pit where we used to grill or the bier garten we all used to hang out at and I will be in disbelief that I am a part of those memories. And of course I miss the fact that I can't see the people I spent so much time with, especially knowing how difficult it will be to see them again - if ever.

It's easy to laugh at my lifestyle. When I explain what I was doing over in Europe, people just look at me with one of three faces, jealousy, disbelief or excitement. People are not wrong when they make the assumption from my story telling that I literally had a 6 month vacation and somehow I figured out a way to get a scholarship to pay for most of it. Even I didn't think I had those kind of smarts. My diploma from UMaine came in a few weeks ago and I officially have my Bachelor's degree in Business and Marketing, but perhaps they should also think about giving me an honorary degree in cheating the system or finding a loop-hole. Those qualities typically make the best business(wo)men, right?

So my life was kind of cush...but I learned a lot...

Ehhhh

I was fortunate enough to go to a semi-private school complete with dorms and exchange students. When I was 13 years old we had a German student come and share the holidays and weekends with us since it was too expensive for her to fly back and forth.

Because of that, we now have a lifelong friendship and are lucky enough to have the ability to travel and see each other. Which is nice to have b/c honestly, now that I am home, it can be difficult to motivate myself to get dressed and ready to visit friends in the next town over after a day at work. Seriously, I am 60 before I even turn 23.

But back when I was motivated, my Mom and I met our friend in Belgium. A pretty mellow city. It is kind of like a Kia....pretty boring, but it "has the power to surprise." It really doesn't showcase itself as a crazy, raging city, with something to offer around every corner, but there are a few gems that make it worth 24 hours of your time.

Those few things are: Delirium Bar...40 beers on tap, and that's only the first floor and chocolate...all the chocolate you never knew you needed and Speculaas, the Belgian specialty cookie that is a lot like a ginger snap. (Even Belgium's official cookie is one of the worst in the cabinet, but like I said, with their power to surprise, this cookie is awesome...I ate an entire package to myself.)

The Boy Who Can Piss. I kid you not, it's a real thing and there is a girl version of it on the other side of the city. Although she is delicately squatting. And for any girl out there, you know, it's not easy to pop a squat.

Since chocolataries are rampant in Belgium, we passed by what we thought was another wonderful display of chocolate. After looking at the display intently for a good 45 seconds to a minute we realized that yes indeed it was a chocolate shop, but it was also a sex shop, with chocolate unmentionables. I felt a little like a degenerate, just staring at these things so.

My favorite part though, was that one of the sayings on the window says "The G-Spot does exist." Yes, yes it does.

The buildings in the Grand Square were gorgeous. They were all outlined in gold and for a country that gets a pretty boring rep, their buildings are beautiful.

The Delirium Bar, which was an absolute must. I can never find Delirium Tremens anywhere, except for this really obscure bar in Lovell, Maine. And I love Delirium Tremens passionately. I was so excited to see the 40 beers on tap on just the first floor. They had bars dedicated to specific type of liquors and the bar downstairs boasted a menu of beers so thick it was like reading Vogue Magazine.

It was Mussel season when we visited and we had the pleasure of enjoying these muscles in a French run restaurant. You have to hand it to the French! This picture is beautiful and it's not just because I took it.

Acceptance

Thank you to all of my loyal readers - yes there are some of you out there. These last few posts are very overdue. There wasn't any time to write them while I was still traveling and then once I got home, it really doesn't feel as though I was ever really traveling at all. It seems kind of like a dream.

But it wasn't. After France my Mother and I hopped on a train to Amsterdam. This country is by far in my top three countries I have been to. I felt like Alice in Wonderland while walking down the streets, but I think that is a good thing. For example bikes are really popular in Amsterdam. Some people even strap on a back seat and charge tourists money to be carted around. This was something my Mom and I just had to experience. So we hopped into a bicycle/car that had a zebra print frame. It's only appropriate.

First our driver took us to the wrong end of the city, so once he realized this, without telling us, he biked us 40 minutes to the other side of the city. All the while talking to us in Spanish and he also got stung by a bee. After all of this went down he asked us to get out of his cab (I guess he got tired of carting round over 300 pounds of human weight.) We paid, got out, and realized we had no idea where we were. A feeling that really encompasses Amsterdam!

