In case you didn’t know…
P R O F I L E ; My name is Ashley. I’m 22 years old and a graduate student studying Marriage and Family Therapy.
L O C A T I O N ; Orlando, Florida. Home of The Mouse.
O C C U P A T I O N ; I work in Human Resources. That’s basically all I can tell you…the company I work for has a social media policy.
R E L I G I O N ; I believe in Jesus and in God as a whole. I believe that regardless of what you call God, we are all talking to the same Being (except for people who worship Satan, but that’s another story). I believe in prayer, meditation, and various works of scripture. I suppose a lot of my religious beliefs are that of Christianity, but I would call myself more spiritual than tied to any religion. I feel like I am developing a personal relationship with God, and it gives me peace and happiness.
P E R S O N A L I T Y ; I’m quirky. I laugh a lot. I like to make other people laugh. I’m sarcastic. I’m snarky. I smile a lot. You can tell everything I’m thinking from my face. I’m incredibly sensitive at times and wear my heart on my sleeve. I’m not really like most people my age, at least not the ones that I know. My mother has always told me that I am an “old soul”, which I think is very true.
P A R E N T S ; My parents are amazing people. My mom is a brilliant, driven, funny, generous, kind, successful woman. She fostered so many wonderful things in me, and I would not be the person I am without her. She’s basically Superwoman, and she’s my best friend. I love spending time with her. We’re like the Gilmore Girls. My dad is kindhearted, generous, passionate, sensitive, random, quirky, and about a million other things. He has a great sense of humor and comes up with these ways of saying things that no one else would ever say. I am a complete Daddy’s girl and I adore him. We both like the same types of movies and we connect a lot with music. My dad is probably the hippest dad I’ve ever seen when it comes to music and culture. He’s up on all the shows and music trends.
S I B L I N G S ; I have one sister, who is eighteen years older than me and actually my father’s daughter. We don’t have the same mom. She lives in Massachusetts and has four beautiful kids.
P E T S ; You’ve met the children already (see previous entries). But to recap: We have Scout, who is 6 and very orange. We have Kinsey, who is almost 8 (I feel an anxiety attack going on…my baby’s getting older). Finally there is Scrabble, who just turned 3 in March. March 15, to be exact. She’s huge. And fluffy. And always looking for food.
When robots talk back
When you find an automated voice questioning your decisions, you know that technology has gone just a little too far.
This morning I called Medco, which is the company that works with my insurance company to provide any prescription medication that I take on a regular basis. I needed to set myself up on an automatic payment plan, so that every month Medco will charge my bank card for my birth control pills. Otherwise, they ask me to pay for three months worth of the pill in advance: a total of $125. (Don’t get me started on how I think birth control should be free). For my sanity and bank account, I like to just pay the $42 a month and get charged an extra dollar than have to give up $125 at one time. So I called Medco to get it all straightened out.
I wasn’t sure which option would be the best to choose for my particular issues, so I chose “Refills”. When I said the “r” word, the automated system immediately passed me to the automated refills line. This is apparently a place where you don’t have to speak to a human being, you can just place your refill order. Not helpful in my situation, so I said, “Customer service”. Instead of putting me through to a real person, the machine said something I have never heard before. It asked me if I was sure, and explained that it could handle my refill request quickly through the automated system. It wasn’t until I said, “No” and “CUSTOMER SERVICE!!!” two or three more times that I realized something:
A robot just argued with me. Something that is not alive just questioned my decision-making abilities. I believe we have just reached an all-time low.
I believe in technology. I own an iPhone. I would rather go without food than cancel my DVR service. I have a relationship with my Mac. But this is just crazy. Now we have automated systems that can go beyond replacing live people: they can question us. They can argue. This one in particular seemed to think it knew better than I did (perhaps it was a mommy or daddy robot?). I am not even a fan of people asking me if I’m sure. I’m certainly not going to take any lip from a robot.
As we go into the future, everything around us seems to rely less on people and more on technology. I don’t have the statistics, but imagine for a moment how many jobs have been replaced by technology in the past ten years. It’s convenient. It’s saved companies billions of dollars and allowed them to provide insurance and benefits and coffee for less people. Yet in today’s times, when it is more difficult to find a job than it has been in quite a while, we have to wonder how well this technology serves us as a community. When a machine can refill your prescriptions and help you pay bills and even order you a pizza, where does that leave people? I know I am certainly not the first nor the last person to ask this question, but isn’t it something we need to consider more often than we do?
