I'm Done! (Essentially)

Dearest internet, I'm sorry it's been so long. You see, tomorrow is my final day as an AmeriCorps*VISTA. Today I packed up my office, organized my desk and my files, and took my most important origami dinosaur with me. I ate my final PB&J at work (let's be honest, there are still many PB&J left in my life), wrote my final, but brief, VISTA report, and wrote a "Welcome to your desk!" letter to my replacement, because I'm a dork.

It's weird to think that just a year ago, I moved down here to start this year, all bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to combat poverty and take on the world. I've become a little more of a realist, acknowledging that poverty is not solved in a year and there are a multitude of contributing factors to its existence. When I begin to worry that I haven't accomplished all that much, I take a look at my resume, which assures me that I won over $120,000 in funding for nonprofits this year. It assures me that I created a sustainable system for tracking funding prospects this past year, that I began implementing two planned giving campaigns, that I worked with a particularly complicated board of directors, and that I learned much more in one short year than many people do in entry-level development jobs that last three to five years.

My routine will change. Oh goodness, and we all know how I love routines. I get to start looking for glamorous part-time work soon (get pumped, local grocery stores, coffee shops and bookstores! Maybe I should work for a wine distributor) to have some semblance of income while I continue the job hunt. It's one of those things... while I'm sad to be leaving and nostalgia is hitting me like a brick wall, it's time to move on. One year at the poverty level is more than enough. I did what I could at the office, but I had done all I could. As I was packing up the office in my various reusable grocery bags (it's all I had in my car. Stop judging!), it finally sunk in that I was finished at my first job. My first job out of college - I finished it, and I rocked it. It started me on a career path that I am not only hopeful for, I'm excited about. I do love writing proposals, and development work is something I hope to perfect. Perhaps not every aspect, but ... private and corporate funding? We'll see. I still have one more day (of direct service. Yayyyyy painting!).

I have received a few inquiries as to what will happen to the blog post-VISTA, and for now all I can tell you is that I'll at least be writing until I find something full-time. I'll take it from there. Don't you worry, many tales of the job hunt are still to come. Do you know what's exciting, though? That education award I get from VISTA soon! Take that, student loan people!

postscript: I had an interview on Monday. I was equally as sweaty. I'll blame DC's awful humidity. Details to come only if I land that job.
(Image cred, again, to the fabulous Natalie Dee)

Messing With a Broke-Broke.

Yes. Mr. Merlot is being a gold digger again.

I... I don't even know where to begin. I treat him with love and respect. I get him oil changes every 3,000 miles. I offer him emotional support ("C'mon Mr. Merlot, you can make it up this hill!"). I waxed and vacuumed him the other week, I even bought him a new T for his front when I was visiting my folks recently. And yet, he's never satisfied. When I first got him, he became all worked up about needing a new catalytic converter. I sighed, wrote the check, died a little bit inside for my checking account, and he was happy. I also bought him a brand new battery. Now, ten months later, he's wanting more. Kids these days - they're never satisfied with anything.

Yesterday, it took a few tries to turn him over to A) get to work B) leave work and C) get home from Dick's Sporting Goods. (At least he got me home and didn't leave me near a sporting goods store) When I went to go to work this morning, taking separate cars from OfficeMate because I had to come home in the afternoon for a phone interview, all Mr. Merlot would do was click. No turning over. Click. Click. Click. Every click was another hairline fracture to my heart.

So he was left at home, and we carpooled in. After coming back and then having my phone interview (I honestly do despise interviews. The whole process makes me unfathomably nervous. Just take my word for it, I'd be a good fit for the position!), we went out to see what we could do for that car. We tried jumper cables, to no avail. I called my on-call mechanic (Hi, Dad!) for phone support who walked me through some things (I now know where my starter is located), and we've deduced that Mr. Merlot needs a new starter.

