Today's the two-week mark since I've quit.

With the exception of really good friends and my husband, who know better, people have been asking me what I plan to do next. Are you going back to computers? Wall Street? Are you really planning to move? Where? Once we open the topic, questions don't end.

Of all the things I got back in my life in the last two weeks, two matter the most: time with people I love and time to read. I've spent several multi-hour conversations with friends in other cities and have had the privilege of spending face-to-face time with friends whom I hadn't seen since last May. I've also been reading incessantly. I read four books since I've quit and am in the process of reading three more. Last week, I devoured {the} Hours in a day and remembered why I need reading in my life.

Something I didn't foresee was how quickly the days would pass even when I don't have a job to swallow three quarters of my day. It seems I have something to do every single day. Not only that but I keep an overgrowing list of things to-do that I add to more often than I erase from. At this rate, I may not be free until the end of the summer.

My email account, even though I spent several hours cleaning it last week, still has 55 unanswered emails. My computer is full of pictures I have been meaning to post. Book excerpts I mean to write. Phone calls I mean to make.

An novel idea I've had for three years has come back to haunt me. I promised a friend that I'd help code his site. I want to learn Python. I'm thinking of installing Linux on my laptop so I can play with it. I want to take more pictures, especially of New York, which I plan to leave real soon. I want to visit all the City's museums; especially its quirky ones. I want to go to the opera, to see plays. I want to go to see the movies that only New York's theaters show.

Maybe I'm filling up my time because I don't know the answer to "What's Next?" or maybe I'm not ready to think about it because I have so many other things I want to do. I don't know if it's the chicken or the egg.

I do know that the question is at the back of my mind. I do know that I don't want to settle. I know that I was passionate about the cause of TFA, regardless of how it all turned out. I know that I want to feel that passion for the next move I make. That I want to live my life passionately. That I want the kind of job I'd be proud and thrilled to have. I know that it may not be possible. But maybe it is. I'm certainly going to try.

I also know that I'm not ready to answer the question just yet.

I've been meaning to write for quite some time.

Putting it off is so much easier than doing it. Partly because putting it off means I don't have to start taking responsibility for my life, the one I will be creating from scratch, just yet. Partly because I'm still enjoying the honeymoon period. Partly because I'm scared to face the guilt that I'm sure will come but has refused to appear so far. Partly because I'm still getting used to feeling this way and I am worried it might not last if I start talking about it. Partly because I've decided to live my life again.

The fact is, I enjoy my site. I've always enjoyed writing here and having a place where I can publicly dump my thoughts. I know that writing things here puts them in the world forever and, as opposed to old diaries, I won't necessarily be able to tear these pages.

But I like the truth in that. I like that I can't go back and act like something never happened. I like that I can't deny I felt a certain way at a certain time. That something wasn't a choice when it was.

I don't believe in regret. Never have. I've only had one event in my life that I consistently regretted for fifteen years and I just let go of it a week ago. (It felt so good!) This is not to say that I haven't been sad or frustrated by the choices I made. It's just that I always thought about my choices at length and never made them haphazardly. Thus, I was always secure in the knowledge that my steps were the best ones to take for my state of mind at that time. Regretting something after the fact is useless especially since there's almost no way to change it. Having these pages stored in a digital format where anyone can dig them up at anytime forces me to call myself on my tendencies to slip into the world of denial. It stops me from saying "Oh, I never wanted to do that any way." It gives others the proof to say, "Bullshit."

I quit my job. Exactly a week ago.

I quit the job that I believed in with all my heart. The job I didn't want to admit hating. The job that wasn't right for me from the very beginning. The job that I wasn't really even trying to do well. I still believe in the message. I am still amazed by the people who do it every day, despite its difficulties. I respect their choices and their ability.

Most amazingly, I didn't quit it for something better. I didn't quit it for more money. I didn't quit it for more flexible time. I didn't quit it because it was boring. I didn't quit it because I plan to get pregnant.

I simply quit for me.

So, it's over.

Okay, just so you can see the manic depressiveness of my job, I had a great day today. Not with the class mind you, but with one of my students after school. It's a long story and it's already midnight so I am going to go to bed but the choice to quit, for me, is nor here yet. It comes and goes. One moment, I am completely prepared to quit and the next I want to be there for the kids. I love the kids. More coming really soon, I promise.

To those of you who've been commenting, I just want you to know that I am reading them and they mean the world to me and they are affecting my day to day life and my moment to moment thoughts. I will respond to the comments and I am so glad you are taking the time to give me your thoughts, opinions, and empathy. Thank you. :)

I must admit I am the type of person who thinks a million times before she makes a decision. I'll go to a store, try the clothing on literally four times and then walk out. Think about it for a week, go back and try it on and then think about it for another week and then I won't buy it. There are lots of reasons for that nonsense but one of them is that I like to be sure. Whatever that means.

That is not to say I haven't made any instant decisions in my life. Actually most of the really big ones seem to have been made in a moment. But I tend to chew on it for way too long before I let it go.

I could look at that as insane and insecure or I could look at it as persistent and analytical and committed. Cause when it comes to this job, the only reason I haven't walked away is because I am committed. So the not-making-decisions-lightly can also mean I don't walk away.

What is comes down to, however, is that I've been eating my brain out for over a month now trying to find out what the right thing to do is. Obviosuly, there is no right thing. But there's something that I can live with. And it's not this. This state of being is a nightmare. It's driving me insane and I need it to go away.

I guess the key is figuring out how.

Wow, talk about a bad day! I am amazed at the optimism that seems to surround me all weekend when I plan my lessons and just assume they will work. And then I get up and go to school and the kids show up and then reality hits me. I am amazed at the kindness I want to give my students but yet the meanness I spew out in the middle of frustration and resentment. I am mostly amazed at how much I really suck at this. Just didn't think it was possible to be this bad.

