Capital

I think I lack career capital.  Now, I’m not sure if that’s an actual term but it’s one I’ve coined to explain my predicament.  So, what do I mean?

Have you ever heard the term cultural capital?  I don’t remember where I learned it, but I’ve interpreted it as knowledge of how the system works.  So, if you have cultural capital, then you can use your knowledge of the system to your advantage.  I always heard it in the context of students—kids with cultural capital did relatively well in school.  They knew how to study, how to manage their time, which classes to take, how to take tests.  They did all the right things.  They look good on paper. 

I think I probably have cultural capital.  I graduated fourth in my class from high school (out of over 800 kids), I got over 1500 on my SATs, I went to an Ivy League college, I was inducted into Phi Beta Kappa, and I went to a top business school.  All the right things.

So, why am I where I am?  If you look at my educational record you might conclude that I’m fairly bright (does that sound egotistical?), organised, motivated—a high achiever.  So, why haven’t I achieved anything in my working life?

This is where career capital comes in.  Just as how I knew how to navigate the educational system, I have no idea how to navigate employment. 

I think most of my current problems could have been avoided if I understood the mechanics of the employment market when I was looking for my first job.  If I could go back and talk to my 20-year-old self, these are the things I’d impart. 

·         Don’t study Art History unless you really want to be an art historian!  Suck it up and study Engineering, Econonimcs or Business or something.

·         Work for a company with good name recognition; it doesn’t matter what you do as long as the name is prestigious.  That will open a lot of doors.

·         Join a graduate program.  This will get you a lot of exposure and help you find where your interest lies. 

I think that these points sound cynical.  And it’s not as much fun as what I did.  But I’m pretty sure that if I’d followed this path I’d be in a different place career-wise than I am today.  I am surprised my dad didn’t tell me these things when I was looking for a job.  Perhaps he was thrown off by my Art History degree (he studied Econ in university). 

He also always said it didn’t matter so much what you studied in college; that I could always go back for a master’s.  That’s probably mostly true.  In a way I had the rich-kid blessing/curse.  My parents could afford to send me to college without a scholarship and I didn’t need to study something pre-professional to enter the business world and pay back loans.  So I studied what I love (art and culture) even though I learned early on that I didn’t have the appetite for the amount of schooling it would require to have a career I didn’t want in those fields (I determined early on that I wasn’t going to like being an Art Historian or Anthropologist/Archaeologist).  I was a bit lost when I left college, as I couldn’t see how my studies would translate into gainful employment.  I ended up at a boutique consultancy, which as a crash-course in the business world.  And, like my dad said, I eventually went back for a Master’s to round out my business acumen and boost my resume. 

But the b-school experience has done little to help me build a new career.  Reading between the lines of job postings, interviews, acceptances, and rejections I’ve come to the conclusion that those first few years of employment count for almost everything.  They shape the opportunities that you can have and what you can’t.  It’s all superficial.  While I could do most of the jobs I’ve applied for, I haven’t gotten them because I didn’t have the “right” industry experience, the “right” work experience, the “right” company names on my CV, etc.  Post-college, I haven’t done any of it “right.”

Now, some of it is the career capital problem.  But I do share the blame.  Another part of my problem is that I don’t have a clear direction.  I’m interested in so many things that I find it hard to choose.  And I’m a commitment-phobe—I don’t want to go whole-hog into one career because I fear that I’ll hate it or tire of it and be unable to transition to another field.  So, I walk the tightrope.  I dabble in this and that, gain a smattering of experience, but nothing really builds. 

And then there’s the whole networking thing.  I hate it.  I feel really awkward asking people for help in finding jobs.  I’m not good at selling myself.  My lack of self-confidence really shows through.  The self-confidence I don’t have because I know I haven’t done it all “right.”

Veggie Day 3

So, today is day number three of being a vegetarian.  So far, so good.  I haven’t really been craving any meat, and I haven’t been feeling massively hungry either.  I’m not sick of salad yet, though I’m sure that will come.  So far, my diet looks like:

Breakfast:  Fruit smoothie and decaf coffee(s)

Lunch:  Salad and tomatoes to snack on

Snack:  Miso soup or tea with milk

Dinner:  Cooked vegetables (broccoli, asparagus, mushrooms), stuffed peppers, salad, soup (tomato, vegetable, carrot & coriander, broccoli & cheddar, etc.)

