Data Entry

Data entry is not a fun project to take on, but as an admin over the last few years I have learned that it is inevitable that I will partake in data entry at least twice throughout the year. By data entry I mean HUGE projects that make my eyes hurt from moving them back and forth from files to my computer screen. I am currently working on a data entry project that is “low priority” but has been put on my plate because I am the newbie. One good thing about this data entry project is that I can’t really mess it up because there is no current set up for what I’m doing. On top of that, I have found that my research skills are becoming sharper every minute.

But this current data entry project of mines makes me wonder what a data entry project of my life would look like. If I had 70+ boxes of documents and asked someone to archive them, what would the headings be? Take for example, my “captain’s log” from my 5th grade project on voyaging across the world. This could go in several spots. It could go under “children’s art” or “school projects.” It could be “5th grade-Ms. Hein’s class” or “journals/diaries.” But putting such headings on this project would not tell the story of how I wrote about my “negro deck hand, Sammy” and how my teacher called my mom to find out where I heard the word “negro.” (I heard it on a documentary show about slavery one night and I was into using new words so I used it.) I would categorize this under “that’s Jyl.”

What about my piano medals and trophies? They could go under “music” or “awards.” But those categories wouldn’t talk about how my brother and I used to play duets or how my great grandma, Mammy Mammy, loved listening to us play piano. It wouldn’t explain my homemade dresses or how I used to memorize my music because my teacher thought that perfection was key. It wouldn’t explain all the times I sat at the piano bench glaring at my mom when she made me practice or when my scales weren’t fluid enough.

Or you could look at my box of letters and notes I’ve kept since I was in elementary school. Yes, it may be excessive and if a person were to actually archive these, they might ask me if they could only keep the important ones or if they could all be tossed. They could put it under the category ”letters/cards” but that wouldn’t tell about how I kept all the cards my grandpa gave me for every holiday and birthdays–it’s the only thing I have left of him and I can’t let that go. It wouldn’t tell about the “anti-date” stamp I have from Camp Elim that JB carved one summer to encourage our campers that dating wasn’t the reason you went to summer camp, and friendships last longer. JB died on December 14th 4 years ago.

You see, no one can archive our lives because they don’t fit into categories. Try as hard as I may, my life cannot be boxed or planned. Nothing can be shoved into what I want it to be, but I try. Like any data entry project, I over do it and my eyes start to hurt. It’s like I try to clean and organize my life so that there’s not a mess on the floor, but in all reality, that’s how it looks best because when everything is put away it’s not put in the right spot or it could go anywhere. I don’t think I can change how I try to plan and organize even though I am well aware that it doesn’t work, but the comfort that everything that happens in life has a place is too hard to give up, and in a world that is constantly changing, I can’t help but try to fit everything into boxes and categories.

What’s in a Name?

Well, Juilet, let me tell you. (careful, you may learn something new about me that you might not know.)

My given name is Jillian. Yes, with an “i” and two “ll’s” I go by Jyl. At work I’m Jill. Where did “JYL” come from? I was the only Jillian in school until 4th grade until Jillian Wollenbug came to town. I wanted to set myself apart from her so I started to spell my name “JYL.” 15 years later it’s how I know myself and how a lot of people know me. Since beginning work at Microsoft a little over a month ago, I realized that the older I get the less likely it will be for me to convince corporate America to spell my name “JYL.” Does it really matter? Not really, but it looks weird. It actually took about three weeks for me to have the Outlook people change my name from Jillian to Jill. And, there a still a lot of people that call me Jillian, which I don’t like, because I have only known my mom to call me Jillian. Someone called me Jillian the other day and the hair on my neck stood up–did I do something wrong? I promise I’ll be home soon….I asked her to call me Jill, and she was okay with that (who wouldn’t be?) but I was really surprised how upset it made me.

It’s like my entire identity lies in the subtraction of three letters, and further than that, by the substitution of a “y” and less one “l.” Maybe the grow up Jyl is really Jill, definitely not Jillian. But what will MBA Jyl be? Will she be Jillian? I’m afraid that pretty soon Jyl will be a distant memory as I feel my child-like ways becoming a (should I say it?) woman. Maybe Jill is a competent administrator at Microsoft, avid studier, constant learner and prompt worker. Maybe Jillian is going to be a successful business woman, mother and friend. That’s a lot of maybes. But it’s all in the name, Juliet. I think it’s a little more complicated than a rose. It’s really who I am. I’m Jillian, Jill and Jyl depending on my circumstance and now, job.