And then there's this CNN article which I could say so much about but I won't because my bed time has come and gone.

My friend, Ed, sent me this link about someone else's teaching experience and I must tell you that while my situation is quite a bit better and I have what I consider to be a much more supportive principal and other really helpful people in my school, I have had days where my students were really acting up in ways I never thought possible. And, man, am I in over my head!

It's been a long time. When I decided to do this job, I knew that I would no longer realistically be able to write this site every single day like I used to be able to. While I had absolutely no idea of the insanity that my life would become, I did know that time would become a more precious commodity than it had been in the last two years when I was working part time.

The sad thing is, now I need to journal more than ever. This site used to be a way I could think about my thoughts. It was a way I got to reflect regularly. I kept diaries for over ten years as a child but for some reason, I haven't been able to get into it the way I really want to. If there's one thing I know about this teaching experience, it's that I'm going to want to remember my thoughts and feelings as I experience this. While I am confident that some things are best forgotten, I don't want to rely on my shaken memory of these two years. I'm not going to want to forget this.

On a more practical note, I find that reflecting gives me a way to improve and perfect my thoughts on a subject. While it might lead me down the path of wallowing on what I could have done and what I should have done, that's something I'm simply going to learn to get over because without quality reflection time, my life just becomes about making through each day, which is not an efficient way to make an impact.

So I am not really sure how to make this work. As of next week, I have class on Wednesdays, Thursdays until after 9:30pm. I also will most likely be teaching after school on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays and Saturdays. All this tightens my already crammed schedule. However, I need to make time for this. So any ideas on how I can make that happen?

The good news is that I've found a way to make peace with doing this job and not hating my life and myself. The bad news is that I don't feel like I'm necessarily a better teacher. I just show up to work everyday and don't want to kill myself at the end of the day. (Though, one of my students wrote the nicest thing on his math journal today, "Dear Ms.--- When I was in 4th grade and down. Math was really boring. Now you make it fun to learn." Isn't that nice?)

Most importantly, I still need to find a way to get them to shut the fuck up. Any advice? :)

Another day with little work done. My students took the PAM test today. A diagnostic test on math. The test is for me to see how much my fifth graders know. here are some glimpses I took while my students wrote: 1/2 + 1/3 = 2/5 (fractions) thankfully, we haven't covered fractions yet and when we do, I will cry if I still see this. One of my students upon reading about a question that talked about a parking meter, decided to draw a car and a parking meter. He spent 7 minutes of the 45-minute test drawing. We had ten teachers absent today. First snow day in New York City. I wonder if that means this will be a cold winter. I still haven't figured out what to do with my students talking in line. They are too close to each other. It's too enticing to talk, to push each other around; there are too few incentives to behave. Still overwhelmed and wondering what I was thinking when I decided to do this for a living.

Double-preps rock! Today was a better day. Not because I was able to teach better. Not because I didn't have kids throwing stuff in my room. But only because I didn't want to feel angry. I wanted to be happy today. And I didn't let anything change that decision. I guess my teacher's comments about controling what you can control stuck with me. I can control my mood. It is mine afterall, right?

People have been telling me that it would get easier after November. I must say that hasn't proven true for me. I've noticed a few patterns, though. If I give lined paper with a heading and a place for name, my students are more likely to write than if they were to write in their notebooks. Thinking isn't a talent you're born with; it's learned. Kids notice a lot more than adults give them credit for. There's always too much paper to grade and never enough time to grade it. My classroom will never look the way I want it to. One good day always precedes an awful day. Just when I lose hope, something inspiring happens and just when I get cocky, something humbling occurs. I can never think of a good assembly idea or a good bulletin board idea. I don't like either. I do like class trips, tho. Three weeks to Christmas break. If only I could stop the conversations in my head, I might be able to survive this. All my students individually chose blue as their favorite color, with the exception of one, who likes brown. Almost all would ban littering if they ruled the world. Girls feel sad if they have a fight with their best friend, while the boys feel mad.

Memory is selective.

There's a reason we forget things. Human resilience has been tested millions of times in history. Tons of women have told me that if we didn't forget, no one would have more than one child. Well, I haven't had any babies yet and can't tell you what labor pain feels like or how quickly I might forget it. But I do know that I've been known to distort the past as things change or as time passes.

The last few weeks have been so difficult that I decided, this time, I want to keep a record so that I can't fool myself when I choose to look back upon these memories. Think of this as a time capsule. Something for me to lock up and put away, only to be opened when I begin to forget. Something for my friends to show me when I start saying things like, "Oh, it wasn't that bad."

The fact is, it is that bad. It's hard. It's frustrating. At times, it's heart-wrenching. It's infuriating. Sometimes it's funny. But it's constantly overwhelming.

When I decided to quit my six-year job and change career paths, I knew that my life wouldn't be the same. I knew that teaching would eat more of my free time than investment banking ever did. I also knew that I'd feel it was worth it. So I assume the big question now would be: Is it?

Is it worth it?

Honestly? I can't tell you yet. All I can say so far is that I underestimated how difficult this is. Getting up at the crack of dawn, grading on the train to school, climbing 98 steps eleven times a day, four to six of which includes leading a class of 28. Spending every moment on my feet. Having to think about what I'm saying all the time. Having my incompetence stare me so squarely in the face.

My life has changed alright: I get up when it's dark, go to school, teach, stay after school to grade, come home when it's dark, prepare for the next day's lessons, call parents, eat dinner and crash in bed. Every single day. I dream about my students. I dream about photocopying onto overhead paper. I dream about lizards eating me. I spend my weekends planning for the week. Preparing charts for my room. Writing papers for my graduate classes. Buying prizes for my students. Photocopying. And sleeping.

