The Food Stamp Program (FSP) is our nation’s first defense against hunger. Like many programs for the poor, it comes under much scrutiny, especially when it seems that recipients are not using their benefits wisely. These are our tax dollars, people argue; we don’t this money wasted. The FSP, however, is very efficient and effective program, and it is a vital safety net for the poorest people in this country. Many myths about this program persist, though, so let’s set the record straight.
The Food Stamp Program increases food purchasing power of poor people. Participating households enjoy greater food and protein availability than eligible households who do not participate. Some studies show that participating households consume more vitamins and minerals, but the evidence for this is weaker (1).
It would be nice to think that people who receive food stamps purchase only healthy, wholesome foods. However, one of the benefits of this program is that it allows participants to make their own decisions about food. This independence is important for maintaining autonomy and dignity for poor families. Also, healthy foods like fruits and vegetables cost more than processed goods that are often high in sugar and fat. With the average monthly food stamp benefit hovering around $1 per meal for each person in the household, buying healthy food is challenging.
Half of all FSP participants are children. Eight percent are elderly. Around 16% of households who receive food stamps have at least one member who is disabled. Nearly all households who participate in the program live below the poverty line. Two out of five of these households earn incomes that reach less than half of the poverty line. The FSP average participant has countable resources (including bank accounts and non-excludable vehicles) totaling $137. Only U.S.citizens and some permanent residents are eligible (2).
What all these statistics mean is that food stamps are reaching the poorest people in our country, and those who are most vulnerable to food insecurity. With low incomes and few resources to fall back on, these households depend on food stamps to ensure that they can feed their families.
FSP benefits can only be used for food purchases. Benefits can not be used for cigarettes, alcohol, or pet foods. Te electronic benefit card, which has replaced the old paper stamps, creates an electronic record and reduced improper use of FSP benefits.
The FSP is more efficient than ever. Of households receiving food stamp benefits, 98% are eligible. And of all the errors reported in the FSP, two-thirds are the result of caseworker errors, not participant misinformation. The overwhelming majority of overpayments went to very poor households, and did not even push these families over the poverty line.
The Food Stamp Program ensures that the poorest households in our country can buy food. The program continues to improve in efficiency, and I hope that we use the 2007 Farm Bill as an opportunity to strengthen and expand this important safety net. We are one of the richest nations in the world, and we can certainly afford to help our poorest citizens buy the food they need.
Soures:
1. Fox, Mary K., William Hamilton, and Biing-Hwan Lin. ""Effects of Food Assistance and Nutrition Programs on Nutrition and Health: Executive Summary of the Literature Review, Volume 4". Food Assistance and Nutrition Research Report, No. (FANRR 1904). December 20042. "Characteristics of Food Stamp Households, Fiscal Year 2005." Food and Nutrtion Services, Office of Analysis, Nutrition and Evaluation. Sept. 20063. "GAO Finds Food Stamp Program Improving." http://harkin.senate.gov/news.cfm?id=237281
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Why I'm Obsessed with the Farm Bill
Why the Farm Bill?
If you had the chance to reduce hunger in the U.S., strengthen rural communities, and help farmers in the developing world, wouldn’t you take it? In fact, we have just such an opportunity this year. One mammoth piece of legislation heavily impacts all three of these areas, and it is renewed just once every five years. Let me introduce (drumroll, please)… the Farm Bill!
U.S. Hunger and the Farm Bill
The largest expenditure in the Farm Bill, by far, is the nutrition program. Ninety-five percent of this goes to the Food Stamp program, our nation’s first defense against hunger. Food stamps allow low-income families and individuals to buy nutritious food. Food stamps are also an essential safety net for households who experience natural disasters. After the Katrina and Wilma hurricanes, 4 million additional families used food stamps to avoid hunger.
In our country today, 11.4% of households are hungry or at risk of hunger. This means that, while they are not dying of starvation, there are days when they skip meals because they cannot afford to buy food. The Food Stamp Program helps to combat hunger, but it does not do enough. Half of the households who receive food stamps still report hunger. Perhaps this is because the average monthly Food Stamp benefit per participant equals $92.72, or $1.03 per meal!
Bread for the World wants to increase benefits and participation in the Food Stamp Program, as well as provide incentives for the purchase of fruits and vegetables. This is a great opportunity to improve the food security and nutrition for poor people in this country.
Rural Communities in America
When you think of rural America, do you picture farmers? Today, 50 million Americans live in rural communities; only 3 million of them are farmers. Many rural communities are struggling to keep up with the changing economy. The poverty rate in rural America is 14%, and the child hunger rate is a horrifying 20%! If we want to address rural poverty, we must examine the whole picture.