Every time we do something especially convenient for us, it is most likely a task that was once handled by a real person. We used to go through grocery lines with actual cashiers. Now, at many stores, we are able to check ourselves out of the store and handle the cash and credit transactions on our own. To order a pizza, we used to have to call or go to a pizza parlor. These days, plenty of large chains feature online ordering services. None of these things are inherently bad, but I feel like they separate us more and more from human interaction. Our society has reached the point where people text or instant message one another from the next room, where people are too busy playing with their phones to talk to the person sitting in front of them. I think many of us have stopped giving that undivided attention to others because we’re obsessed with technology. We can’t stand to be disconnected from the technology we have, but we seem to have settled for a disconnect from actual people.
We will never be able to stop technological progress, but we can start to connect ourselves to what really matters in life. Rather than checking that last e-mail, focus on the eyes of the person in front of you, or next to you. Talk without typing. Connect. And when you find yourself annoyed by waiting in line to do a transaction with a real person, try to find the joy in the fact that at least there is one thing that isn’t completely controlled by robots. I’m going to step away from the Mac for today and do the same.
Going up yonder
I haven’t updated in quite a while (not that many people read this anyway), but I have a good excuse. Actually, a few of them. For today, though, I’ll focus on the first one.
My grandfather died on February 3. He was 92 years old, and had been ill since October of last year. When he was first diagnosed with lymphoma (among other things), I found myself completely devastated. To be honest, the intensity of my feelings shocked me. I have always loved my grandfather, but I don’t know if I ever explored what he meant to me and what he had contributed to my life until I knew he was ill. Perhaps that is an area in which I have failed somewhat, but when I think about it, I don’t know if we always reflect on what a person means to our life until there is a specific reason to do so. And when we do choose to reflect, we never reflect on each and every person we know and wonder, “What impact has this person had on my life?”
I realized that the impact my grandfather had was deeper than I could have imagined. My grandfather was a quirky, humorous, and incredible person. He truly lived life. During his ninety-two years, he married, had four children (the first of which was my father), served in the Army Corps of Engineers, received the Soldier’s Medal for bravery, had a successful ironworks business, and had many friends and admirers. My grandfather was not the gentlest man. He could be blunt, and in fact, when people reminisced at the funeral they often mentioned funny and blunt things he had told them. One that stood out to me in particular was a man who said that when he asked both of his sons (who have long hair) what they remembered about my grandfather, they both said simultaneously: “Here’s five dollars: Go get a haircut!”
He loved the stock market and was a successful investor. I occasionally check the stocks on my phone these days, just to see how the market is doing and what he would think of it. The day after he died (also the day I found out about his death), the stock market tanked it. I had to smile at that. My grandfather also loved the Yankees, and would watch the games on the YES channel on full blast (he was hard of hearing, naturally). I rooted especially hard for the Yankees to win this November, as I knew it would be the last World Series my grandfather would live to see. I realized the other day that Pop lived through each and every World Series the Yankees were ever in. Pretty incredible. I think that gives him a gold star of some kind among Yankees fans.
The most difficult thing for me to realize was that my grandfather was an essential part to what I love about my father’s family. If someone asked me to describe what that side of my family was like, I would have to tell a story about my grandfather that showcased his sense of humor. I would talk about my grandfather inviting random people in the supermarket to our family reunions. I would imitate his voice (a must if you are telling a Pop story). I would also tell stories about my aunts, my uncle, and my dad, who, for the most part, all have that same sense of humor. Pop was the essence of our family, and when he died, I wondered if we would be the same.
The time I spent in Connecticut for his wake and funeral proved that we would. I am not sure how other families handle death. I suppose it depends on the circumstances and the people. But for this funeral, for this family, it was as humorous as it was sad. We laughed. We told stories. We had Thursday night spaghetti night, which has been a family tradition since time immemorial. My Aunt Linda wore Pop’s green apron, which he wore at every meal to avoid spilling food on his clothes, in his honor. We watched a movie of family photographs set to music that had been made for my grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary. Actually, we watched it twice. I feel like we came together as a family and brought that same spirit to everything we did, even through our tears.
Since the funeral, I’ve kept the prayer card from my grandfather’s service tucked into the windshield of my Jeep. First, because he was big on looking in your mirrors and driving safely (who couldn’t use that reminder?), but also because I wanted to remember. On the front of the prayer card is a photo of my grandfather. He is at work at the ironworks business, working on some kind of machine I can’t even name. Orange sparks are flying toward his feet. The sleeves of his blue work shirt are rolled up, his favorite boots are on, and he’s wearing the green army-type hat I’ve come to associate him with. I’m not even sure he’s aware that the photo is being taken. He’s intent on his task. It is a photo of him doing what he loves. On the back is “The Prophet”, written by Khalil Gibran. It reads:
We would ask now of Death.