My only moments of peace come on Sunday mornings where my amazing husband and I go to the local bagel shop at 8:30 and read the New York Times for two hours. Two hours of heaven. Two hours of not thinking about all the things that go wrong in my room. Two hours of not worrying about how the next day's lessons will go. Two hours of not feeling so incredibly incompetent.

I do love my students. Even the most mischievous ones. I can't help but care about them. I want to laugh at their ingenuity even when it disrupts my class. But my tolerance and patience has dwindled almost to nothing. It's gotten so bad that when I see people chewing gum anywhere, I have to work extra hard to suppress the urge to yell, "spit it out!" I fix everyone's grammar constantly. I can't stand it when people are being disrespectful at a meeting by having their own side conversation. I have heard every excuse and more as to why homework is not complete. I have listened to parents hollering at their children in front of my eyes. Much to my despair, I have made students cry.

But I have also made them smile. The magic of a student understanding something I've taught is immeasurable. Just like the drain when a student refuses to stop calling out loud in class or refuses to stop being disruptive.

So many things happen each day. I always come home with the urge to write, knowing I'm going to want to remember these days.

But I don't write.

Days pass, I forget. My memory knows I won't survive it if I keep remembering, so it helps me out. Maybe it's better that way.

Maybe some things are best forgotten.

Seven weeks and at least nineteen hours of diversity conversations later, I still don't know what wording to use.

I was born and raised in Istanbul, Turkey, a place that lacks the racial diversity of the United States. So I apologize ahead of time if this issue is plan as day for others but it's gotten to be extremely complicated for me.

I know that this is a sensitive issue for many, which is exactly why I need help. I apologize ahead of time if anything I write is insensitive or plain offensive. I can assure you it's not meant to be that way. If anything it stems from lack of experience or knowledge. Not that it's an excuse, but it is the truth.

Ok, with that disclaimer I'll explain my dilemma. I am about to start teaching in a school where I am racially in the minority, and people seem to claim that the reference issue will come up quite often. As in, how do I refer to each racial group?

If I say African American, I'm assuming the person's family originated in Africa. What if they are not from there? The same goes for European American. Let's not forget Latin American or Asian American. What if the student's not even American, like me?

I've been told black is offensive but white is not. Caucasian sounds way too odd to me. Latino also assumes Latin American roots. I'm not sure if Hispanic is offensive or not. Don't even get me started on the word colored. White is the sum of all colors and black is that lack of any, so I can't even figure out how that terminology began.

I genuinely don't know what to do and would be open to any and all advice on this issue. I am extremely concerned that in my lack of knowledge I'm going to offend someone and that's the last thing I want to do. I am obviously not going to refer to my students or their parents by their skin color, so that's not the context in which I fear the issue will come up. I am thinking of a case where we're reading a book or talking about a third party and his or her race becomes a part of conversation. I don't want to avoid the issue because I don't know what the right words to use, but I also don't want to offend anyone.

So I am open to suggestions. What wording is the best? Which one would be least likely to offend anyone? What's my safest bet?

My friend Jenn has just resigned from Teach For America.

Jenn and I spent countless hours of the last forty days together. I probably, scratch that, I certainly spent more time with her than I did with Jake, my husband. We planned and replanned lesson plans. She gave me amazing ideas and copies of her materials. She helped me write up numerous directions, poems, and lists on chart paper (my handwriting still needs considerable work). She's the reason we started our Thursday night dessert runs (even though I'm concerned about my next weight watcher's weigh in, it was totally worth it). She spent hours talking to me when I was crying so much that my words were more like babbling mumbles. She made me laugh and helped preserved my sanity.

This might not seem like much to you, but try putting it in context of all this:

Seventeen summer school students who had one teacher on the first week of summer school, only to find out that they had three more the next week.

Fist fighting between two girls at 11:20am on our first day at school.

Changing the seating plans at least eleven times in the course of four weeks.

A girl on the first row who incessantly raised her hand, knew the answers but made loud disappointment noises each time she wasn't called on.

A boy who raised his hand before we even asked a question because he wanted to participate so badly, but rarely answered correctly.

A really intelligent boy who had no patience for our simple assignments, would lose patience quickly and start walking around the classroom or belittle the other students.

A small boy who hit every girl taller than he any second we looked away and would deny any wrongdoing vehemently.

A quiet, sweet girl who couldn't read at all.

A boy who continually walked in late and proceeded to sit at his desk and do nothing. As time progressed, he's tap or bang on his desk. He also made fun of the other students.

A boy who never listened in class but responded thankfully and with interest during one-on-ones.

A quiet boy who didn't get much attention as he deserved.

A boy who could never physically sit in his chair.

Two girls who chatted incessantly no matter how far apart we seated them.

A boy who got moved around no less than eight times because he'd behave no matter where we seated him and thus got the default leftover seat.

A boy who came to school tired everyday and couldn't hold his head up.

A boy who cared, listened and shared.

A girl who slept or felt sick every day.

I suck at waiting.

I suck at unclear.

I suck at undecided.

As of Saturday, my life was semi-decided, my part of the world was almost completely under control whereas Jake's was still topsy turvy. I was semi-freaked out but also happy that my resolutions had worked out.

Saturday morning, Jake's life made a big leap into the world of fantastic. Suddenly, he had options, each better than the previous. It was time for us to sit down and have a talk. A long talk. One of those you-know-you-have-to-but-wish-you-didn't talks. One where we knew there was no safe path to walk, no one right answer. No one perfect solution.

We talked about the near future, the far future, the unknowns, the what-if, the but-what-about-mes, the beginning of a world of compromises. A few hours into it, I became confident this path wouldn't lead us to answers. I knew the talk was going nowhere and I was getting more excitable by the minute. I told him we had to stop talking and I had to sleep.

