Ellen wonders why PricewaterhouseCoopers is changing the name of its consulting firm to “Monday”. Also wondering how anything got named PricewaterhouseCoopers in the first place? Ah, mergers. It helps that one person was actually named “Waterhouse”.
It’s kinda funny. But nothing makes me feel better about graduation than listening to happy middle-aged people, mostly content with their lives, with kids and marriages and traditions. At lunch today, everyone was talking about trips to the Jersey Shore… how they’ve been going there for 30 years with all of their old friends and their families. They look at slides from the 70s. (His suit is too tight, and look at her hair!) They sit around over picnic lunches telling the same old stories. Everyone gets made fun of for something, who’s the clumsy one, who’s the neat freak, who’s the lazy one. It seemed to embody what people mean by “settling down.”
It was comforting for three reasons.
- Because the life they described seemed worlds away. And there’s a lot that I want to do before I’ve got anything close to that. It reminded me of what I *wasn’t*, despite my post-grad status.
- Because they were talking on a different time scale. Married for 20 years? I’ve only been alive for 20 years. So no wonder it’s confusing at first, right out of college. Everyone else has been doing this stuff for longer than I’ve even been alive.
- And because someday, it’ll be really nice to gather with people I’ve known for 30 years and spend a week at the beach.
I went to Boston this weekend to see Tara. One of the other interns was driving, and I was reading the map and directions. Everything was fine navigation-wise until we got to the city and missed every single one of our turns. Now I can understand why every person I’ve ever talked to about visiting Boston mentions that they got lost. There are’t any street signs. At least, not ones that we needed. We actually had to find one crucial bridge by counting the bridges we passed and comparing that to the bridges on the map. That’s just not right.
In other transportation news, the T is very nice. It rides almost as smooth as the Metro, but it’s as friendly and laid-back as the El. Unfortunately for Mark, though, there’s no standing/walking rules for the escalators.
I also got sick over the weekend, and I’m wondering if it has something to do with Boston itself.
Maxim Saves Journalism: “If you go into magazines, and I hope some of you will, just remember this: Don’t be snobby, don’t be selfish: Write for readers. If you don’t, your career will be very unhappy…or very short. “
I’ve been doing some reporting today on breast cancer activism…. talking to activists is so cool. I worry about the littlest things, when there’s so many more important things to devote mental space to.
“If it’s impermissible to belittle the likes, dislikes and habits of local ethnic groups or people from other lands (and it certainly is wrong), why must it be acceptable to belittle the tastes of fellow Americans who live in what is often and derisively termed “fly-over country”?” — post in a NYTimes forum on being a New Yorker.
I’ve been thinking about this lately. Well, more specifically I’ve been thinking about the National Geographic-ish approach to talking about life in a new place. Like: “And then the rural Pennsylvania natives tried to learn how to swing dance, tentatively placing one foot in front of the other, balanced precariously on their skinny white legs. Afterwards they dined on a local delicacy, cabbage and noodles.” Well, that’s an exaggeration. But you know. It’s sort of what Patrick talked about in his barber shop blog. How to fairly perceive and describe a place’s local atmosphere. Hmm.
Why do I make even simple things seem complicated? And more importantly, how can I stop?