And he said:
You would know the secret of death, but how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?
If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and melt into the sun?
And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
Many will play, few will win
The title comes from a phrase you often hear in tv commercials when they discuss some kind of a contest. Everything sounds great: $1000 dollars, a trip to Hollywood, the chance to meet the celebrities at a movie premiere. Then at the end of the commercial, in the fine print, they tell you what’s up: many will play, few will win.
I was thinking today that the job market right now is very much like that concept. For every available job, many apply. Many cross their fingers, open up a new word document, and begin a cover letter: “To Whom It May Concern: I would like to express my interest in your open ________ position.” But few people get the job. Generally, it’s only one person for the five hundred people who apply. It’s a frustrating time, especially because people who have been working their entire lives and are great employees have been laid off, and people who have just begun to work have a lot less opportunity. We’re all getting a lot of rejection letters and hoping that when the interviewer says, “We’ll call you”, they really mean it.
I had an interview today, my first serious one. Don’t misunderstand: I’ve had jobs before. Formal, paying jobs. But it was mostly working in the summer…something I knew would end in August. Or unpaid internships. Or working for my university and making money on 13 hours every two weeks when really I was putting in more like 30 hours every week. This job interview was with a really great company. It wasn’t on the phone. It wasn’t with someone my age, or another college student. It also wasn’t like my last supposedly formal interview, where I went in, filled out paperwork, and sat down, and the guy told me the position had been filled.
“THEN WHY THE %^%$ DID YOU BRING ME IN HERE?!?!?!?!?!?”
*Ahem*
Anyway, this was my first interview with someone who was a professional and not a clown. I was nervous. Pterodactyls were flying around in my stomach. I changed my outfit several times, looking in the mirror and thinking to myself, “Hi, I’m Ashley, your new human resources coordinator.” I changed my clothes until I looked like a professional young woman and not like a frumpy librarian (sorry, frumpy librarians).
The interview went exceptionally well. She asked me a lot of questions and I think she was a bit surprised that I was interested in the job and committed to getting it since it’s a bit of a commute from where I live. Like 40 minutes…on a good day. But I really do want the job, and I feel like I’d be good at it. I made that clear. So clear, in fact, that she told me at the end of the interview to call her tomorrow and let her know if she should forward my name to the person who would be my boss at the Daytona office. After some thinking, I know I’m going to call her and tell her to do that. I want this position, and I think it’s my best opportunity right now.
We’ll see where it goes. Hopefully I’ll be a winner in the employment game very soon.
Meet the Fam
Before we really get into the comings and goings of my little family, I think I should introduce everyone in the house to you so that you have a visual when I mention them. Without further adieu (only had to spell that one twice!), here’s the fam:
Me
You’ll get to know me eventually. I’ll let you make your own judgments.
Rob and Scrabble
This is Rob, my adorable boyfriend, and our cat, Scrabble. We’ll get to her in a second. (Hopefully he doesn’t kill me for this photo. He rarely likes any pictures I take of him). Rob and I have been together for three and a half years and living together for about a year and a half. He is a baseball fanatic and an autograph aficionado. One of his hobbies is sending out baseball cards through the mail to be autographed by both major and minor league players. As we are both originally from South Florida (representin’ the 305 and the 954), Rob’s team is the Marlins. The other important thing to know about Rob (which would make him blush, I am sure) is that he’s absolutely brilliant. I don’t say that as his girlfriend, but as someone who knows him well. People I know will talk to Rob and come up to me and tell me how smart he is. Yeah, I know. Why do ya think I picked him? 
Anyway, I could go on and dedicate an entire blog to all the nuances of Rob and how amazing he is. But I’m going to move on to our furry children. Starting with…
Kinsey
This is Kinsey. Also known as “Zoey”, “The Kinza-Kinz”, and “DAMMIT, KINSEY!” Kinsey is seven years old and is a Rhodesian Ridgeback mix. There is some Pitbull in there (Shh, don’t tell my landlord), so sometimes when we’re out at a dog park people judge her by the way she looks instead of the content of her character (sorry, channeling Dr. King there for a moment). She’s actually the sweetest dog ever. My mom adopted her when I was in high school and during my college career I took her to live with me in my first apartment. Kinsey always seems to get into trouble, whether it’s eating something she shouldn’t, putting her 61-pound self on someone’s lap, or making a huge mess in our apartment. Once, she even picked out her own stitches after a surgery and almost got herself killed. Luckily, she’s still alive and kickin’ and has more energy than some puppies I know.