In the last Farm Bill, only 3% of the budget went to rural development. Bread for the World is asking for an increase in this budget, to allow for local incentives to revitalize rural towns, to provide resources and incentives for rural entrepreneurs, and to increase telecommunications and Internet access in rural areas.
While rural development got only a sliver of the pie, 21% of the last Farm Bill budget went to commodity payments for farmers. The wealthiest 10% of farmers received 66% of the payments. In other words, most of the money went to the farmers who needed the least! Bread is asking that the commodity payment program be more efficient, so that government support can go to those who need it most.
Farmers in Developing Countries
The vast majority of the world’s poor and hungry people work in farming. Our commodity payment program hurts them when the world agricultural market is flooded with cheap American crops. Our commodity payment program pays farmers based on how much they produce, encouraging them to produce more than the market demands. Farmers in developing countries cannot compete with these artificially low prices for agricultural products and often cannot make a living anymore from their farms.
Our trade-distorting commodity payment program is ruining the livelihoods of many farmers in the developing world. Bread for the World wants to reform this program in the next Farm Bill, so that we help the American farmers who are struggling instead of encouraging the largest commercial farms to overproduce. This, in turn, would allow farmers in the developing world to earn a living. It’s a win-win situation!
The 2007 Farm Bill has great potential to reduce hunger and poverty both in the U.S. and internationally. People and organizations from across the political spectrum, from Oxfam to the Cato Institute, are working together to revise this legislation. Whether you are a long-time activist or this is your first introduction to hunger and trade issues, the 2007 Farm Bill promises to be an exciting opportunity to impact hunger and poverty worldwide.
If you had the chance to reduce hunger in the U.S., strengthen rural communities, and help farmers in the developing world, wouldn’t you take it? In fact, we have just such an opportunity this year. One mammoth piece of legislation heavily impacts all three of these areas, and it is renewed just once every five years. Let me introduce (drumroll, please)… the Farm Bill!
U.S. Hunger and the Farm Bill
The largest expenditure in the Farm Bill, by far, is the nutrition program. Ninety-five percent of this goes to the Food Stamp program, our nation’s first defense against hunger. Food stamps allow low-income families and individuals to buy nutritious food. Food stamps are also an essential safety net for households who experience natural disasters. After the Katrina and Wilma hurricanes, 4 million additional families used food stamps to avoid hunger.
In our country today, 11.4% of households are hungry or at risk of hunger. This means that, while they are not dying of starvation, there are days when they skip meals because they cannot afford to buy food. The Food Stamp Program helps to combat hunger, but it does not do enough. Half of the households who receive food stamps still report hunger. Perhaps this is because the average monthly Food Stamp benefit per participant equals $92.72, or $1.03 per meal!
Bread for the World wants to increase benefits and participation in the Food Stamp Program, as well as provide incentives for the purchase of fruits and vegetables. This is a great opportunity to improve the food security and nutrition for poor people in this country.
Rural Communities in America
When you think of rural America, do you picture farmers? Today, 50 million Americans live in rural communities; only 3 million of them are farmers. Many rural communities are struggling to keep up with the changing economy. The poverty rate in rural America is 14%, and the child hunger rate is a horrifying 20%! If we want to address rural poverty, we must examine the whole picture.
In the last Farm Bill, only 3% of the budget went to rural development. Bread for the World is asking for an increase in this budget, to allow for local incentives to revitalize rural towns, to provide resources and incentives for rural entrepreneurs, and to increase telecommunications and Internet access in rural areas.
While rural development got only a sliver of the pie, 21% of the last Farm Bill budget went to commodity payments for farmers. The wealthiest 10% of farmers received 66% of the payments. In other words, most of the money went to the farmers who needed the least! Bread is asking that the commodity payment program be more efficient, so that government support can go to those who need it most.
Farmers in Developing Countries
The vast majority of the world’s poor and hungry people work in farming. Our commodity payment program hurts them when the world agricultural market is flooded with cheap American crops. Our commodity payment program pays farmers based on how much they produce, encouraging them to produce more than the market demands. Farmers in developing countries cannot compete with these artificially low prices for agricultural products and often cannot make a living anymore from their farms.
Our trade-distorting commodity payment program is ruining the livelihoods of many farmers in the developing world. Bread for the World wants to reform this program in the next Farm Bill, so that we help the American farmers who are struggling instead of encouraging the largest commercial farms to overproduce. This, in turn, would allow farmers in the developing world to earn a living. It’s a win-win situation!