Yesterday I had an adventure at the grocery store.  I don’t want to get sick of vegetables, so I went in search of vegetarian foods.  I bought vegetarian sausages and burger patties.  My local shops don’t carry tofu (grr!) but I was able to find some pre-marinated and sliced tofu that I can put in stir-fry.  I also bought a bunch of quorn.  I was introduced to quorn after I finished my Lighter Life diet—it’s pretty unappealing on its own but if you mix it with tomato sauce and spices its actually pretty tasty!  I haven’t opened any of my new foods yet, but I plan to give them a shot over the weekend.  Food experiments—my favourite!

Catching Up

So, things have been really busy lately.  We’ve had two four-day weekends in a row.  The first long weekend, I went to Dublin.  This past weekend, I was in New York.  So, no blogging for me.  That said, I’ve stored up some good topics so look for some writing to be coming in the next few days... probably after I get over my jetlag.

So, the new diet starts tomorrow.  The plan is to do mainly vegetarian diet with the occasional lean fish or chicken dish to add protein and keep me healthy.  One of my main concerns with going vegetarian is that I will end up eating a ton of bread and pasta.  I don’t want to go down that path, as with my PCOS I think eating high GI foods will mess up my insulin levels and I likely won’t lose any weight.  So, I’m planning to eat more hearty vegetables like mushrooms and to have more soups and broths to manage my hunger.  My other concern is that I’ll eat more cheese on this diet.  I want this diet to be both low-carb and low-fat, so I’m just not stocking it in my fridge.  With this in mind, I’m not going to calorie count this time around.  It gets really old really fast.  I don’t want to calorie count my whole life, so I need to learn to listen to my body and make good decisions without a food log in front of me.  I’ll post about the new diet once it gets underway--wish me luck!

Falling off the Wagon In Style (Well... in MY Style)

So, approximately 15 days after the meat diet (as I fondly call it) officially ended I broke down and had a carb feeding frenzy.  It was like a shark sensing blood in the water.  I ate like a bulimic on a binge, but I don’t purge.  It probably could have been a lot worse.  Mostly it involved a lot of cookie dough, and then some cookies that I grudgingly cooked to justify the cookie dough in the first place.  And. since I started the downward spiral, I thought I should at least make a proper go of it.  It didn’t hurt that my friend and I had reservations at a very nice restaurant the next day.  So, I gave myself license to just not care about it up through Easter.  Then I’ll have to care again.

The not caring part has actually been pretty hard.  I think I’m on a self-destructive streak, actually.   I’m getting heavier and it terrifies me.  But I can’t get my head straight.  I can’t keep to a diet and I’m less motivated than ever to hit the gym.  I’m worried about jeans getting tighter and about the way my clothes fit.  I’m noticing some changes in my body that have me feeling self-conscious and that makes me depressed.  To paraphrase Fat Bastard, I’m eating because I’m unhappy and I’m unhappy because I’m eating.  As much as I tell myself I’ll feel better if I can impose some sort of control over the situation, I just can’t do it.  Maybe deep down somewhere I don’t think I deserve to feel good about myself?  That I don’t deserve to look good?  I guess that would go along with my middle-of-the-road approach I described in my post on fear.  What a waste.

So, I’ve been doing this caring but not caring thing now for a few days.  Stuff is going in my mouth that I normally wouldn’t eat.  But since I’ve removed some of the stigma around the food I’ve actually been a bit more reasonable in the volumes I’ve consumed.  And I’ve actually gone to the gym or worked out every day that I’ve been eating more.  Its not nearly enough to cover the calories I’m taking in, but its something.  Somehow its easier to go to the gym now.  Strange.  

There have been two highlights of my freedom week so far.  The first is my lunch at Launceston Place, which is an amazing restaurant in the Kensington area.  I had super delicious short ribs and veal and my friend had consomme and beef.  Here are pictures of the short ribs and the beef.  We also ate lovely fresh baked bread, sweets, and booze.  It was lovely.  

