Journeying To Graduate School

This past weekend, I remembered how I concluded the search for graduate schools. Nothing could have prepared me for the mental evolution ever since I started applying. Initially, I only knew I wanted to do my GRE and GMAT and apply to graduate programs for a dual degree.

Without more than the knowledge that I needed to do extremely well in these standardized steps, I started with the low hanging fruit – studying for the tests, and after the results, discovering how I could get through just the exams. After studying and passing both sets of exams, I decided to prioritize taking the path to public health.

For those who have often had plans laid out before them, and never really had to make deliberate plans in one direction or another, you can imagine my trepidation in defining the early stages of my career through my training. It was with much thought, that I decided to pursue a Masters.If you haven’t often had to lay out complex plans, start now, because time was the friend that made me realize, it is my life, and right now, I have to.

Self reflection can systematically break you down. Couple some harsh introspection with a clash of busy and intimidating work conditions, and you can totally lose it. Thankfully, this process of turning yourself inside out and discovering what exactly it means to be a student writing about myself was productive. The breaking down of my long term and short term goals, coupled with my skills, and interests called on me to identify who I am, what others perceive of my strengths, and what I would like to do in future.

As I had become accustomed to throughout my school years, I motioned closer to my profs. I needed to know what was the best way to start presenting my academic papers to my prospective schools. I started with a professor who had shaped my latter undergraduate years, a scholar-mentor-friend figure who I respect. At first, when I emailed with a shortlist of what I thought I would present, he replied asking more questions. After his answering with a series of thought provoking questions, I felt the impetus to forge ahead quite strongly, and I really re-wrote my work.

Despite his busy schedule, he met me, listened to me wade through tentative descriptions of my work and described succinctly how to move your mind into the academic viewpoint. He gave me the teacher’s best gift to a student, the ability to translate their observations of your work and perspectives and create a powerful stamp of approval that propels the student to ardently pursue his or her own goals.

Whoever tells you applying to graduate school is easy is not applying while working full-time managing timely deadlines, and a full social calendar, family and friends. However, the ease I found with this great directional help from my professor allowed me to know what I was going to do to apply, and convinced me that this was indeed the educational opportunity that I sought.

When you are applying to graduate school, you quickly discover that everyone has an idea of where you ought to be. You have to have the deep-seated resonant voice of a strong willed child to distinguish the effusive-yet-empty praisers from those deeply invested in your success.

It helped to have some goals and a view of who I am and what I hope to achieve, to help me determine the direction the true voice was coming from. Overall, the responses were powerful. While many people who I trust and turn to seemed to think that I would make a particularly good grad student, some were not convinced. I know now there will always be dissenters, whose negativity must be tempered with good grace.

All my academic advisers had my back throughout this iterative process. There are many people who worked with me on this part, and I have to highlight one, in particular. He guided me and did so in a diligent, pragmatic and exemplary manner. He was unshakeable in his support, sure that I would get into both of his prestigious alma maters – his first academic loves – or really, any school I set my heart to attending.

I read letters from classmates and friends in the professional world who were undergoing similar trying processes. Many did not make it. Either they bombed the GREs, or messed up their apps, or couldn’t get good recommendations. Something was always up, it seemed. For others, it seemed as if their every word turned to another letter of acceptance accompanied by an offer of full funding. Such is life, I thought.

In the face of all of this, I started to hope. I planned my next vacation (far beyond the hand-in dates for the applications) and started what I thought would be just 4 applications. At one point after making these plans, I gave up  by saying it out loud, to my family and dear ones. And immediately, I regretted giving up almost right away. I found, to my deep delight and relief, that I had many people around me who would not let me give up. You need these people. I am glad I have had the chance to thank them.

Next, I asked for writing help. Despite my experience as a blogger and many-time writer, I found that the statement that I had written was not yet up to par. I logged online one evening, and found a friend who I had not met for a long time, who was now making a name for herself increasing the writing potential for her community. She heard my predicament, and offered her advice at no fee (a boon to my pocket and to my project)

And my mind opened up. I challenged the notion of possibility. I chose to believe and reproduce things that I had done, creating connections that would show these schools that I was the student that they needed to admit and possibly fund. I looked at the pages and edited feeling the truth in the statement that I produced and shared with admissions officers.