Next, we have…
She's very orange.
Also known as “Cout [K-Owt]” (my mom’s bird came up with this name), and “The Biggles” (don’t ask, this is Rob’s special nickname for her). Scout was also adopted from the same shelter as Kinsey, just a couple years later. My mom told me I could have a kitten, so we went down to the shelter to pick one out. The moment I saw Scout, I knew she was The One. Sounds crazy, I know, but it really was a kind of love at first sight. Scout is five years old. Her favorite place is Rob’s lap and/or his computer chair. Also drawers, as you can see in the photo. She’s obsessed with the sink in our guest bathroom and insists on having it dripping when she’s around. If we don’t put it on, she will cry incessantly until we give in. Also, she likes to punctuate our conversation with little “Meh” sounds. She’s very chatty, but we rarely get her to do it on command. At one point I was trying to teach her a “We are the Knights who say ‘Meh’” routine. I was going to take it on the road. Maybe get John Cleese or Eric Idle. But I’m still here, blogging to you.
Finally…
The Fluff
This is Scrabble. Also known as “Poof”, “The Fluff”, “Fluffa”, and anything other than her real name because Rob does not refer to people or animals by their given names very often. Not even me. I think he’s called me “Ashley” about three times in our entire relationship. Anyway, this is the baby of our family. You know how some couples before they get married (or just after) get a puppy, and it’s like their first baby? Like a practice run? That’s basically The Fluff. I found her (read: Kinsey tried to eat her) when she was about five weeks old outside of my apartment complex in Tallahassee (I went to FSU. Go Noles!). She was all by herself, hissing away at anyone who came close. I watched from the third-floor balcony of my apartment to see if an adult cat would come by and fetch her. That didn’t happen, but a maintenance guy in a golf cart came by and was about to take her to Animal Control. I had visions of them putting this tiny thing into a gas chamber or euthanizing her (I’m a tad dramatic), so I said, “No! I’ll take her!” They put her in a cardboard box and I brought her to a vet. They told me she was feral, but I think she was full of piss and vinegar, as they say. Once I picked her up, she could hiss but there wasn’t too much she could do to hurt me.
Baby Scrabble
I kept her for a few days before realizing the following:
a) She needed to be bottle-fed
b) She couldn’t use a litter box
c) I was in the middle of college finals and I had no idea how to deal with any of this.
I found a foster mom for her who ran her own cat rescue. She was Scrabble’s caretaker for about a month while she learned to do all the things cats are supposed to do on their own. Then I adopted her from the cat rescue and took my little monkey home. And she’s been the spoiled child of our family ever since.
So, that’s us! Now you’ve met everyone. Welcome to our world.
The In-Between
Welcome to Life in the In-Between, my new blog. Not sure who I’m welcoming yet, but I hope that someone other than me, someday, will read this and that it will make them laugh. With me, not at me. At the very least, I’m attempting to move from the very personal world of blogging on livejournal to making more public, humorous, and thought-provoking posts on here.
Who am I and what is the In-Between, you may ask? Awesome question.
My name is Ashley and I am a 22-year-old Marriage and Family Therapy Master’s student. I live in Central Florida with my boyfriend of 3.5 years, Rob, and our three furry children: Kinsey, Scout, and Scrabble. I work part-time as a personal assistant running my own local business. Actually, it’s a corporation. Kind of cool, right? Never mind the fact that I know zero about the actual paperwork of running a business, but so far it’s working out okay. I’m trying to find something more full-time in a Human Resources department somewhere, but that’s all part of the journey.
Now to explain the name and purpose of this blog. I’m a fan of quite a few blogs. As a future therapist, other people’s lives (and marriages, and kids, and recipes) interest me. I’m not trying to be nosy or anything (although having a blog entitles the readers to be nosy, in a sense), but I’m always interested in how other people live their lives. Through this exploration of blogs, I’ve realized that I haven’t come across a ton of people who are in the same place that I am. I’m sure they exist. I’m sure they’re blogging. I just haven’t seen them yet.
I’ve come to the realization that there’s a lot of in-between in my life. I’m in between being a student and a working adult. Rob and I are in between dating and marriage. I’m still somewhat dependent on others, yet becoming more independent all the time. I even live in the middle of Florida, for goodness sake. This part of life seems to be its own phase, and while I move on to the next part of my journey, I want to chronicle this part. There’s a lot of “figuring out” going on at this point in my life, and what better way to work through it than this?
Me and Rob