The 2007 Farm Bill has great potential to reduce hunger and poverty both in the U.S. and internationally. People and organizations from across the political spectrum, from Oxfam to the Cato Institute, are working together to revise this legislation. Whether you are a long-time activist or this is your first introduction to hunger and trade issues, the 2007 Farm Bill promises to be an exciting opportunity to impact hunger and poverty worldwide.
Thursday, January 4, 2007
Noise Pollution
As I walked to work on Friday, I noticed that about half the people I passed had earphones in. The other half, it seemed, were talking on their cells. When I get home, I can always tell before I finish climbing the stairs to our apartment if my roommate is back yet, since she inevitably the TV on. I say I like to run to clear my mind, but I get bored after a few minutes without my iPod. Do we ever have the peace and quiet to think anymore?
In one of my psych classes in college, I read a study about how people concentrate. The most outgoing people concentrate better with mild background noise, the authors found, while more introverted folks worked better in silent environments. The researchers attributed this to the differnces in poeple's ideal excitement levels. Extroverts function best with higher levels of stimulation, while the opposite is true for the shy bunch.
I would place myself right in the middle of the introvert/extrovert spectrum. I definitely prefer silence when I'm writing papers. Or my blog. I can't stand when my coworkers send me on errands or ask me to process forms for them when I'm trying to write a new entry. Reading, though, is a different story. In sixth grade, I once mumbled "Just a sec" to my teacher when she tried to interrupt me from The Hobbit to ask me to answer a math problem on the board. Two days ago, the cashier at Au Bon Pain had to tap my shoulder to remove my from Kate Atkinson's latest mystery to let me know I needed to exit the premises - because the fire alarm was going off. Whether that proves that I belong in the mixed intro/extrovert category, or I just can't process two things at once, I'm not sure.
On a more serious note, however, society is getting louder. People are constantly talking, even when alone, thanks to cell phones. Car alarms go off for hours. (Don't you always hope, deep down, that their car does indeed get stolen, after all that noise?) Cubicles don't really block out much noise, so phone conversations reverberate throughout the office vicinity.
Maybe we're all used to so much stimulation that silence for any extended period of time makes us panic that we're wasting time. For the first moment out of the office, I am thrilled to hear nothing. By the time I've walked past the second traffic light, though, I am reaching for my phone so I can catch up on calls as I walk home.
I might be thinking deep thoughts as I ride the metro if I couldn't always hear leaking music from someone's earphones. I might have figured out what I want to do about my lame job if I spent my walk home considering what's important to me, not immediately calling friends to plan the night's activities. I'd probably figure out a better ending to this blog post if my roommate hadn't started playing music in her room. I guess if I need to think today, I will just go for a run. With my iPod.
In one of my psych classes in college, I read a study about how people concentrate. The most outgoing people concentrate better with mild background noise, the authors found, while more introverted folks worked better in silent environments. The researchers attributed this to the differnces in poeple's ideal excitement levels. Extroverts function best with higher levels of stimulation, while the opposite is true for the shy bunch.
I would place myself right in the middle of the introvert/extrovert spectrum. I definitely prefer silence when I'm writing papers. Or my blog. I can't stand when my coworkers send me on errands or ask me to process forms for them when I'm trying to write a new entry. Reading, though, is a different story. In sixth grade, I once mumbled "Just a sec" to my teacher when she tried to interrupt me from The Hobbit to ask me to answer a math problem on the board. Two days ago, the cashier at Au Bon Pain had to tap my shoulder to remove my from Kate Atkinson's latest mystery to let me know I needed to exit the premises - because the fire alarm was going off. Whether that proves that I belong in the mixed intro/extrovert category, or I just can't process two things at once, I'm not sure.
On a more serious note, however, society is getting louder. People are constantly talking, even when alone, thanks to cell phones. Car alarms go off for hours. (Don't you always hope, deep down, that their car does indeed get stolen, after all that noise?) Cubicles don't really block out much noise, so phone conversations reverberate throughout the office vicinity.
Maybe we're all used to so much stimulation that silence for any extended period of time makes us panic that we're wasting time. For the first moment out of the office, I am thrilled to hear nothing. By the time I've walked past the second traffic light, though, I am reaching for my phone so I can catch up on calls as I walk home.
