Why You Should Take “Time Off” After Undergrad to Work*

1. Confidence: It’s demoralizing to go from debt into more debt. On one h and, you may as well rack it all up at once, in order to avoid having to pay interest on your undergrad loans before you start to accrue graduate school loans. However, the more debt that accumulates as you sit there in the library trying to earn a piece of paper with a stamp on it, the more insurmountable that mountain of unpaid bills looks. At least if you work in the interim, you earn confidence in yourself that you can earn a salary and live independently, not off of someone else’s gift (if you can consider a loan a gift) to you.
   
2. Relaxation: Being able to leave your job at work and enjoy nights and weekends free from worry over your next exam or guilt over the paper you should be writing is liberating. Assuming you are a diligent, hard-working student, you will not experience this until you quit attending school full-time.
   
3. Autonomy: Yes, you are free from parental supervision in undergrad years, and in graduate school you are no longer bound by silly dormitory and campus rules. Still, having your own money and the time with which to spend it lends life a particularly grand sense of autonomy. You can spend your time and money literally however you like. You can shop for clothing, or travel, or put your money straight into the bank and take a walk in the park instead. You can join a gym, or buy cigarettes, or do both, if you so desire. Your life is really and truly 100% yours.
   

*Disclaimer: These reasons all assume that you are living on your own. If you are living with your parents, I cannot guarantee that they will still apply. See rules and regulations—as drafted by said parents—for details.

My personal history with MJ

I am sure that blogs all over the universe are paying tribute to this man, but seeing as he is probably my favorite musical artist of all time, I must honor and remember him, even in this small way.

Michael Jackson was truly the founding father of my love for taste in music “with a beat.” I always have been—and always will be—a lyrics junkie. I love to know “what a song is about,” primarily because I love a good story. Most songs lack much of a plot or storyline (“she broke my heart and I’ll never love again,” or “he’s a cheater, watch out for playas”), but I also appreciate a good political commentary and admire creative plays on words (e.g. Eminem). This is where MJ came into play. He was the first artist for which the lyrics—although I did listen to them—simply didn’t matter. The beat and effect of the music was so infectious, I had no desire to criticize it for “having no original message.”

My father was the one who introduce me to MJ. I’m not entirely sure why that was the artist who “stuck”—he also loved The Beatles, Aztec Two Step, and Spiro Gyra—but he recorded me a copy of my first MJ cassette tape, “Off the Wall,” when I was eight years old. I listened to it so much, I received “Dangerous” for Christmas that year.

”Dangerous” was the true start of my obsession with MJ. Two of the neighbor girls, E___ and K___, would come over nearly every day to play with my sister and me. I would force them to listen to “Black and White” over and over again while we set up board games and fought over what to play next. I owned an extensive Barbie collection, so we played with that a lot, and after I received that album, the Barbies began having a lot of music-related events built into their storylines (we played with Barbies like we were writing a soap opera)—there were clubbing excursions, ice skating competitions, gymnastics competitions (in which every event, not just the floor routine, was set to music), and anything else I could imagine that would incorporate “Jam,” or “Why You Wanna Trip On Me.”

Soon after receiving “Dangerous,” my parents presented me with “History: Parts I and II,” also as cassette tapes. This ruined my official MJ fan-ness, because from this point onward, I would never know which songs belonged to which album. (They were all mixed together on “History,” so I had no way of knowing that “The Way You Make Me Feel” belonged to “Bad,” while both “Beat It” and “Billie Jean” belonged to “Thriller.” Luckily, the songs “Thriller” and “Bad” themselves were pretty obvious.”) However, it expanded my repertoire and, consequently, love for the artist tenfold. Is there any song that makes you want to get on a motorcycle and feel that rumble beneath your body and wind whip through your hair more than “Bad?” Is there a more foot-stomping, head-tossing song than “Beat It?” Does anything make you want to skip freely, swinging your arms to the world, more than “The Way You Make Me Feel?”

If I ever have children, I will probably try to play MJ for them. And as I did with most of my father’s music, they will probably nod politely and then turn up their noses and walk to the other room. But I have to try. Because this man shaped my love of pop into what it is today, and his music deserves to live on in the hearts and ears of future generations.