The famous "coffee" shop. This made an appearance in Oceans 12.

Pot isn't legal, it's just decriminalized. Heroin is a much bigger problem, so the government feels that it's more important to spend money on fixing the Heroin problem then fixing a Marijauna problem. After all, you can't die from Pot. (Perhaps America should take this on as a format for their own "war" on drugs.)

Anyway, just follow the smell and you will find a "coffee" shop. It's an interesting enterprise and the set-up is pretty cool and professional. You can go in and order a cappuccino and the finest herb rolled into a perfect joint if you really wanted to.

Canals, canals, canals

The door to Anne Frank's hideaway.

I have seen the Jewish Cemetery in Prague, the Jewish Memorial in Berlin, Hitler's Bunker, the American Cemetery in Normandy, Omaha Beach and Anne Frank's Annex. WWII came full circle during my travels.

There isn't really a way for me to describe what that feels like, because even though I have seen all of these things, I still can't imagine what it would be like to live behind a bookcase in fear all the time.

This was a son of wealthy tea importer during the East India Company's reign. He started taking over to learn the ropes and was horrified at how all of the low class workers were treated. So he came back to Amsterdam and started writing about what he saw under the pen name Multatuli. This literally translates in Dutch to "I have ejaculated," but to the Dutch, it means "I have carried much." Well since that's in the past tense, maybe he was able to lighten his load...if you know what I mean.

If you notice, the house to the right is leaning out a little bit. Every other house is shifted like this b/c the halls are so narrow that people have to bring their furnishings in by pulley outside the windows. But I think this just adds to the whole "Alice in Wonderland" feel.

This was once the Jewish Quarter. After WWII was over, the people of Amsterdam felt that something had to be done to brighten up this part of the city to help people move on. So they let those studying at the city's art institutes design and paint the buildings. This was when cubism was really popular, if you can notice or not.

Just one small example of how popular biking is as an alternative in Amsterdam.

One thing that was really cool about Amsterdam is how accepting it is as a country. Yes they allow prostitution and you can buy weed from a store in broad daylight, but it's more than that. They have a huge memorial to Homosexuality on one street and they are one of the only countries that is known for actually protesting Jewish treatment during WWII on the streets. The rioted and protested and helped beat Nazi soldiers when civilians started seeing what was really going on in the Jewish Quarter.

I think that is amazing and something that should really be focused on. And you could feel the acceptance in the air. People weren't afraid of being who they were and displaying it proudly.

Quality over quantity

I proudly admitted in my last post that, of course I am reading another Malcolm Gladwell book. One I am desperately trying to hold onto until my flight, but my last day in Rome was spent by a swimming pool in 90 degree weather so I am 2/3's of the way through with it. I don’t think 1/3 of a book is going to sustain a transcontinental flight. (Can you believe I am coming home...and EVERYONE should read Malcolm Gladwell books!)

One of many passages in this book have really caught my attention and I keep rolling it around and around in my head. It’s a really meaningful study on relationships and the context they create in our lives.

Social scientists have been able to put backing to human’s natural threshold to understand, process and hold onto information. It is called our “channel capacity.” When using it for categories such as dividing between pitch changes in a song or the amount of sugar in different drinks, humans can usually differentiate up to six points on the spectrum. After that, tastes and sounds begin to blur together. That is why telephone numbers are only 7 digits long, b/c after that humans would begin to forget them and many wrong numbers would be dialed.

The same idea applies to human relationships, called the social channel limit. We only have the space to foster so many personal relationships. And by relationships Gladwell means, not just the ones for acquaintences or colleagues at work, but the ones where you really know someone and understand their strengths and weaknesses. Because let’s face it, to have a really good friend requires an investment of time and energy and feeling. Things that just can’t be expended on random people. (Really think about how much energy it takes to actually feel something. It's probably more energy than you work out during a gym session.)