I might be thinking deep thoughts as I ride the metro if I couldn't always hear leaking music from someone's earphones. I might have figured out what I want to do about my lame job if I spent my walk home considering what's important to me, not immediately calling friends to plan the night's activities. I'd probably figure out a better ending to this blog post if my roommate hadn't started playing music in her room. I guess if I need to think today, I will just go for a run. With my iPod.
Tuesday, January 2, 2007
Cell Phone Woes
Cell phones are supposed to make everything easier. You can call for directions on the road, you can let your friends know en route that you're running late, and you can find people in crowds via text messages. This is all wonderful, and I am very grateful for my little Nokia - I really am. I would just like to point out a few flaws in the mobile communications culture that has emerged.
First of all, no one sticks to a plan anymore. Back in the early days of high school, we used to decide two things in advance: where to meet, and what time. And then, we'd actually do that. Sure, some people are meticulously on-time and others perpetually run ten minutes behind schedule, and then there's me, who inevitably gets lost somewhere along the way. Generally, though, we assembled where and when we said we would, and life was peachy.
Today, it's a sign of weakness to plan. "Oh, I'll just give you a call when I see where I am," you say airily to your friends. If you want your crew to meet up on Saturday, you can't pick a bar, or even approximate a meeting time in advance. You all have cell phones! When you all figure out where you are when the time comes to meet, you make five calls, send seven text messages, and can mouthe along with your friend's voicemail greetings before you all figure out how to end up in the same pub. "What did we ever do without cell phones?" you all ask, as you gratefully grab your beers and slip, exhausted, into your boothe. "This is so much easier!"
Second of all, my friends couldn't call after 10 PM back in the olden times of land lines. My dad would get on the phone, even if I'd picked it up after the first ring, and firmly tell the terrified caller, "This is too late for phone calls. Please do not call again at this hour." I was mortified, of course, but it was amazingly effective. Today, friends think nothing of calling me at 1:30 on weeknights or texting "Are you still up?" (well, after the text message beep, I am) at 1 AM on Saturdays.
Sure, I'm usually still awake. But unless we've made plans to talk or go out, post-10 time is Miriam Time. If I'm not out, I'm probably watching the Daily Show, reading a mystery, or eating ice cream with my roommate. Unless I can start remembering to turn my phone on silent at night, I might have to start (gasp!) actually telling my friends not to call me so late.
Finally, there's the whole errand error. I have lots of friends who like to call me as they're heading to the grocery store, picking up packages, or walking home. Fine. I like to use my time efficiently, too. I don't want to talk to you, though, if you're only listening to every other sentense I say because you're also talking to the cashier as you buy your veggies. I don't want to talk to you as you try to argue with the post office over when that package was sent. And I definitely don't want to talk to you as you walk down a noisy street, asking me to repeat everything I say that happens to coincide with a bus or truck passing by.
Way back when, I used to talk to my friends from my comfy chair under the phone in my bedroom. We even had phone cords that kept us in the same area throughout the phone call. We even heard each other throughout the conversation, and never lost reception halfway through a good story. And I never fell asleep halfway through the talk, because they couldn't call past my bedtime in the first place.
I'm just as grateful as the next person for the ability to call when lost or late (okay, probably more grateful, since both of those apply to me so often), but I think cell phones have changed this generation's ability to plan and focus. Worst of all, I don't have anyone's number memorized anymore. If my cell phone broke, I don't know how I'd survive.
First of all, no one sticks to a plan anymore. Back in the early days of high school, we used to decide two things in advance: where to meet, and what time. And then, we'd actually do that. Sure, some people are meticulously on-time and others perpetually run ten minutes behind schedule, and then there's me, who inevitably gets lost somewhere along the way. Generally, though, we assembled where and when we said we would, and life was peachy.
Today, it's a sign of weakness to plan. "Oh, I'll just give you a call when I see where I am," you say airily to your friends. If you want your crew to meet up on Saturday, you can't pick a bar, or even approximate a meeting time in advance. You all have cell phones! When you all figure out where you are when the time comes to meet, you make five calls, send seven text messages, and can mouthe along with your friend's voicemail greetings before you all figure out how to end up in the same pub. "What did we ever do without cell phones?" you all ask, as you gratefully grab your beers and slip, exhausted, into your boothe. "This is so much easier!"
Second of all, my friends couldn't call after 10 PM back in the olden times of land lines. My dad would get on the phone, even if I'd picked it up after the first ring, and firmly tell the terrified caller, "This is too late for phone calls. Please do not call again at this hour." I was mortified, of course, but it was amazingly effective. Today, friends think nothing of calling me at 1:30 on weeknights or texting "Are you still up?" (well, after the text message beep, I am) at 1 AM on Saturdays.