I like to sleep when I feel the depression come on. It's preferable to the uncontrollable crying. Wouldn't you agree?

A few hours of sleep gave me all the answers. The ones I knew but was unwilling to admit. It made me realize that I needed to choose us over me and our combined goals over my personal ones. It sounds easy, but let me be the first to tell you: it's not.

Once the decision was made, Jake's life switched to steady and all-good and mine got completely destroyed. I had to go back to square one and travel the path once more. I had to beg, pray and wait.

I'm not good at waiting. Since Saturday morning, I've been alternating between vegging out in front of the TV and sleeping. I've avoided pretty much everyone, as well as my site. I had no motivation to do anything until I knew.

Well, now I know.

And as Heather would say, "It's all good, baby".

Previously? Loss of Identity.

Anticipation.

Worrying.

Stress.

Anxiety.

Excitement.

I've spent the last week playing a game of Wheel of Fortune where the options are one of the above. I give it a push: stress. A harder push: worrying. Am I going to get excitement? Nope. It's the equivalent of the tiny sliver of triangle with the $10,000 on it. For now, I'm stuck with the others.

Tomorrow? Tomorrow's a day to pray. Don't believe in God? I don't care, pray for me anyway. Have you ever wanted anything so much you can taste it?

I have. I do.

I tend to believe that things happen for a reason. If you truly, really work hard to get something and you can't get it, maybe it wasn't meant to happen. That might sound like I believe in destiny, but it's not exactly that. I guess it's just that knowing it might be something more than my not getting it makes me feel better. Self-deception, baby, I'm all about that!

Is it better to have tried and failed than to not have tried at all? Do you really want to put yourself out there over and over again? Is it about aiming or is it about enjoying the achievements?

These are the thoughts that are dancing in my mind. I don't have the answers. I'm not even fully thinking about the questions. I'm not thinking about much right now. Can you tell?

Cross your fingers. Toes.

I want this!

Previously? Don't Pass Go.

In November of 1999, I was asked to go on a six-month business trip to Japan. At the time, my situation at work was so bad that I knew I needed to get away. I agreed to go to the other side of the world and told myself that no matter what, I would find a way to resolve the issues before I returned to New York City.

I went to the bookstore by my house and bought a collection of soft covers designed to tell me my purpose in life. What color was my parachute? Was I destined to be an actor? A mathematician? Social worker? What was my dream job? I wanted answers and these books promised to deliver.

And I can't, in good conscience, say that they didn't. For me to claim the books were no good, I would have had to use them. I cracked the cover of a few, but I didn't make it all the way in any of them. I guess I wasn't motivated enough to find out my true calling. Which is a little odd, considering how bad things really were.

I'm not exactly sure what stopped me. I think it was partly the canned exercises that seemed pointless and partly the fact that I already knew most of my strengths. But mostly because I didn't care for the way they categorized people. I don't like being labeled "perceiving" vs. "judging" or "extrovert" vs. "introvert". I believe the real world is much more complicated than that. There are times when I think more and times when I depend on my feelings to guide me. It depends on the situation, the people involved, the state of mind I'm in and many other factors. I got frustrated not being able to answer the questions and gave up.

Which, in the end, turned out to be the best move.

I came back to New York and decided to change my job and my schedule so I'd have more free time to explore some of my other interests. In the year that I've been back, I've figured out the best test. It stems from one single word. The answer to what your calling really is lies in the answer to this sentence:

What are you passionate about?

Which can be rephrased as: What moves you? What do you enjoy doing most? What can't you stop thinking about? What would you spend all your time doing if you didn't need to worry about money? What feels more like play than work?

These are all ways to ask the same question. There are many reasons a job might not work out for you. A bad manager, unbearable work mates, obscene hours, undesirable location, too much travel, not enough travel, not enough mobility, etc. These are issues that might cause you to change firms, departments or locations, but not careers.

I think what defines the best career for you is the thing you're most passionate about. It can be something that's directly tied to the job like being an artist cause you're passionate about painting. Or something that indirectly allows you to reach your passion, like being an investment banker cause you're passionate about being rich. Once you can honestly admit to yourself what your true passion is, setting the path to reach it is inconsequential.

I'm not saying it's easy. If you're passionate about art, money might not come easily and therefore you might get discouraged following your passion. Or that it has to be a single thing. You might have several things and then you'd try to find a way to combine them. Or your passion might change and you might need to alter your life completely. Either way, I think that once you know your passion, you're much more likely to find happiness and success.

Here are a few items on my "passion list":
Learning
Reading
Helping Others
Technology

What's on yours?

Previously? The Other Way.

The radio pierces through my dreams.

Or maybe it's my nightmares, I never seem to remember anymore. We've come a long way from the days when my college roommate, Holley, used to holler "Karen, it's your fucking alarm!" Now, Jake turns from one side of the bed to the other and I'm wide awake. I don't dream anymore. I don't really sleep anymore.

The radio is yelling. The dial is in between stations, but close to one so that the music mixes with static. The volume is turned up so high that it makes me jump out of my skin. I pound the tabletop savagely until the room is once again silenced. If I keep my eyes tightly closed, I can postpone the inevitable.

At least for another seven minutes.

The radio comes alive once more and I show it who's boss. But it's not whipped into shape, it takes only another seven minutes for it to commence its nagging. I pound it twice more before I give up. At this point, I have eight minutes to make it out the door. But I don't jump off the bed. I lie there with my eyes open, staring at the patterns on the ceiling.

As a child I always envied the kids with stars on their ceilings. With my less than stellar eyesight, I was unable to see my own hands at night, let alone a pair of florescent constellations. After my eye operation, I went out and bought a set of my own. Now I can stare at star whenever I wish to, even in New York City.