British anthropologist, Robin Dunbar explains that the neocortex of a human brain, the part responsible for complex thought and reasoning, is the biggest of all mammals. We can handle having relationships that branch out beyond just a few people. Dunbar came up with a ratio that shows the relationship of the neocortex to the size of the brain as a whole. It gets larger as you head up the chain of primates, but Homo Sapiens maximize at a ratio estimate of roughly 150. This represents the maximum number of people we can have a genuine relationship with. The number of people within a circle of friends or group of people that “you would not feel embarrassed about joining uninvited for a drink if you happened to bump into them in a bar.” Gladwell's words, not mine!

So does this seem a little crazy or frou-frou to you? Sure social science can sometimes be easily disregarded, but if you look around you, examples of the 150 group limit pop up all over. Hunter-gatherer tribes from the Walbiri of Australia to the Tauade of New Guinea or the Ammassalik of Greenland to the Ona of Tierra del Fuego, the average group rate is 148. Units in the military don’t exceed 150 people and many Hutterite clans (distant relatives to the Amish or Mennonites) have a policy that splits the clan in half once it hits a capacity of 150. The Gore-Tex company does the same thing once a plant hits that magic number. (And it seems to be working for them b/c they have brought in growth earnings consistently for the past 35 years.)

These findings make relationships more meaningful. There is science behind the way we categorize the people in our lives and it puts a backing into the way we feel. I like that, b/c I would agree with the description that many have given me about the meaning I attach to the people in my lives. I can admit that I am horribly emotionally stunted about 85% of the time, but I care deeply about those that I let in my life. Whether it's for a lifetime or a brief period of time. I like the effort that goes into getting to know someone and doing something nice for them. Something, whether it is a gift or compliment or sympathy or a good laugh, that is perfectly tailored to them, that you know they will just love and appreciate. Those in my group of 150 know that even my most monotonous tone or lack of ability to handle crying or even hold your hand for more than 3 seconds is just a barrier behind all the things I really mean and want to say, which is, I am really glad you're in my life! You're worth the effort! (What can I say, I am a work in progress!)

When in Rome

I am in Europe so rule number one, I should be smoking, right? I mean seriously, when in Rome, do as the Roman’s do. I should just light one of those sticks of style up and blow the smoke out in rings hoping that it captures the essence of what I think would give me the final missing piece to my trip.

I will admit it, I have indulged in a clove or two or three…packs in high school. During the time when I was trying to prove that I was a bad ass and didn’t need to fit into the confines of any criteria, while still following the rules of my rural, girly and protected upbringing. Then of course it lead to a pattern of having a Black and Mild 3-4 times a week in college. A relationship I found myself in at that point in my life depended on long conversations sitting in my car while swapping the cheap stoagie back and forth. At that smoking stage in my life, being able to handle such a rugged smoke made me feel powerful. Like I was a chick that stood out and that you couldn’t mess with. An important feeling for a fledgling 18 year old.

Of course I can read this now and understand how ridiculous and trashy that sounds. And I can also laugh at myself for ever thinking yellow teeth and a constant rattly cough was sexy. But there is logic behind it. I can’t take credit for coming up with it myself b/c I read it in this book I am reading (yes, the same one that also gave me the inspiration for my next post….this book is SO good!) It's called the Tipping Point, by Malcolm Gladwell. It tries to explain social epidemics and the behavior amongst social trends and such, ranging from the explosion of Hush Puppies in the 90’s to Paul Revere’s ride during the Revolutionary War to suicide and teenage smoking.

And so the logic begins…public campaigns have been giving a die-hard try to get teens to stay away from smokng, but their smoking has only increased. It is kind of like the same principle of if a parent vehemently forbids you to do something, you are going to do that something to an infinite exponent just out of spite. So of course there have been even more studies conducted on this phenomenon and when asked how many years smokers were subtracting from their life span due to their nasty habit, the averge guess was 9 years. The actual answer is 6. Smokers are so aware of the negative effects of their habit that they overestimate their chances of dying. This is not a huge factor smokers consider or even care about when they buy their next pack.

So obviously the anti-smoking campaigns that focuses on the health detriments are null and void. A waste of time and money even. So another round of studies asking 20-30 year old smokers to describe their first experiences with smoking in order to identify the real reason people pick up cigarettes, had a lot of correlation.