Sure, I'm usually still awake. But unless we've made plans to talk or go out, post-10 time is Miriam Time. If I'm not out, I'm probably watching the Daily Show, reading a mystery, or eating ice cream with my roommate. Unless I can start remembering to turn my phone on silent at night, I might have to start (gasp!) actually telling my friends not to call me so late.
Finally, there's the whole errand error. I have lots of friends who like to call me as they're heading to the grocery store, picking up packages, or walking home. Fine. I like to use my time efficiently, too. I don't want to talk to you, though, if you're only listening to every other sentense I say because you're also talking to the cashier as you buy your veggies. I don't want to talk to you as you try to argue with the post office over when that package was sent. And I definitely don't want to talk to you as you walk down a noisy street, asking me to repeat everything I say that happens to coincide with a bus or truck passing by.
Way back when, I used to talk to my friends from my comfy chair under the phone in my bedroom. We even had phone cords that kept us in the same area throughout the phone call. We even heard each other throughout the conversation, and never lost reception halfway through a good story. And I never fell asleep halfway through the talk, because they couldn't call past my bedtime in the first place.
I'm just as grateful as the next person for the ability to call when lost or late (okay, probably more grateful, since both of those apply to me so often), but I think cell phones have changed this generation's ability to plan and focus. Worst of all, I don't have anyone's number memorized anymore. If my cell phone broke, I don't know how I'd survive.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Reprehensible Refrains
If I ruled the world, I would ban certain expressions. "Because I said so" never convinced any kid to do anything, and never actually ends the discussion. "But WHY?" always follows, so you might as well start with a better answer.
"If so-and-so told you to jump off a bridge, would you jump?" should not be applied to situations that are not analogous. You wouldn't dive off the Golden Gate on your boss's orders, but I bet you'd make extra copies if she said so.
"Life's not fair." This was definitely a favorite of my parents, as I always let them know immediately if my brother had gotten a bigger cookie, was sitting in the window seat after I'd called it, or was slacking off on dishwashing duty. I knew life wasn't fair, and their response only intensified my desire for these greivous wrongs to be righted.
"I'll tell you when you're older." No, you won't! By the time the kid is old enough to hear the secret, you'll have long forgotten what it was. I'm still waiting for older cousins, babysitters, and a few of my teachers to confess all that delicious gossip they once promised me.
For all of you out there who are thinking, "Just wait til you have kids," don't. I've done my share of child care and teaching, and no matter the temptation, I've never used a single one of these. I have two solutions, so babysitters and parents everywhere, listen up.
First, your face won't freeze when you scrunch it up. Nor will you damage your tongue if you stick it out and try to touch your nose. Can you cross your eyes? Sit in the lotus position? Stupid human tricks are always good distractions, and the kids will probably forget what they were arguing about in their eagerness to imitate you.
Second, lie a little. "You can't climb to the top of the slide because the wicked witch of the playground might grab you! She only likes little boys in blue shirts. Look, she's coming. Runnnnn!" Or, "Mike's piece of cake is bigger, but yours has more icing. You'd better eat it before he sees!" Honesty is not always the best policy. Remember when I said I'd never used any of those expressions? I did. But I won't, ever again. And you shouldn't either... because I said so.
"If so-and-so told you to jump off a bridge, would you jump?" should not be applied to situations that are not analogous. You wouldn't dive off the Golden Gate on your boss's orders, but I bet you'd make extra copies if she said so.
"Life's not fair." This was definitely a favorite of my parents, as I always let them know immediately if my brother had gotten a bigger cookie, was sitting in the window seat after I'd called it, or was slacking off on dishwashing duty. I knew life wasn't fair, and their response only intensified my desire for these greivous wrongs to be righted.
"I'll tell you when you're older." No, you won't! By the time the kid is old enough to hear the secret, you'll have long forgotten what it was. I'm still waiting for older cousins, babysitters, and a few of my teachers to confess all that delicious gossip they once promised me.
For all of you out there who are thinking, "Just wait til you have kids," don't. I've done my share of child care and teaching, and no matter the temptation, I've never used a single one of these. I have two solutions, so babysitters and parents everywhere, listen up.
First, your face won't freeze when you scrunch it up. Nor will you damage your tongue if you stick it out and try to touch your nose. Can you cross your eyes? Sit in the lotus position? Stupid human tricks are always good distractions, and the kids will probably forget what they were arguing about in their eagerness to imitate you.