Do you hear that sound? That's the sound of my wallet wailing. I haven't gone to the dentist in like two or three years, but my CAR needs more money put into him. Absolutely, that makes sense. I guess Mr. Merlot was feeling left out because OfficeMate's car got a new battery this weekend, and Mr. Merlot wanted something new, too. Goodness, he's always needing to be the center of attention. For the next few days, I shall be chauffeured around by OfficeMate to and from the office. I'm moving up the social ladder in Roanoke - I don't even have to drive myself around.

In other news, not related to my complaining about my Gold Digger of a vehicle, I did in fact have a phone interview today. This means that I have done something right in the world of job hunting, and hopefully will empower me to keep on keeping on in this department.

Also, as many of you read on the Book of Faces, I have indeed surpassed the $100,000 mark in my grant revenue. I recently found out that two proposals I assisted in writing back in February ended up winning $93,000, so that puts my grand total over the $120,000 mark. I feel so legit! You better believe I worked that into today's interview.

Life Lessons: Internet, Poverty, Roanoke

Dearest Blog, how I have seemingly neglected you. Let me explain!

Last week, there were some crazy storms in these parts. When our internet began to get temperamental, I wasn't completely surprised. Phone lines were down throughout the valley, and we didn't even have internet at the office last Friday. Then the internet started just... not existing in the apartment. OfficeMate being cursed with being tech savvy was plagued with my unending questions: "Can you make the internet work??" "Why is the internet down?" "THE FOURTH LIGHT ON THE MODEM STILL ISN'T BLINKING. YOU SAID THAT MEANT NO INTERNET STILL. WHAT'S GOING ON?" I generally was told the internet was down, to be patient, and "You have internet on your phone."

Internet on my phone is all well and good, but I can't blog on my phone. I can't apply for jobs on my phone. Google reader on the iPhone is far from fantastic. First world problems are hard.

At the moment, our internet is still down (kind of). The cable in our living room just doesn't want to work, and the one in OfficeMate's room is connected to it. The one in my room, however, just mysteriously appears out of the wall and is seemingly connected to the outdoors (or the guy-below-me-who-I-can-hear-snore). So at the moment the modem is plugged in my room, stretched across my bed to the lone plug in here, with an ethernet cable to get this 2004 piece of machinery on these crazy intertubes.

I digress. It is now June. I have slightly over two months left in my AmeriCorps tenure. I'm legitimately qualified for these jobs I've been applying to. I've begun wondering if I need to start thinking about moving out things I'm not using anymore (winter sweaters, coats, boots, etc). While on one hand, I wonder where the time went and I become all nostalgic for the valley, I am very much ready to continue on to the next phase of my life. Roanoke has been amazing to me (other than having my money stolen, moving three times, losing my computer to a ghetto apartment building, having my car get hit, just to name a few), and Lord knows I'll miss these mountains, but it's time.

I've learned so much this year. I've learned how to stretch a dollar. I've learned how to get by on next to nothing without the assistance of food stamps or handouts (One can absolutely get by on minimum wage in this valley without food stamps. Anyone who tells you otherwise is buying things they do not need). I've learned how to cook so many more things. I've learned how to fill my tires with air (don't mock, I never had a car with tires to fill with air before). I've learned how to write a grant proposal, do development work, look for foundations. I've learned to appreciate the silence and slow nature of my life rather than get antsy about having nothing to do. Well, actually, that one I'm still in the learning process. Just today I learned that a cable splitter can go bad!

But I've also learned that, while I can get by on less than minimum wage, I'd rather not anymore. I miss simple things like a new pair of shoes. I've worn out my clothing since I've moved, since I've bought almost nothing new since I moved and laundromats are eating my unmentionables. I want to be able to buy a new computer when one gets leaked on, without having to worry about financial repercussions. I want to be able to afford rent somewhere other than where the shirtless, seemingly unemployed guy sits outside on his folding chair with his dog and cigarette in the midst of racial slurs and shotgun-toting neighbors. I want to be able to get groceries and an oil change in the same day and not cringe at the thought of my checking account suffering as a result.