That graduate school preparation process meant that I had to count my contributions as meaningful; my thoughts as valid; my work as intentional and my contacts and placements as invaluable. Graduate school seems to be one place that all my world will collide and change for the better in many ways. I cannot wait for this experience to continue unfolding.

Meanings of things in 2010

I just came back from a great meet-up this evening. Its far too late to be up blogging, but I had some conversations today that made me spark and think, oh, when a door closes, another one opens. I have to say, since I started the year, things have been different, but not more so than in the world where we live in now.

I once penned a post you can find in these archives about what curiosity I had about having an email address in 1997, and that the ultimate excursion for me was to go to the cybercafe and wait the interminable minutes for each and every page to load, thanks to the B store owners for those dialup connections!

I remember writing also about what my mother has taught me about life in these very pages. You know what she recently taught me – how to live life outside of the virtual. We had a super convo about how people in our respective offices interact on Faceebook. Not such a generation gap after all.

I would be lying if I did not mention the best sporting moment of 2010 so far, apart from ‘Bama becoming the champions in Obamaland (kind of has an awesome ring to it) 2010 = seeing the Lakers play live at their home arena at the Staples Center, Can you say rush of everything, and got to see the Lakers overcome the Kings. Yowwza.

By 2010 – the year of the Tiger and the beginning of the decade of Africa. Things are great!

About the here and now: people are always afraid of what is different, so this year, can we refuse to let people get comfortable in fear.

Philadelphia

Never have I on PS shared where I spend most of my free time. When I am not asleep, I am in Philadelphia, truth is, I really like my ‘current city’. I want to say – this is my oozing adoration of things Philadelphia, just for you, future traveller.

Philadelphia, the city of brotherly love is like a mix of its big city neighbors, New York without the boroughs, and DC without the politicians. Roughly. While I wholly recommend you stop by the city, our tourism board is working harder to make sure you actually do take a trip here. gophila.com is one of the ways we love our city. While you are here, you HAVE to visit the Liberty Bell, and the Independence Mall. And maybe take a Duck tour of the city.

It is highly possible that you find yourself on a stopover from bus/train or air travel. Here are a few things that you should do if you have only four hours in Philadelphia.

- Take any of the two hourly trains into the Center City – Get off the train at Market East Station. Hello! You are in the Gallery – a downtown mall, where you can see shops, and Philadelphians.

- Right next to the Market East Station are the 2 things that you HAVE to try – the Liberty Bell (situated at the Independence National Historic Park(www.nps.gov/inde) , a bite at the Reading Terminal Market(www.readingterminalmarket.org).

Ever newsy in my recommendations, try www.philly.com for ‘anything and everything Philly’

Of course, check out the NYTimes 36 Hours in Philadelphia.

My personal favorite eatery?

Cuba Libre – http://www.cubalibrerestaurant.com/

Best Stroll and Shop?

South Street – http://www.southstreet.com/

Best Neighborhood You Want To Hang In?

Manyunk – http://www.manayunk.com/

Blogs on Philly You Have to Check Out

The Illadelph is a weblog about the city of Philadelphia… and all the ineffable awesomeness (and, unfortunately, awfulness) that comes with it.

Philly from the Inside Out  at Uwishunu http://www.uwishunu.com/

Of course, check out our shining team, the 2008 World Series champs – Go Phillies!

Barber To Beauty

“I have no problem with whatever the next big look is. Just don’t try and tell me that only one look is beautiful.”     Alek Wek

Hairstyle New, Stop Press! I went Alek Wek, June Arunga and thousands of other short natural haired women – and did not even know I loved it till I turned and saw it in the mirror. Welcome to my chronicle of the big day, and the days since. Barber Black Sheep, Have you any wool? …three bags full. After my first haircut ever, I can believe that the barber could fill three or more bags of cut locks daily without a doubt.

Its summer and everyone knows that if you want to have a swimming heavy summer, all you have to do is have a maintenance free hairstyle. Having heard this call to dive in every summer that I have spent in the United States, I took myself, and the weather seriously and sought a haircut.