Snapshot Book Review: A Confederacy of Dunces

A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole

My review

rating: 4 of 5 stars
In a funny reversal of review protocol, I am giving this book a higher "star rating" than I will give it in written description. This is because in terms of literary and written merit, A Confederacy of Dunces does deserve four stars. The language in this novel is absolutely unique: each character has a distinctive and identifiable voice that is extremely appropriate to his/her character, not the least of whom is the book's idiotic genius protagonist, Ignatius Reilly. Moreover, Toole infuses each turn of events with such well-thought-out irony, his careful crafting of the novel can only be applauded.

All of this being said, I didn't fully enjoy reading this novel. Why? Well, perhaps because I didn't find it laugh-out-loud funny. It was funny, and I kept wanting to laugh, but for some reason, Ignatius (the protagonist) just annoyed me so much that I never could manage to release a chuckle. The character who amused me most, truth be told, was Jones, the vagrant negro who gets a job as a janitor at the Night of Joy after sharing a jail cell with an old man who was mistakenly arrested in lieu of Ignatius. His dialect, his speech mannerisms, his sarcasm--I wished I could have been in the same room as this man!

Most of the characters in this novel annoyed me, and--SPOILER ALERT!!!--because the ending was happy for everyone (Ignatius gets away, his mother gets married, Mr. Levy saves his company, Mancuso gets his big break arresting the evil porn peddler), I felt even more annoyed by the time I got to the end. I wanted insolent, obnoxious Ignatius to get what he deserved. Throughout the whole book, I too had sneered at Mancuso, along with every other character. Why should he have the good fortune of arresting Ms. Lee? She was much smarter than him!

Nevertheless, for me to feel as I do about the various characters, I must admit that the book was written well. My largest literary criticisms were 1) Dr. Talc seemed to me to be an unnecessary character; I did not see how his addition and that subplot lent the book any added interest or meaning and 2) that in light of how uniquely every other character was portrayed, Claude appeared rather faceless and one-dimensional after his role as the "communiss-hating old man" in the jail cell was fulfilled. As Mrs. Reilly's suitor, he faded into the background as a stock character, which was unusual considering how dynamically and colorfully the rest of the cast of characters were portrayed.

Note: This was my second time reading this book. I read it specifically to see if I would find New Orleans a more enticing setting after having visited the place last April. Unfortunately, the setting of the book was not addressed in particular detail, so the answer to my query was no. I did, however, realize that upon my first reading, I had skipped over every single one of Ignatius's written passages in my eagerness to "hurry along the story." I am glad that I took the time to read them this time around, because they were usually amusing, if rather wordy and dense (which was why I skipped them in the first place). Considering these passages in the context of both the book and of scholarly writing, this would make an interesting book to teach in high school or college.

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$50 well spent?

This is the 2nd time I've gotten talked into layers and the second time I think I'm regretting them. (At least my eyes look green in this picture. There's a plus.)

What I'm most worried about is the length. How in the world am I going to pull this back? Or up? Or, essentially, out of my face???

Admittedly, however, the cut looks the best from the back. The question is going to be whether or not I can make it look like this myself, without the assistance of a hairdresser....

Snapshot Book Review: The Mysteries of Pittsburgh

The Mysteries of Pittsburgh: A Novel by Michael Chabon

My review

rating: 3 of 5 stars
I started out really not liking this book. It felt as though it was written pretentiously--like its narrator was trying to be Holden Caulfield (Catcher in the Rye), Nick Carraway (The Great Gatsby), and Gene (A Separate Peace) all at once, affectations and everything. Yes, I ate up the Pittsburgh references (Dirty O! Bloomfield! CMU! Shadyside!), but there weren't enough descriptions to make me feel as though I was actually there, apart from the elusive Cloud Factory.

However, as I read on, I became increasingly interested in the narrator's relationship with his friends and girlfriend--mostly because they were such interesting and nuanced characters. Without that curious supporting cast, I doubt this book could have held any water. Now, however, I am interested to see how it translated to a movie. I actually think that it might have made a better movie than it made a book, although much of Art's inner sexuality turmoil will probably be lost in the translation. However, I imagine that the "action scenes" will come alive better on screen than they do through Chabon's writing. I never felt any passion in the sex scenes, or drama in the scenes between Art and his father, even though I understood that I was supposed to feel these things. And the final chase scene was so complicated and direction-obsessed, it lost all climactic value.

The beauty of this novel was in the relationships between the characters. Art and Arthur, Art and Phlox, Art and Cleveland, Arthur and Cleveland--they're all fascinating and intricate relationships that Chabon develops with necessary care. And because he created such unique and complex characters from the start, he makes it easier upon himself to flesh out the complexities that they weave between one another.

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