The Job Search: Pt. 3

When I was talking to my mom the other day, she told me, flat-out, that she doesn’t know anything about looking for a job in another city. I was well-aware of this fact already, but hearing her say it finally drove it home. 

A divide exists between me and my parents. There are some things that they simply cannot help me with. They can only support me up to a certain point, and after that, I’m on my own. As much as I relish the thought, it also scares me.

I love my parents. They worked hard and made an honest living, but neither one went to college. As much as my parents might think that they understand the college experience and what it means to pursue a career, I fear that they don’t. They don’t understand because they’ve never gone through the process. 

I wish they could have had the opportunities that they have been able to give me, but they didn’t. My mom once said that parents want their kids to have a better life than them. It’s only natural. 

But when the children actually attain that better life, it puts them at odds with their parents because each traveled down a different life path. And then, as much as they want to understand each other, they can’t.

My mom tells me I don’t have to live in my hometown. She says, “Go ahead and move. Go live anywhere.” But the tone she uses says something else. And then I get defensive, and it’s all downhill from there. 

From a career perspective, opportunities in my field don’t exist in that area. If I end up working for some small-town newspaper, something went seriously wrong in my life.

I want more than that.

– Alyssa Hoogendoorn

The Job Search: Pt. 2

It’s hard not to compare my internship experience at the YWCA with my many others, or compare Chicago with London, where I studied abroad for two months last year. Really, it’s like dealing with old boyfriends. You’re not supposed to compare the old with the new…but you do it anyways.

I hope I learn to love Chicago because I don’t want to go back to rural Iowa, but I don’t know if I want to stay here. It reminds me of the song “Closing Time” by Semisonic – the line that says, "You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here." Not sure that the song perfectly fits my situation, but it’s a good song either way.

I’m actually going back to Iowa in a couple weeks because that’s when I could catch a ride with someone to go. Getting some space from the city (and breathing some non-smog-filled air) may help me clear my head and figure out if this place is where I really want to be, or if I’m settling again – afraid to take any chances and go somewhere else for fear of failure.

The only way I can fail myself is by not embracing the opportunities open to me and by not using my talents to their fullest potential.

Navigating myself through that process – I’ll have to figure it out on my own. I wouldn't want it any other way. But I’m still open to advice.

– Alyssa Hoogendoorn

The Job Search: Pt. 1

With my December graduation date getting ever-closer, I’ve been searching for a job the past couple of weeks. And the prospects, or shall I say lack thereof, are depressing. Not having an income for three months and not knowing if I will have a job in about a month makes spending any money very hard.

The remedy: not going out much on weekends, and sometimes job searching instead.

My Friday routine involves getting back to the apartment at 4 p.m. and then hunkering down on the couch with my laptop to watch the episodes of The Daily Show, The Colbert Report, and Project Runway from the night before. After those shows are over, it’s back to Netflix browsing.

This is what my Friday nights looked like back in Iowa, except my boyfriend would be the one running the remote control.

I can’t say it doesn’t bother me that I haven’t gone out much and I’ve been in Chicago for over eight weeks. Isn’t nightlife supposed to be a big draw to the city? Isn’t that one of the reasons why I wanted to live here – so I would have something to do on the weekends?

I’m surrounded by restaurants, bars, pubs and coffee shops. And, of course, I can’t forget about the fashion – the infamous shopping district. I walk down Michigan Avenue to get to work. Looking at the beautiful clothes one moment and knowing I can’t afford them the next has become a daily ritual for me.

I just wish the media would stop reporting about the “dismal employment prospects” and stop asking, “Is college worth it?” I had that question answered a long time ago, thank you very much.

But I was talking to my mom the other day about some of these things, and I said, “I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life.” Then, she said, “At least you have a place to live.”

Now, I thought she meant right now. Right now, I have a place to live. So I started thinking, “Yeah, it’s good that I have an apartment. I have a roof over my head. I’m not homeless and out on the street.”

My mom meant, in December, I have a place to live, a room in my parent’s basement in rural Iowa…

Thanks, Mom and Dad.

– Alyssa Hoogendoorn

Occupy Chicago: Until I Get a Job

On Sunday afternoon, I set out to find Occupy Chicago [occupychi.org], a spinoff of Occupy Wall Street. I checked the latest news on the social movement to make sure it’s safe, unlike New York where an NYPD officer used pepper spray on a couple of women protestors. [http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2043308/NYPD-cop-Anthony-Bologna-pepper-sprays-Occupy-Wall-Street-protesters-video.html]. I didn’t find anything like that coming out of Chicago and decided the Windy City must be more civilized than our East Coast friends (… just don’t check any of today’s articles and you can keep believing that).