Braised Short Ribs

Steak

The second highlight was my homemade bread and cheese.  Yes, I made my own cheese.  I’ve been obsessed with making cheese for a few weeks now and I’ve been looking into classes but haven’t found much.  Crazy, I know.  Who wouldn’t want to take cheese making classes?  Anyways, its super simple to make a soft cheese--mine tasted like a mild goat cheese or a more tangy cream cheese.  Here’s what you do:

1) Heat 1 litre of whole milk (optional add 100-200ml of cream) slowly to 80 degrees C, stirring constantly to prevent burning/film on top of the milk
2)  When milk reaches 80 degrees C, take it off the heat.  Pour in approx 350 ml of cultured buttermilk and 2 tsp of lemon juice.  
3)  Briefly stir and then let sit for 10 minutes undisturbed.
4)  Use a sieve to separate the curds and the whey.  Try to get most of the moisture out but letting the curds sit in the sieve over a pot for 30 minutes or so.
5)  Add 1 tsp of salt and any other desired spices, pack cheese into a jar, and refrigerate overnight.

To go with my cheese I also made bread using Mark Bittman’s no-knead bread recipe I got off the New York Times.  Here’s photos of my feast:

My pride and joy -- homemade bread and cheese

I do realise that eventually I have to sort myself out.  Right now the plan is that after Easter and some travel I have coming up I’m going to go vegetarian.  I’ll be posting on my new diet experiment in early May.

Fear

Fear is holding me back.  I hate it, but I can’t seem to move past it.  When it doesn’t put me into ostrich mode (i.e., head in the sand), or deer-in-headlights mode (i.e., paralysis), it seems that I spend my time trying to circumvent it, being miserable, and then daydreaming to escape it. 

I think I’m afraid of both success and failure.  I just want to toe the middle.  Look at my current work situation.  I’m working a contract job that’s mostly unrewarding and not at all geared to what I want to do long-term.  I fear being unemployed when my contact ends, so I apply to a jobs in a half-assed manner.  I’ve given up on the stretch jobs, the ones that are what I really want to do but that I have zero chance of getting.  I apply to the jobs that are in adjacent fields, hoping that I have enough transferrable skills.  But they’re not what I really want to do.  And they may never lead to what I really want to do.

And then I think about what I’d want to do if I was fearless.  I want to have my own shop.  I want to sell cheese and cured meats, wines, specialty foods.  I want a store that has tastings and cooking classes and is part of the community.  If my store becomes successful, I’d want to branch out to have a farm where I can make my own cheese, bake my own bread.  And I’d have a small hotel where people can come to learn about food production and cooking.

So, then I think I should try to get experience in the grocery industry.  I read up on the management positions that would give me the income I’m accustomed to.  I don’t have the required experience.  That leaves me with entry level—around £20,000 a year.  And then fear sets in.  I know I would learn a lot, and I would put myself on a track to having my own store someday (or at least being in a management position at a retailer).  It’s a big risk.  It’s a lot of lost income.  And, given my track record, would I ever follow through?  If I got that job and took the salary hit, would I ever make it worth it and start my own shop someday?  I think about inertia, I think about my fear of success, and I think I’m doomed.

BFFs

One of my (many) faults is that I can be harsh and unforgiving.   I am at my worst when it comes to my friends.  I have certain expectations about friendship.  I think I have many of these expectations because I moved around a lot growing up.  Having these expectations about who friends are and what friends do helped me to make friends and to cope with leaving friends whenever I moved away.  

My criteria for friendship are pretty stringent.  Above and beyond a general rapport I look for friends who are smart, funny, genuine, loyal, and reliable.  Having these strict criteria meant that I only invested in a handful of relationships, which made it easier to say goodbye to a lot of people whenever I moved and also motivated me to maintain relationships with a select few that had the greatest likelihood of standing the test of time and distance. 

So, for as long as I can remember I’ve had small group of close friends and then I’ve maintained a wider group of “acquaintances.”  I really work hard at being friends with my close friends--I try to see them (or at least talk or email with them) on a regular basis, I like to give them small gifts to show my appreciation for their friendship, I’m loyal, I tell them that they’re awesome (they are), I try to support and encourage them as best I know how, and I try not to let them down.  