Extra Time

I find that when I have extra time on my hands I am prone to page through Facebook. I first check the various status updates, then recent photo albums, mobile uploads, tagged friends and updated profiles. Sometimes I click on a Facebook friend that interests me, possibly write on their wall or comment on his or her photo. Then, every once in a while, a name will pop in my head and I will click on the friend search and see how they are doing only to find out that I am no longer friends with that person. I hope that sometimes there is a glitch and friends just get deleted. What a mean thing to do to a Facebook friend–delete them purposefully when the 700+ other friends you have I’m sure you don’t talk to either. (actually, I’m being dramatic.) Does this happen to you? If not, then I guess it really is me, but if so, I would feel a lot better.

Another thing is that I don’t think that people NEED to grab attention via their Facebook status. Writing things like “Jane Doe can’t believe this is happening.” or “John Doe wants to kill himself.” Things that warrant comments on your status like “is everything okay?” or “what’s going on?” are not good things to put as your status. Let’s be honest here, most of your Facebook friends aren’t really your true friends and when I have an inkling to check back in with your Facebook page to see what your status comments have said in hopes that you might be dying or something makes me frustrated because chances are that we haven’t talked since high school or even middle school and I’m wasting my time caring about you and your open-ended status. On top of that, most of you don’t even respond to your own status when people ask what’s going on. Way to care about those people that care about you…

And while we’re on this topic, the pictures of you posing sexy in your room or on “vaca” in Vegas are probably not the best choice for a post-college profile pictures because chances are that your future employer is going to check you out, and on top of that, I don’t want to see that. Is that really how you walk around, with pouty lips and half naked? Here’s a tip: if you’re sexy, you’re sexy and you don’t have to take stupid pictures of yourself to try to prove you’re sexy. If you’re just cute, be happy that you’re not ugly. If you’re ugly, no one wants to see that. (just kidding. kind of.) But just use your common sense. Facebook isn’t just for your college buddies anymore. Put a sensible picture up and put your bikini back in your drawer.

These are merely suggestions, Facebook friends. Do with it what you want. And, clearly, I have a lot of extra time on my hands….

I Found this Quote

It seems appropriate for the time in my life I’m at and I know most of you are at as well. It’s by my friend, Ralph Waldo Emerson:

“We are all inventors, each sailing out on a voyage of discovery, guided each by a private chart, of which there is no duplicate. The world is all gates, all opportunities.”

Happy Sailing.

 

Things I’m Allergic To

Mangos
bananas
Guava Fruit
Passion Fruit
Pistachios
Bee & Wasp Stings
Incompetence

I Had a Good Thought the Other Day

It was a good thought until I thought about the legistics some more, then it ended up being an ideal.
My thought process started when I thought about going to New York City sometime. I have a few friends out there and I have always wanted to go to New York City. Then I thought it probably wouldn’t be a good idea fo rme to go to New York City, because I would probably love it and I would have yet another place that I would have to visit in my dreams. There are so many places I want to live; so many places I want to be all at once, but it’s just not possible. I think of being by my family and being able to spend dinners together as once cohesive unit rather than three separate places. I want to be in London, Florence, Chicago, Denver, San Diego, San Francisco and Seattle all at the same time, and I never want to leave any of them, so this is when this “good thought” occured:
What if we were all destined to live in different places at differnet times in our lives, but we were assigned to these places. Let me explain: what if we are born somewhere, then in 5-10 years have to move somewhere else (with everyone you know) so it’s like the places and people you grew up with are the same people you grow old with, just in different cities. I thought about how great it would be–save stress from having to buy airfare and take vacation time away, or simply just having family around all the time.
Then this thought occured to me: then you would never meet other people. Every time you went somewhere new, there would be new resturants, new faces, but in all reality, you already would have the friends and family you need, so there would be no need to connect with people. It’s the need to belong that brings strangers together, and it’s that need that I think keeps bonds from breaking in new places.
We all know people that stayed in our hometowns and still hang out with the same people, and we take inventory of the last few years, realizing how much we’ve changed and grown. Friends and family come visit us in what has slowly become a new home for ourselves, and we realize that time does not stand still, and while we try as hard as possible to ensure that we will always have those ties to our homes, it is vital that we move on a bit and grow into the people that we are destined to be. I love my friends. I love my family. I love the places I’ve traveled and the places I will hopefully someday visit again, but I realize that the possibilities for me are still endless and maybe someday my ideal can come true–hopefully someday I can take my niece out to dinner or have my brother over for a dinner becuase he lives just down the street, but life has its funny way of mimicing a road that has endless turns and changes so who knows where our roads will end; I guess it’s the actual road that becomes our lives and it takes us to places we don’t even know existed.