Even at nine A.M.

I finally drag myself into the bathroom, eyelids shut. Reaching for the bubble gum toothpaste, I move my arm up and down and side to side, like a well trained robot. I take my time because I know that I will need to open my eyes to brush my hair and I'm not ready just yet. I can hear the minutes ticking. The fear that I might have a 9:30 meeting grips me and I drop the toothbrush, wash out my mouth and comb my hair within a split second.

I race back to the bedroom and thank my lucky stars that I shaved last night. The long black skirt picks me and I throw on a white shirt and dig into my black shoes, I grab my bag, throwing in the keys on the way out. I yell back to the birdie, "See you tonight, Cupcik."

Hailing a cab, I check my wallet and the time simultaneously. 9:15, I'll make it in on time.

I dig into my bag and pull out my second most precious electronic item. I press play and turn the volume to twenty. The music takes over my soul.

This might be a good day after all.

Previously? The Need for Speed.

Previously? Airplanes and Strangers.

I had an important meeting this morning.

I usually don't work on Mondays but this issue had been bothering me for quite some time and I knew that the Managing Director only had a few available hours in the week and I knew the matter could not be put off another week.

Or I might have blown up.

For someone as emotional as I, conversations about a discomfort with current project setup tend to be complicated. Most often, by the time I get to make the appointment, I've been obsessing about the problem for quite a long while. Since I tend to involve my emotions and make a mountain of small issues, I always need to step back and disengage my feelings. I need to make sure there is a real problem before I start asking people to notice it. Not to undermine myself, I am pretty observant and intuitive, so I do often notice real issues before they become major disasters.

The problem is, I have a real hard time turning off my feelings. I remember how my emotions totally spiraled out of control by the last year in my previous job. There were so many unfair, unprofessional and unacceptable situations that I couldn't concentrate on anything but the problems. The lack of prevention and resolution was mind-boggling.

A most common scenario would be my walking into my manager's office to professionally bring up an issue that needed his help. My manager was so dense and so incredibly bad at understanding people that he would choose the worst possible way to handle the situation and within minutes I would either be extremely frustrated or in tears.

The thing is, no one will take you seriously if you're crying. People tend to take crying as a sign of weakness. While I agree that crying is not professional and should not necessarily be done in a manager's office, often times tears don't mean that there isn't a real issue beneath all the strong emotion. But crying isn't going to get you the results. And it all comes down to resolution. If you're not in your manager's office to get the issue resolved, you should be talking to friend, who's going to listen to you and offer words of consolation.

I've learned that the best way for me to control my emotions and ensure that I stick to the problem at hand is to write things down. Now, before I go to a meeting, I make a list of points and valid complaints. I walk in with suggestions on possible tracks of resolution. I try to come up with examples to back up my arguments and recommendations. And I keep telling myself that it's not personal. It's not about me. It's about the project.

So today, I walked into the office, stated my case and we had a productive and professional conversation about it.

And I didn't shed a tear.

Previously? Unconventional.

As a kid I asked questions incessantly.

My mom tells me that her friends used to tell her to stop constantly answering my inquiries. But she didn't. She'd take the time to answer no matter what or how much I asked.

Kids tend to ask all sorts of questions. Why is the sky blue? Why does it get dark? They question everything. Even the most fundamental concepts have to be proven from scratch to satisfy a child's curiosity.

Children also don't know what's right and what's wrong. Through the help of their parents and the society in which they live, they learn not to say certain things, not to act certain ways. They learn the obstacles that others place in our world, and soon enough they learn to create their very own.

As we grow up, we somehow stop asking questions. I'm not entirely sure if it's because our curiosity is quenched or because we are taught that it's bad form to ask too much.

At one point, we figure out possible outcomes and condition our lives around them. Instead of pushing the boundaries we learn to live within them. A simple no is enough to stop us from trying. We even makeup excuses to reassure our lack of persistence. 'I didn't really want that anyway.' or 'Who needs that?' are statements most commonly used by people who didn't get what they really wanted but aren't willing to admit it to themselves.

Remember when you wanted to go away with your friends for the weekend and your parents wouldn't let you? (or a sleepover, a concert, you can substitute just about anything) Did you give up after asking once? If you're like most teenagers, I bet you came up with a million creative ways of asking. You tried begging, bartering, pleading, threatening. Some of you might have even sneaked out for the night, although you never got the green light to go. The answer no was simply unacceptable. Where did all that creative energy go?

How does that non-relenting teenager become the adult who can't overcome a simple obstacle? Since when does a lack of degree stop you from achieving your dream job? Or lack of previous experience from trying something new?

Not only do we not try to overcome obstacles as strongly as we used to, we also stop questioning the fundamentals. When I was interviewing for a job during my senior year, my decision came down to two firms: the firm I work for now and a well-known consulting firm. There were many advantages and disadvantages to either, which I won't go into here, but my decision was easy once I figured out how the consulting firm worked.

The firm had a few pieces of software that were built in-house. Genuine solutions built from client requirements. Most likely built by good coders/designers, but who knows? Since then, the firm had been tweaking and changing bits and pieces of the original code to make it work with any new client's requirements. They never really took the time to figure out what the client truly wanted, they just listened with an ear towards how they could tweak the current software. I could never work in that firm.

A common occurrence, especially in the ever-evolving and expansive world of technology, is people trying to fit problems into their pre-prepared set of solutions. This consulting firm had an available set of solutions and somehow no client needed a different something new. Since when did we start fitting the problems into the solutions? Since when did we decide repeating what we knew to make us look good was better than expanding onto the unknown? Since when is taking the opportunity to learn something new and to truly listen to the client's needs a bad idea? When did we become such copouts?