The Yellow Pages is Your Friend

So, I went into the Yellow Pages and searched for a good natural hair place to change over from the shoulder length hairdo I have sported for many years to a summer haircut. I called a few numbers, old school style, and settled on two shops, one to tend to my natural hair needs and the other to maintain a barber quality do thereafter. I live in Philadelphia, whose swanky South Street boasts Brownstone Natural Hair and Barber Studio, which is well known for making every client feel like a natural woman, and look it too. If you would like to schedule an appointment, these are booked up to a month in advance. The Studio is owner operated, and my stylist was one of the owners.

I went in and had a hair consultation with the resident natural stylist, who proceeded to shampoo my hair, and then picked up a shiny set of very hair-shop style scissors and relieve me of several inches of my hair. All the while I was peeking at myself in the mirror with one eye shut, this was totally new. To distract myself, I looked at what else the other patrons were getting done. One or two were having their locs retwisted, and others were having different shades of color included in their hair. I could only hear the snip snip of his scissors transforming my hair – much coaxed into many styles since I was a child, into this new do! After he was done, I looked in the mirror and went over to show my snoozing companion what I now looked like. It was amazing, I could have sworn it was a totally different person. Not someone I had seen, ever, but definitely a more familiar version of myself.

Barbershop and Me

So I called my buddy who has had a few haircuts, and asked for the male perspective on hair cuttery in this city. My concerned friend was hesitant, having seen me pour $$$ into my tresses, multiple times and did I realize that barbers were male? Undeterred, I sought a recommendation. After all, if you liked the barber, shouldn’t one return there and recommend others?  After days of asking for the name of his barber, my now-harassed friend finally yielded.

I did not know it took so long to share – I was used to the world of salons, where your hairstyle getting noticed was homage to your hairdresser and an invitation to share the address and name of your stylist. Apparently, this was a different world.   A map search of this site and a phone call later, I was in the train headed to this little Center City shop, and had my first hair cut, ever. Well, the first ever sans tears for lost tresses.

I willingly admit no small amount of hesitation. “How short did I want to get a hair cut?” “What does a breeze on the scalp even feel like?” I was curious. I have been to ladies hair salons for eons, since I can remember. I recall having my hair pulled every which direction, and teased, straightened, braided, de-tangled, fused, woven – you name it. But rarely does one go into a ladies hair care place and emerge with significantly shorter hair than before.

D-Day

It was raining. The day of the second haircut, dubbed – “My very first haircut because it was done in a real barbershop”. I walked over to the shop and checked that the phone number on the door was the same one that I had used to call ahead and make an appointment. There was no taking chances.  I took a breath steeled myself, and walked in. It was smaller than my hair salon, minimally decorated and had excellent lighting. Still taking in the shop, I did not notice my new barber walk in right after I did. So shy was I.

He invited me to the chair. My mouth went dry, and the usually chatty me went silent for a little. I croaked my request. I said “Make it even!” All the while, I had I wondered inwardly, “What does one say to a barber, what kind of small talk do people in barbershops make?” Meanwhile, I silently hoped my time in the chair would end my utter puzzlement and get me to a better length and feel. Only later did I learn that there is a language about going to the Barbershop – like “Number 1, neat all round” which denotes a very close, neat shave.

In that moment, and that chair, I had not yet mastered Barbershop Slang – and was too focused on that moment. When had I ever sat so still in my life, just to be sure that I did not botch the cut, this time for myself.  I also looked at the brushes and shavers. It was hard to imagine what each one did. Would I ever get to know these tools as well as I did the tongs and dryers of my former life? I was not sure. If there were ever a more curious chica, it was me.

Half an hour and a healthy dose of WHYY public radio later, I had my new cut, and before I could say – hold the musk, the barber had sprayed some man-smelling hair spray all over my new do, stifling the wiles of my perfume. I was too stunned with my new look to notice this very much, and enjoyed paying the barber for this service. I hoped and waited and then, saw my face and head anew. I liked this.

Alek and company were not kidding. This is a great look, the compliments are flowing!

Ushahidi’s Erik Hersman