Everyone told stories of their grandmother or mother or high school friend or babysitter smoking. And they all used descriptions such as “ My mother had long-tapered fingers holding the cigarette with crinkly lips wearing rouge with such a devil may care attittde” or “My English Nanny one Summer never wore a bra and woud do handstands at the beach for all the boys to see and she smoked” or “My best guy friend in high school would roll a cigerrette on a Grateful Dead record” or “my grandmother’s purse always smelled of cinnamon gum, leather, lipstick and cheap Winstons.”

These responses and stories all seemed to show a few common themes. One was that smoking was associated with sophistication and the idea that all those that smoked were cool. They were cutting edge and didn’t care what anyone thought of them. And if you smoke publicly, you really can’t care what others think of you b/c you know that at least 55% of the population looks at you in disgust or as if you're ruining the essence that surrounds them.

Going even further with this study, these feelings of independence and mental care-freeness led to smokers having better sex lives, being more of a risk taker, lyng less (b/c when you light up, you're basically putting your worst card on the table for everyone to gander at) and always being an extrovert at a party.

I particurly love the the last story about the Grandmother’s purse because my Grandmother was an avid smoker. I distinctly remember walking into her bedroom and seeing a triangle of cigarette cartons waiting to be smoked, which started with 13 packs as its base and moving up to 1 pack at the point.

That’s 91 packs and probably close to 2,000 individual sticks, that probably only lasted my grandmother a week at best. I am not sure that it was despite the cigarettes or because of them, but my Grandmother was so glamourous and beautiful. Her hair was always done and she would wear elaborate outfits with jewelry and lipstick to match and she always had a diet coke in her hand and her cocker spaniel dog at her side. No one messed with her – least of all me. And true to real smoker form, she was always throwing sophisticated parties and she was always a risk taker and she always told the truth no matter how cutting it may have been to me or anyone else.

Those are all things I want to be. I want to be more extroverted and I want to be less risk averse and I want to keep things on a more even keel with honesty. I just want to be more real. So should I take up smoking, where at least EVERYONE does it over here?

Because I remember those are all things I used to feel on a really cold winter’s night when I was sitting outside looking at the stars, deep in conversation exhaling that vanilla flavored smoke.

While this account of social behavior was fascinating and made me fondly reflect on my own past, I am going to stay glamorous and risk-taking and honest without a stick in my hand. I partake in the occasional cigar, but I really hate the taste of smoke now and I hate how it sticks to my clothes and hair. And few things in life are as important as a beautiful smile, but it is interesting that something so understandably bad for you could produce such strong feelings of independence and I think that is something that really works for Europeans. I mean really, it’s something that works for everyone.

Full Circle

One of the best parts of traveling with your Mother is that she will take you on sophisticated trips where you stay in an actual hotel and have 5 star meals served to you. You also see things that may not have made it on the itinerary b/c Blind Booking didn't fly into the city you may have wanted it to.

So because of Mother love, I was able to see the American Cemetery in Normandy. We spent a week on a river cruise up the Seine and our big stop was Normandy. After all of the memorials I have seen in and around Germany regarding WWII, it brought everything to a close to be able to see the American perspective of it. We were able to see the cemetery that over 9,000 American Soldiers call home and we were able to walk on the Omaha Beach they stormed.

I have mentioned before that I since living in Europe I have become obsessed with WWII. I research it all the time and I am always searching for the same thing. I can read countless facts, many personal accounts and as much background history on it as I want. But what I really want is to know exactly how it feels to be a soldier going into battle or to know how it feels to have your people persecuted. Because that way maybe I could understand how a catastrophe like WWII could happen.

Part of the Omaha Beach, we stormed.

Garden of the Missing. The wall displays all of the names of the soldier's that were never found.

the ceiling of the chapel at the end of the cemetery. It represents America saying goodbye to all of her lost son's.

German bunker.

Just had to take this picture to show that even something beautiful could grow out of such ugliness.

Crater that a bomb left.

Sarah and I weren't sure if it's appropriate to smile or take funny pictures at such a serious place, but a photo without people smiling it is too depressing and so is just a cement hole.

The terrain that soldiers had to navigate as they fought the Germans during D-Day.