As adults we reach a state where we've done something a certain way for so long, that we never ask the original why again. We never go back to the fundamentals and try to see it from a different perspective. We never see it without all the preconceived notions we hold.

Somewhere between childhood and adulthood, we forget to ask all the important questions.

Previously? Multitasking.

I've been thinking about work a lot lately.

About why I do what I do that is.

No, I'm not independently wealthy, and yes, I know that I work so I can make money. But I also know that there are a million, billion ways to make money. So I guess I'm not talking about working as a concept as much as my actual job itself.

I graduated college, that's university for my British readers, almost five years ago. Upon graduation, all too sad to be leaving the breathless beauty that is Pittsburgh, I moved to New York and joined an investment bank, which I still work for, as a programmer.

In my first three years, I worked on multiple projects, all on the UNIX platform with the amazing Motif GUI libraries or the even more fun TK ones, and coded shell scripts, perl scripts, and C code. I traveled to London several times, and even lived there for a few months because of a major project. I learned a tremendous amount in those three years, mostly from the very intelligent people in my surroundings.

My department also had an overwhelming amount of evening and, at times, weekend support work, so I spent what easily qualifies as obscene hours working.

In my forth year, I was asked to go to Tokyo for an extended business trip. Two of the team members there had recently quit, leaving the group in a very difficult situation. Since I'd previously worked for that manager and knew him to be amazing, I seriously considered the offer. Six months without Jake in a country where I didn't speak the language, and one that was incredibly far away both from New York and Istanbul, seemed a bit insane.

But I decided it was exactly what I needed. I was having problems with some of the people I worked with and there was way too much politics going on in my group in New York so work-wise it was the best alternative at the time. And I figured that if Jake and my relationship couldn't survive a six-month long distance, it was better to find out now. I also decided I needed to challenge myself. I needed to find out that I could live without Jake, if I had to, and that I could go to a totally foreign country and make it just fine.

So even though just about all of my friends recommended otherwise, I accepted the offer.

And it turned out to be one of the greatest six months of my life. I loved the people I worked for and with, even the work I did was more fun. I got promoted. I learned not only more about coding, but I can also now speak Japanese. I was totally unfamiliar with Japanese culture and had never been to the Far East. I found out that I could do on my own just fine. My relationship with Jake got ten times stronger. And I decided that as soon as I returned back to the States, I would change my job.

I came back to New York on May 19, 2000. The very next day, I flew home to Turkey to celebrate my mother's fiftieth birthday and my twin nephews' first one. While there, I decided that what I really wanted to do was work part-time. I wanted the time to do other things. I wanted to go to museums. I wanted to volunteer. I wanted to take more classes. I wanted to enjoy life more. Read more books.

I came back to New York with the intention of looking for a part-time job internally until the end of the summer and if I couldn't find one by then, I would look elsewhere. People kept insisting that there were no part-time positions in the firm and that I would end up having to quit. And of course that wasn't the case. I had several options and finally accepted the job that I currently have.

Now I get to write an application from scratch. That's a dream job. Most people in companies like mine get to fix or enhance other people's code. My team and I get to decide our database schema, our system flows, our platform, the languages we'll use, and even the GUI layouts. To top it off, I only work Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays.

Sounds perfect, right?

Well it was. It is. But I still spend many of my days asking myself why I do this. Is this what I really want to do? What do I want to do? And I can't get the questions out of my mind.

I love coding and I don't see myself ever giving it up. I write code for myself, for my friends, and for Jake. But I also want to feel like my work helps others or the world in general. I want to make more of a difference. I want to work with people who will challenge me. And I also want to work from home. I want to be able to work in my pajamas. I want to have my own hours.

And, of course, the question that keeps recurring is: Why don't I?

Why don't I just do it?

Previously? Criticism.

I generally feel pretty excited to be at work on Wednesday mornings. Especially this week, since Friday was a holiday, after the five-day weekend I was totally ready to walk in there and kick some butt.

And I did.

For a while.

I cancelled all my morning meetings and did a huge amount of work. I made decisions, I figured out some of the stuff that had been frustrating me awhile, I called my teammates and organized stuff. By the time I walked into my 1pm meeting, I'd already accomplished more than half the items on my to-do list and I felt good.

I was in the zone.

The 1pm meeting wasn't even for me. My application is supposed to use this library that's written by another team and they wanted me to explain some of my object model so they could be sure the library would function properly. As I sat there explaining my system and its parts, they started talking about how I should organize the information so it would work. And I sat there trying to decipher what exactly they meant. I'm not familiar with the library as much as I'd like to be and I kept getting more and more frustrated as they spoke.

By the time I left the meeting, I was kaput for the rest of the day. I sat in my chair, deflated and unwilling to do anything. After a few minutes of trying to listen to my thoughts, I realized that it was my lack of knowledge that made me mad. I hate the idea of being involved with something I don't fully understand. I'm not just talking about the fear of starting a new project where you've never done such a thing and you feel clueless and don't have any idea where to even begin. This was worse than that. I have to use this library. I have to really understand it or I'm screwed. And right now, I don't have the time to sit and learn it. I have a million other things I'm supposed to do for this project.

I think this is why I take so many classes, I hate being in an environment where I'm clueless and I have this intense need to learn everything so the two put together make my life all about school.

I guess it could be worse, though I'm not really sure anymore.

Previously? Conditioning.

Each time I go to another "for women" meeting, I get more and more disappointed in members of my gender.

As a way of celebrating Women's History Month (which pisses me off in so many ways that I won't go into it) my firm organized a session on women and money. I ran to the session twenty minutes late cause I had a meeting, so I can't vouch for the first part of the meeting. But the second part gave me enough frustration to last a few weeks. It also confirmed my suspicions that I must not be female.