Second, lie a little. "You can't climb to the top of the slide because the wicked witch of the playground might grab you! She only likes little boys in blue shirts. Look, she's coming. Runnnnn!" Or, "Mike's piece of cake is bigger, but yours has more icing. You'd better eat it before he sees!" Honesty is not always the best policy. Remember when I said I'd never used any of those expressions? I did. But I won't, ever again. And you shouldn't either... because I said so.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
When I Grow Up
When I was a kid, I pictured the working world as a land populated by tall adults power-walking through city streets, drinking from tall to-go cups of Starbucks. I never quite pictured their day after the morning commute, probably because I never gave much thought to office-based careers.
At age five, I wanted to grow up to be a plumber. Richard, our jolly, bearded savior, would arrive at our house immediately following any disaster involving pipes, sinks, bathrooms, and parental distress. He would rub his hands together, harrumph briefly, and then kneel before the imposing metal structures. My parents would usher me away, and when Richard re-emerged, the pipes/sink/bathroom would be working just fine again. Amazing!
Two years later, I was a vociferous Boxcar Children reader and had long abandoned my plumbing plans. Any sedentary activity provided an opportunity for my ostentatious literary pursuits. I proudly toted my oh-so-impressive chapter books to school, the doctor's office, restaurants, and explained to enquiring adults that I would be a librarian when I grew up so that I could read all day.
Instead, I ended up in a gray cubicle, chomping dark blue Extra gum and blogging most of the day. I fill out expense reports, charge projects to the correct funds, and fax and file with the best of 'em. I also google-search law schools and public policy programs, interrogate friends who work on the Hill, and dream about publishing my short stories.
In seventh grade, I aspired to be a writer, but by ninth gradeI began to question the appeal of such solitary pursuits. My high school years, a blur of gymnastics practices, awkward dances, and frantic lunchtime reading of Sparknotes, yielded no new insights on the future beyond the immediate goal of college.
College, though, ushered in a plethora of potential futures , and my ever-increasing caffeine consumption ensured many sleepless nights to ponder these possibilities. A freshman year course on media and politics re-sparked my journalistic interest, only to be overshadowed by a class on the public health crisis and a new dream to live in turquoise scrubs and spread joy through hospitals. A few nights later, as I lay awake staring at the ceiling, the thought occured to me that life as a nurse might be difficult, given my debilitating fear of blood. Cross another career off the list.
I rallied, though, when I met Professor Hayden. As he stood behind the podium, regaling my Psych 33 class with tales of patients he'd helped, I began to see myself as a caring, thoughtful therapist. A five-year-old boy so obsessed with washing his hands that he could not play with other children, a woman convinced she was Cleopatra, a bipolar man who refused to take his pills - Hayden lead all of these patients, through behavioral training, introspection, and medication, to lead productive and healthy lives. He saw potential where others saw crazy; he saw options where others saw hopeless. I pored over my Abnormal Psychology textbook, and analyzed my friends' compulsions and coping mechanisms. Another sleepless night, I decided I was more interested in politics than listening to people's problems, and switched my major, and new life goals, to political science.
Today, office life is nothing like I ever imagined. Last week, we had the Great Cookie Exchange, a potluck of delectible high-carb concoctions. Today, I came in at 10 and then spent half an hour discussing Bebe's return policy with my friend Danielle. Tomorrow, I will probably read the Onion and take a two hour lunch break. Your first job is a learning experience, people tell me. They're wrong. All I'm learning is to look busy when I'm really researching local Happy Hour specials, to entertain myself for hours with Hookedonfacts.com, and to go MIA when stressed coworkers are overheard saying anything suspiciously close to "fax" or "copy." Is this what I meant to do with life? Not even close.
This Christmas, though, I had an epiphany. My mom gave me a thick text entitled "1001 Books to Read Before You Die," and I started checking off those I had already completed. These works were few and far between, and for a moment I felt guilty. I skipped most of the assigned reading in high school, took no literature-intensive classes in college, and I have a tendency to read and re-read the third Harry Potter in my free time. As I considered all of the thick, grown-up books I have ahead of me, though, I suddenly felt better. I don't want to be finished all the books I intend to read - I'm only 22!
Similary, my job is not exciting, not challenging, and my maturity probably regresses each hour I pass in this cubicle. I'd be more worried, though, if I had already answered the question, "What do you want to do when you grow up?" Since I don't know, I must not be a real adult yet. This means that possibilities are still open, that the best is yet to come, and that I'll probably be reading Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban under my desk tomorrow.
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