And here is where the unforgiving thing comes in.  I don’t expect my friends to go about maintaining our relationship in the exact same why that I do, but I do expect it to be a two-sided relationship.  It’s like cost-benefit analysis--if I’m paying all the costs (time, effort, emotion) and I’m not getting anything back (mostly I define returns as facetime—I just want to see/talk to you!), then why the hell am I wasting my time?  I’m pretty good at cutting friends—you have to be when you move every 3-4 years.  And that’s what I do when I feel like my overtures of friendship are not reciprocated:  I cut.

Now, I realise that this is very harsh.  I can cut for a lot of reasons that people might not understand.  If someone is flaky and cancels on me a lot when we make plans, they’re contenders for being cut.  If I feel like I’m always the one to ask a friend to do something (and he/she never asks me to do something), then I might think of cutting them.  One of my greatest pet peeves is friends who ditch me for a new girl/boyfriend.  If they don’t want to make an effort to maintain a friendship when they have a significant other, they shouldn’t expect me to make an effort to be friends when you’re single again.  For me that’s a sign that they don’t value my friendship.  I’m not being draconian here—I understand that people want to spend time with their new loves, but I don’t think that it has to be at the expense of other relationships.  If someone can’t be bothered to make time for me, then they clearly don’t think I’m important.  If that they way they want it, fine.  Then they’re not important to me either.  It’s self-preservation.

Now, I know there are faults with this approach.  For example, people can be going through stuff and I fail to notice it because I’m too busy being angry and resentful that they’re not reciprocating.  I also can’t expect people to treat friendship the same way I do.  Obviously there are many things that define friendship and many ways to make, keep, and lose friends.  People shouldn’t be expected to know or agree with my arbitrary set of rules. 

I’m working on trying to be more understanding.  And I need to communicate my expectations and my feelings so the other person is aware when there might be a problem.   I think that’s going to be my new rule.  From now on, I’ll work on not closing the door completely.  Maybe you’ll move down to acquaintance status, but I need to leave the door open for you to become a friend again.  But if it happens again, all bets are off.  Like I said, I’m not that forgiving.

A Day in the Life

I can’t remember the last time I was in this good a mood.  I woke up completely rested before my alarm went off, I put on my music, and I’ve been irrepressibly cheerful ever since.  Maybe its because today is the third sunny, warm day in a row?  Maybe its because its Friday?  Maybe its because my hair cooperated and I get to wear my new top?  Maybe its because I just had delicious Nando’s for lunch?  Maybe its because this weekend looks to be warm and sunny as well, and there are few places more awesome than London when the weather is nice?  I don’t know and I don’t really care.  I’m in a great mood and I’m staying that way.

There are side effects to this mood.  I basically want to get up and dance around the office, I keep breaking out into song.  And I’m being silly.  Well, that’s not entirely accurate.  I guess its better to say that I’m having a hard time controlling my impulses and keeping my interior monologue to myself.  So, all my random thoughts are spewing out of my mouth.  If people didn’t think I was crazy before, they’re thinking it now.  Some examples:

This morning I wondered how they make coffee decaffeinated.  Of course, Wikipedia has all the answers.  In case you’re as curious as I was, typically solvents are applied to unroasted (green) coffee beans until most of the caffeine has been removed whilst leaving the other essential chemicals in coffee intact.  

Then I contemplated the life and writings of the Marquis de Sade.  Naturally.

Today at lunch I asked my flatmate whether a woman with a nubbin (extra nipple) lactates through it or if its purely cosmetic.  I have since learned that supernumerary nipples are diagnosed at a rate of 1 in 18 males and 1 in 50 females.  They can occur anywhere on your body, even on your feet!  And yes, if sufficiently developed and located on a milk line, nubbins can be milk-bearing. In some cases they can have fat and glandular tissue and look like mini-breasts!

I then tried to create new emoticons.  What should this mean:  :-x ? Pirate emoticon?  How about this:  >_< ?  “Doh!”?  Or is it a pucker face?  This is too fun.

It’s only 14:10.  This does not bode well for the rest of the day.  

Update:  Yeah, we just played "6 degrees of Kevin Bacon" for over an hour.