My life is not glamorous. I'm not saying it's tough, because honestly, it comes down to creative budgeting and nothing more. I'm not a math whiz, I'm just smart enough to know how much I need to get by. But it gets old, and it gets old FAST. And I didn't go to college to have to be creative with my budgeting, I went to college to get myself a job that allows me to be creative in the office so I don't have to be with my checkbook. I'd rather spend my time at exhibits, concerts or productions than at home crunching numbers or, brace yourself, on the sofa doing sudokus because that's free. I'm just ready to live the life that the rest of my peers have been living for a year. And if you guys haven't been living that life, then stop making it look like you did on facebook! (Facebook creeping is also free) I'm just ready to take what I've learned, and continue on with the rest of my life.Roanoke is a chapter, not the end.

Travels, Nonprofit Rambles, and ... I miss my kitchen.

Charleston was lovely and sunny and the perfect place for me to go. Driving back, I encountered a fair amount of traffic, allowing my weekend total of hours with Mr. Merlot to hover around the 16 range. I know I say I love my car, but goodness. Enough is enough. Wait Wait Don't Tell Me podcasts and gorgeous sunsets as I approached the mountains made up for it, though. Enjoy this photo of radiant South Carolina.... or, the French place Brother and I got brunch at before my departure on Sunday. Don't mind Brother's awkward stance.

Upon my return to the office Monday morning, I learned that our client with whom I had dedicated much time to would not be renewing their contract with us for another year. There are an array of reasons why this makes perfect sense for both us and them, but I couldn't help feeling slightly glum. Their Executive Director is a phenomenal woman with nothing but dedication to her job, and I'll miss working with such a great person. It feels oddly like a break up, though. Coworkers have approached me asking to return things to this client, others come up and ask, "Is it true??" Let's just make it facebook official already.

I now, though, have more time to focus on raising funds for our office, something that is definitely needed. One of the caveats of being a 501(c)3 which offers fundraising services to other nonprofits is that it gets awfully complicated to factor in time and resources to raise your own funds. I've gotten incredibly used to writing grant proposals for underprivileged children with an educational focus, and now I have to shift that focus completely. This is good, though. I've already begun a draft for a contract with a new client, and the change in material is so very welcome.

I've already learned so much at this job, and while I know I have so much more to absorb regarding the nonprofit world and development in general, these are all things that I never could have learned in the classroom. Years of analytical papers regarding the Helsinki Accords and international theorists was all for naught. Don't get me wrong - I'm all for higher education, but it's amazing how many things you can't learn from a textbook or a scantron.

That was very work-related. I could also write about the delicious duck confit corn hash I had this weekend, or my mussels, or the foie gras ... but that would just prove that I had a fat French kid's weekend with Brother. Although, good Lord, I missed fat kid French food something fierce. It's good to have it back in my arteries. Sometimes I wish I could've done AmeriCorps in France. (Yes, I know that wouldn't work for so many reasons...)

I haven't legitimately cooked in a while. Sure, some quiches here, some generic chicken dish there, but once I'm done with these ridiculous travels, I'm getting myself back to trying more exciting things. I have a ton of pork chops in my freezer, and suggestions are welcome!

Blogging Past My Bedtime

I apologize for my apparent leave of absence. I wasn't aware one was really being taken until I realized just how long it'd been since I sat down in front of Maccy. Somehow, it is almost midnight between Wednesday and Thursday, and I find myself wondering where on earth this week went.

My workshop in Charlottesville was incredible; it was exactly what I needed. I had been getting frustrated with myself for not winning grants, and not knowing what to do about it. I now not only have suggestions on where to look for grants, but how to properly construct a proposal, along with all the other fantastic nuances that go with them. Overall, a very useful, very productive two day workshop.