The first thing the presenter does is ask people what their parents taught them about money. Several hands go up. Women say: "My dad told me never to pay on a date.", "My mom used to sing 'Daddy's coming home, he'll give us all his money.'", "My mom told me to marry rich.", and this went on and on.

Holy Fucking Shit! Is this the 21st century or not? Every single woman in this room is working at quite a prestigious firm, so we're not talking people who went to college to find a husband. Or why would they be working?

My mom never graduated high school. My father never finished college. Both have worked pretty much every single day I've been alive. Neither ever told me to make the man pay or that I'd never be able to make money on my own. I don't mean to imply that my parents never disagreed about money. They fought all the time, even though we were fortunate enough to have enough to go around.

My father used to hate the enormous phone bills so much that when my sister and I were teenagers, he had machines installed on the phone lines to cut us off after three minutes (cost multiplies in Turkey every three minutes so the longer you're on the phone, the more you pay). It wasn't that we didn't have the money to pay; he just got irritated by how much we took advantage of the situation. Most money related issues were handled similarly. If we really wanted something we got it but not if it was merely caprice. For some reason, I don't think that either my sister or I never took anything for granted. We never assumed that all we wanted could be ours. Even now, we're more likely to not buy something than go crazy with shopping.

So I don't know whether my parental education on issues of money was any healthier than other people's but I was never ever told that I would need a man to provide the cash in my life.

The presenter says that a large population of women fear being a "bag lady". Huh? She claims this is a common fear in wealthy, professional women. Huh? Maybe I'm snotty, but I have never ever had that fear. Or anything equivalent. Is that cause I'm fortunate enough to have a family who's financially secure? Nope. I know better than to assume that money today has any guarantees. My parents could get sick and that money would disappear literally within days due to doctors' fees. They could make bad investments. There are a million things that could go wrong. I could even lose my own savings overnight and be forced to start from scratch.

So what? Don't I still have a brain? Even if all technology jobs dried up and I couldn't get something in my field, I could learn a new skill. How is it that women question their capacity to mold to different situations? And don't even get me started on the presenter's opinion on women and math. I'm so sick of women becoming victims and I'm even sicker of women who victimize themselves.

I have many fears, but the ability to make money has never been one of them. It seems that makes me a minority in my gender.

What a shame.

Previously? Unspoken.

As my backache dissipates, life is becoming fun once more. Everything must be good cause I've been searching for trouble lately.

Last week, I picked a fight with Jake three days in a row. I looked for any possible excuse and tried to be overly harsh and too judgmental. Having been with me for as long as he has, Jake was kind and patient and didn't let me stupidly ruin our relationship.

A similar scenario ensued at work. I told my workmate that if people get on my nerves, I might just walk out. That maybe I'll move to San Francisco or even Turkey. Maybe drive across country. Just something drastic and different. To which my very sweet workmate responded, "Please don't quit now. Finish this project and then quit."

Obviously I don't want to quit my job or leave Jake. I have this amazing setup at work and I adore my job. And you already know how I feel about Jake. So it seems rather odd that I have this urge to ruin my life.

But I do.

Not to ruin my life, really. But to do something drastic. Something crazy. Something wildly uncharacteristic. Something that I can tell my kids about. Something I can't tell my parents about.

The thing is, I probably won't do a thing.

I never have.

Previously? Mental Trance.

I started talking about my struggles at work. I seem to be one of those people who takes everything to heart. Everything is extremely important and everything is personal. As I explained the situation I’m having at work, he told me that I can’t do everything. He talked about redefining my ideas of what makes me successful at my job. He explained that even if my project becomes a major failure in my eyes, it might be seen as a huge success by my users and managers. He’s right, of course. Sometimes even if I’m aware that I didn’t do a detail in the perfect way, it doesn’t affect the system in a visible way and no users are disappointed.

Working for a corporation, especially one whose main line of business is not technology is as much about politics as it is about building systems. You need to make sure that you lose some fights so the user feels like he’s getting his way even if what he wants is wrong and you know it. Even if I build the most amazing system that functions in the most efficient way possible, if no users use it, the system is a failure. The trick is to make everyone feel like the system was especially built for them while not giving up the idea of building it the right way. One of the reasons I am building this system is cause the two other systems that are supposed to function in the same way were both built with a narrow-minded focus and they are inflexible.

As I explained to Jake last night, one of the reasons I went part-time a few months ago was to use my time more efficiently. In the last four years, I had to put way too much face-time and it drove me crazy. I’m happy to stay at work until the wee hours of the morning if I have work to do, but during the quiet times, I like to leave early and do the million other things I’d rather be doing. I figured that if I only worked three days a week, I’d have more to do on those days and I’d stop feeling like I was giving up my life to make money. I am delighted to say that I was right and my new schedule is fantastic. I get tons of work done and I can take eight classes a week and spend a day volunteering. I get to use my minutes more wisely and feel much more fulfilled.

As a side effect to this new belief system, my ideas of success seem to have morphed as well. Since I have sort of taken myself off the road to quick stardom and upward mobility, I am less concerned about whether others think that I did a good job. I want to do things the right way. At least, I want to know what the right way is and then make it an active choice not to go that way (if there is a decent reason) . I don’t want to work just to make money, I want my work to push me to learn and to challenge myself. Otherwise, I’m back to wasting time. I’m not saying I don’t care what the users think or whether my team members agree with me, I’m just saying that I don’t want to do things the sloppy way. I want to feel good about my job. I want to feel like I learn, like I make a difference, and I want to be proud of the quality of work I deliver.

It seems that’s too much to ask.

Previously? Help Me!

At age 7, I decided I wanted to work with computers. I didn't even have a computer, so I have no idea how I came to that conclusion but I did.

At age 12, I decided I wanted to go to the United States for college.