Occupy Chicago set up camp in a strategic location: right in front of the Federal Reserve Bank building. This was supposed to make some grand statement about the people’s fight against corporate abuse, or something.

When I was in London last summer, peace protestors set up camp in Parliament Square and the gathering soon gained the name Democracy Village. The latest social movement sweeping through major cities in the United States reminded me of that.

Like the London Parliament Square squatters, the Chicagoan occupants claim to be peaceful protestors, part of a non-violent social movement, supporting who knows what – so I’m like, what the heck, why not go check it out?

So I look up directions to the location, Google map it, and this is what it says:

Go to Clark/Division.

Take the Red Line Subway towards 95th.

Get off at Monroe.

Head west on W Monroe St. toward S Dearborn St.

Turn right on S LaSalle St.

Arrive at 231 N LaSalle St.

I see Monroe and think, I know Monroe – that’s the stop I take to get to the Chicago Semester offices. I should be fine. I write down the directions and assume it’s foolproof to follow. So I’m walking along, thinking I totally know where I’m going. Then, I take that right onto S LaSalle St. and never arrive to where I’m supposed to be.

With hardly any people in sight, I keep walking down LaSalle Street, filling the eerie silence with the sound of my heels hitting the pavement. Few cars. No sirens. Is it safe?

These are the sights and sounds of the Chicago business district on a Sunday afternoon.

I end up at the corner of Randolph and LaSalle. I walked the wrong way. I look down Randolph Street and see Hotel Allegro, the place I called home for my first week in Chicago. With familiar sights surrounding me again, I walk towards the nearest bus stop that will take me back to my apartment.

If it’s a serious social movement, Occupy Chicago will be somewhere in the city tomorrow and the days after that until we see results … or violence.

Living off of Little and Learning to Love ... or Finding Happiness in a Bowl of Noodles

Driving into the west side of my hometown, the welcome sign says, “Place of opportunities.” That’s the tagline of the community I come from. This past summer, I checked job listings in the local newspaper every week.

Here’s what I found: unless I suddenly gained superwoman strength to lift 70 pounds or had cattle-herding skills and a truck driver’s license, I need not apply. My only other viable option for making a living seemed to be settling down as a hog farmer’s housewife. And for that, I only have one word: pass.

I come from a small town in a rural area known for its farming and manufacturing communities. That sign on the west side of town mocks me.

And that’s one reason why I left. One reason why I’m here.

Hello, Chicago.

***

After three weeks in the city, I can say it would be easy to complain about the food and clothes I can’t afford. And it would be easy to complain about the “cozy” apartment, public transportation, and the internet and cable company that took two weeks to show up.

But I didn’t come to Chicago to have an easy time. I came to be challenged in ways that only a place as diverse as the third largest city in the country can afford. I came to discover a place where opportunities and my desires align, a place where my talents can fill a need that reaches far beyond me.

I came to live the dream, and nothing about that is easy or as glamorous as you think it should be, especially when you’re trying to live off of something called a broke student’s budget.

Little about city-living is as glamorous as it appears on TV. But sometimes it’s fun to pretend, if only for awhile, before reality sinks in.

***

As I was window shopping on Michigan Avenue the other day, I walked into Chicago’s newly opened Topshop, which is London’s leading clothing store. I love British fashion, but the prices make me feel poor … That is, until I step outside the shop doors and see a homeless man on the street corner begging for a dollar. I don’t know the meaning of poor.

The sights of the city change in an instant.

At the end of the day, I might not be wearing the latest fashion trends or dining at a top-rated Chicago restaurant, but I know where my next meal is coming from – even if it is Ramen noodles.

Appreciating the little things means not getting overwhelmed by designer label clothing stores like Louis Vuitton, Burberry and Michael Kors that I see on my way to work.

Living off of little and learning to love what you have is a matter of city survival. And who’s to say I can’t find happiness in a bowl of noodles?

Ironically, I came here to escape the simplicity of small-town life, but I have seldom lived so plainly or cheaply ever before. It’s all about perspective and what you’re willing to accept as a way of life.

I don’t know about you, but I choose Ramen over the role of hog farmer’s housewife. And for that, I’m happy, and no one can take that away.

–Alyssa Hoogendoorn