Seeing my friend from college was excellent. However, since I have morphed into an old lady since coming to Roanoke, I am still feeling the repercussions of staying up past 11pm. Socializing and going out, however, I found to be things I genuinely miss. I miss moderately large groups of people my age... socializing. It's such a seemingly basic request, and yet Roanoke has trouble delivering.

It's too late for proper posting. I promise something better in the near future. Maybe something about networking, or the upcoming job hunt. Get excited! I'm going to say goodnight before the incoherence does more damage.

My First Grant

The Grant
This entry title is a slight misnomer... I have yet to actually complete my first grant. However, I have completed versions 1,2,3,4,5 and 6. Unsatisfactory versions in between versions 1-6 were trashed. Tomorrow will inevitably bring more versions, but by Friday at 5pm, those versions will be inconsequential.

Today is important, because I have completed all the aspects required of me on the application, regardless of how terribly written or what glaring grammatical errors may still be left.

This grant and I... I noticed him from across a smoky bar known as the internet and he quickly gave me his digits. As I've gotten to know him, I learned how much money he had, how much I could ask of him. I learned what he expected of me (he wants it all on paper) and I learned he had a deadline. There are others out there vying for his attention (and money), and I had a deadline to impress him by.

Commence freak out. Commence overreaction. Commence stress.

I have never written a grant before. Now, I legitimately enjoy writing. But this wasn't my opinion of Henrik Ibsen* for a professor to glaze over and throw in a pile. This was asking for money so underprivileged children could have access to educational software. If I messed this up, there were larger, more implicit, ramifications than subtle drop in my GPA.

I brought it home this past weekend. Yes, the grant and I were getting serious. Sadly, I left him ignored in a pile on the floor and kicked my shoes over him until Monday night. Monday night I spent a handful of hours organizing my thoughts, kicking my five year-old MacBook for not being more responsive, and trying to plot out the best argument for this nonprofit. By the time I came in to work on Tuesday, I was unsatisfied with my work.

My Supervisor (new Supervisor, not Britannica) was a Godsend today. She is graciously and patiently explaining some of the most basic concepts to me and beating me over the head with the reminder "to not reinvent the wheel." I stayed late at the office today, cranking this grant out. I am determined to give myself at least one full day of edits before submitting it.

Hopefully, I'll win this thing.

Alone at the Office
Our office is an old house. I have a love-hate relationship with it. I love that it has character, I love that when we have lunch we gather around a dining room table, I love that we have a full kitchen and I love that the building itself is adorable. I hate that it's drafty and creaky.

The draftiness has yet to be a real issue thanks to this bipolar weather Roanoke's trying on for size. There was one day the other week that was particularly cold, but I found a spaceheater that Britannica abandoned and was fine. The creakiness has also been a non-issue because the office is generally so full of people, laughter, OfficeMate's singing, Across-the-Hall coworker yelling at OfficeMate to not sing, and our affordable intercom (yelling) that the creakiness goes unnoticed.

Today 5pm rolls around and OfficeMate and Across-the-Hall dip out. It's 5pm, we're the last ones there, it makes sense. I would generally go, too. Except, I have this grant. No big deal. I'm on a mission. I'm committed. I get into my writing mode. Off come the shoes. Forget the sweater. Turn off classic rock, bust out the Juan Luis Guerra. The cursor is blinking and I am feeling the good grant vibes rushing through me. That could just be the sugar rush from the diet coke and half a bag of candy corn, but I told myself they were good grant vibes. And then I heard it.
thunk thunk thunk
I figured it was the door, so I put the shoes and sweater back on, turn down the music, and head downstairs. No one was at either door, so I went back upstairs. Sweater and shoes off, music up.
creeeeeeeeeeeeek
If there is anything that's an incentive to finish your work early, it's a creaky house. I went back downstairs, again in vain, and accepted the fact that the house was rejecting my being there. It proceeded to continuously proclaim its dislike for the next few hours, but I did not leave until I was satisfied with my writing. Or, semi satisfied. All in a day's work.

*Henrik Ibsen, I'm not a huge fan.