A River Runs Through It

One of my favorite memories is from the middle of my freshman year. Freshman year, SPU requires each student to take a class called USEM, kind of a way to have connections with other students and a professor to make the move to college easier. My class was small–about 15 students, and our professor was Dr. Caddell. The name of our class was “My Church from the Back Row.” It was a sociological view of various religious practices and views. On the first day of class, Dr. Caddell told us that he and his wife like to invite the class over to their house in Bremerton to get to know them on a different level.

So, right before the holidays, Dr. and Mrs. Caddell invited us to their house for a Mexican fiesta. Not everyone could go, but the seven of us that could go hopped on a ferry and headed over to Bremerton to the Caddell’s house. We were greeted by his two daughters who loved meeting college students. Mrs. Caddell had dinner ready for us when we walked in–takitos, burritos with homemade tortillas, refried beans and soda. After dinner we thought we were going to head back home, but Dr. Caddell insisted we sit and hang out for a while. He suggested we watch A River Runs Through It, a movie I never thought I would like until then, but now sits on my DVD shelf. While we were watching the movie, Mrs. Caddell made us chocolate cake with chocolate mint icing–she served it to us hot. We didn’t leave until we had to in order to catch the last ferry back to Seattle.

I think I remember that moment because it was the first time I was to a real home since I left Colorado to go to college. I was so impressed with the welcome we had I actually added Sociology to my major because of Dr. Caddell. Throughout my three and a half years of earning my degree, Dr. Caddell was always available for me to talk about school or life. During my last quarter at school, I took “Medical Sociology” with Dr. Caddell. He announced that it was going to be his last year at SPU; he was moving on to a teaching position at the University of Iowa. He sounded excited for the future, but I was sad to know that SPU was losing a kind and passionate professor.

It wasn’t a huge gesture, but I will always remember going to Bremerton to Dr. Caddell’s house. Here are a few pictures from that day I scraped up:

Olivia, Lisa and Lauren

CJ and Cory

Melanie and Me

Working from Home

Something that I am learning about myself is that although I value being taken care of, I am more independent and stubborn than I have admitted in the past. It frustrates me when I am helpless or when I need to sit still or take it easy.

I have been working from home these past three days because I’ve been weak and dizzy. My stomach is still shaky and I just don’t feel like myself yet. This morning I drove to work with hopes that I could make my 2:00 p.m. meeting and 3:30 conference call. Like I usually do, I pushed myself too hard, even walked from the park garage to my office, and before long, my queasiness got the best of me.

On my way home I realized that there are sometimes when working from home is best, recovery is best and slowing down is best. I think that sometimes I push others the way I push myself and I know that’s not best for anyone.

So let’s use “work from home” as a code. I’ll start using it with myself when I start to get out of hand and need to calm down. Or, you can use it when I am pushing you in a way I can handle myself, but shouldn’t expect you do be pushed.

Fall Cleaning

That is what my body is doing to itself. Twice in three months I’ve had food poisoning. Either my body has something in it that it really doesn’t want in it or I really need to start watching what I eat…at least I have the luxury to work from home.

30 Months

30 months ago you picked me up in your 2006 silver Mazda speed 6, wearing your dark wash jeans and white Quicksilver button down shirt. We played pool at The Garage, then went out to Dennys for Oreo sundaes. I wore my blue t-shirt I loved (but don’t have anymore), dressy jeans and my mustard colored Converse.

You had me right then, mr. grande caramel macchiato. I’m glad you faked liking coffee.