Those two decisions have never changed. For a while, I entertained the idea of going to college in Toronto, where my aunt lives, but the moment I visited Carnegie Mellon, I knew I was destined to end up in the US. I've also contemplated going into a career where I'd get to restore paintings by using computers. But my main decisions of leaving my homeland and going into a field that seriously involved computers never changed.

Until now.

At the age of 17, I did leave Turkey and attend Carnegie Mellon, majoring in Information Systems with minors in Art and Computer Science. I even got a Masters degree in management at the same time. During the summer of my junior year, I worked at Bell Laboratories (they hadn't become Lucent, yet). As much fun as that was, I decided to join a firm that wasn't primarily a technology firm. I figured since technology was my field, I'd make sure to keep up on it either way and I wanted to join a firm where I'd have the opportunity to also learn about another field.

So, after graduation, I joined a really prestigious investment bank. It is the kind of firm where I could make a career and since I'm happy to dedicate myself to a firm, it all sounded great to me. Unfortunately, my first few years didn't work out all that well. I've had successes and happy days. I got to live in London for several months and in Tokyo for six months. So it's not that I haven't had great opportunities, but I've also had some unfortunate situations.

Due to that, last May, I decided I needed a drastic change in my life. For the first time ever, I started questioning my choices. As much as I like computers, I wondered whether that's what I want to spend my life doing. I bought a whole bunch of books on choosing a career; I was desperate to figure out what I was really meant to do. I considered every option including going back to college, taking some time off, moving to a different company, moving to a different area in my company, and many others.

At the end, I stayed in the same firm. I moved to a totally different area and I work three days a week. I work from Wednesdays to Fridays. On Mondays, I take three or four classes and on Tuesdays, I volunteer at the New York Society for the Deaf. I am the first to admit that I have a great setup and I'm enjoying it tremendously. I am 100% happier.

The thing is, I still don't know what I want to do. While my current situation is amazing, I'm not really sure how long it will last. I have this continuous nagging voice inside that keeps telling me that I need to make up my mind. For a girl who knew what she wanted since 7, the idea of all this unknown is really scary and I truly hate that I can't just relax and enjoy my current good luck.

If anyone has good ideas on how I can figure out what I should do with my life, I am truly open to any and all suggestions. If you know how to shut up my little voice, speaking up about that would be amazingly useful, as well.

How did you know what you wanted to do with your life?

Before?

She told us a little of her life story and how she made it to where she is. I liked some of the points she made so much, that I wanted to record them. Please note that these are my interpretations of her words, not her actual words.

One of the things she mentioned was how she never had a true mentor. She had many people help shape her life and future but no one person she emulated fully. She said that for the most part, she tried to make her own journey. She used the word journey in conjunction with life often and advised us to ensure our journeys are not imitations of others. I think that's precious advice. When you see someone at a spot you see yourself reaching one day, try to observe how she got there. Approach them and ask questions. You'd be amazed at how many people love to be approached. But when it comes to your path, lay your own. We all have one life to live, at least one that we remember, and we should make it memorable. Don't take the easy road by stealing other people's experiences. Make your own. At the end, even if you haven't reached the desired goal, the journey will have been amazing.

Another point she made was about working at a place where you can be who you are. I think most of us try to fit into the culture of a firm instead of finding a firm where the culture fits who we are. If you work with people who appreciate who you are instead of telling you to change, you will flourish and be immensely more productive. Not to mention, happy. I think it's crucial, for personal fulfillment, to work at a place that celebrates who you are instead of trying to stump your growth.

Similar to the above comment, she mentioned being loyal to your firm. She said that if you're loyal during the good days, be even more loyal during the bad ones. One of the values that disappeared with the booming economy is loyalty. One of the things that makes you loyal to the firm is how you feel about what they do and the kind of people who work there. If you're proud of your firm and think it to be exceptional, leaving becomes a difficult decision. Take the time to think about the place where you spent most of your day. Are you proud of where you work? Does it represent you as a person?

Dr. Simmons gave a lot of other great advice. Some of which I agreed with and others where I had a differing point of view. Either way, it was a really interesting and enjoyable hour.

One is how, even when we grow up, we're put through tests and situation that make us fell like children. Like, in their case, they had to take this psychological exam as part of their application and then they had to take classes and exams while employed there. Also, she mentions the mystery shoppers and how the managers praise people in public and how no one wants to not have done well cause everyone will know about it. It’s funny how we always want people to think well of us and how desperate we are to please.

While it's possible that Kinko’s does more of this than other firms, most large companies do treat their employees like children. They make you take tests or go through training about the company's culture. I find it quite interesting that when you're a kid, you look forward to a time when your words will not be overridden by adults and then you grow up and, in some ways, act even more childish than you ever did before. For example, the reason we have subjects like 'Is he approachable?' in our yearly feedback forms is because as they grow up, people become more judgmental and start segregating people. Whereas a kid who's never been told that someone is less important than he is would never know to make such a differentiation. Which then becomes the reason to treat these so-called adults like children. Therein lies the irony of the entire thing.

Another interesting point she makes is about how her job has resolutions as opposed to everything else in life. She mentions teaching and marriage as examples. I think this is one of the reasons I like programming so much. When my code works, I feel a huge sense of accomplishment. The same goes for the 3-D graphics I do. Immediate feedback and a sense of completion. (Tho both in art and programming, you can always tweak things to be more perfect.) I get the same feeling when I finish a book. While I'm sad it's over, I feel fulfilled. In a world where we have no way of fixing or changing many things, it feels good to have something completed.

Go read the word article, I think you might find it interesting, too. Let me know what you thought of it.

Btw, I remember when word had that three-eyed smiley and I used to love it. I wish they brought it back. Even though they have some really neat layouts and effects, I miss the little smiley dude.