The Art of Being Rejected

When the envelope arrived in the mail today, I couldn't help but chuckle. The EPA--that's the Environmental Protection Agency--took it upon themselves (or itself) to not only mail me one letter of rejection, but SIX.

Environmental Protection?

Despite the...many...applications I filled out over the past six months for jobs and internships ranging in scope from oil, to protecting our environment, to acting as a park manager....

Well, they all seem to have turned me down.

I have to admit that I'm a bit taken aback. I'm 3 credit hours away from an advanced degree and have a great work ethic. I consider myself well-spoken and well-written.

So what gives?

In December of 2009 I turned down an offer to work in Albuquerque as a planning intern with the Fish and Wildlife Service, recognizing that the job wasn't quite suited to my tastes. Holding regret for a few weeks after, I soon brushed off the decision as mere fate.

But should I have just taken it? Not been so...picky?

A few months later I was offered my position in Alaska...again. That same position that I have been so dedicated to for the past three summers, working hard for basically free in an attempt to earn a paying position.

Finally putting my foot down, I just couldn't say yes. Hopefully the image of 'sucker' that was plastered on my forehead for so long is finally faded...

About a month ago I interviewed for a position in Florida working with The Nature Conservancy on threatened bird studies. Although I thought I nailed the interview, I never got a return call.

As expressed earlier, the six EPA Fellowship applications I slaved over and spent too much money on were rejected. Apparently the interest was overwhelming this year and only 7% of applicants were honored with positions.

Alyeska, the pipeline company in Alaska, received my application months before the deadline. Nope. Never even granted me an interview that they claimed ALL applicants received.

And the most recent potential, about which I was sent two e-mails regarding a phone interview, suddenly disappeared into thin air. (Really). I keep hoping that he--the interviewer--will re-emerge and grant me the opportunity to be the interviewee, but I find the whole situation bizarre, nevertheless.

And, well, here I am. Classes are out in roughly one week and my plate is empty.

But is that so bad?

Of course, new opportunities are emerging everyday...even if I don't see them clearly upon their arrival.

I'm already brainstorming...and even dreaming about the travels I will take in the next few months.

Maybe I need a summer for me; a summer to relax, take it all in and enjoy.

For, when we aren't searching is when opportunities become us. Right?

Okay, it's a bit saddening at times, discouraging, annoying, disappointing, depressing...but mastering the art of rejection hasn't been so bad. It's not really that hard. It doesn't take too much effort.

...so can I add it to my resume' under trainings/certifications? Perhaps under special skills?

---Whitney Root---

Master of Science, Environmental Management

Master of Fine Arts, Rejection

Certified, Inability to Interview

Trainings: Wiping 'sucker' from your image

Interview Avoidance

Filling out the perfectly ignored application

Talk Like an Egyptian

Disclaimer:

Okay, so in no way do I mean to make fun of the individual who has written these notes to me. In fact, I envy anyone who can speak a foreign language as well as most of the people I have met on my travels. When your native tongue is Arabic and you can successfully learn, and speak, English...well, you are one of my heroes.

Having said that, the notes that follow have provided me with some nice laughs. As you will see, I apparently have an Egyptian stalker, of sorts...who stalks me via e-mail from his store on the boat I cruised on down the Nile in January. Unfortunately, some of the earlier e-mail love notes were deleted forever...but I am sure there are more to come.

February 20: i lick to say happy valantin day i know it is to leat but sorry u know that iam work on the boot i hope every thing is ok

March 21: how are u i hope every thing is ok from long tiem i dont hear news are u ok i hope every thing is ok in work and at home

March 28: how is thev lief i hope every thing is ok in the work and at home i wich for u agood helth this is my phon nambr if u want to send sms or to cool me 0020103825201 have anes day alot of love

April 2: hi my love how are u i lick to say to u befor all happy estar

Being Alaska

Alaska.

The 49th State. The Biggest State. The Last Frontier. The Last Great Place.

Refer to it as you will, but for me, Alaska (the arctic, specifically) has been 'home' for the past three summers of my life. With the recognition that I likely will not be returning this year looming in my mind...

Rarely can I escape a conversation about said state without being inundated with questions; questions about bears and icebergs, mosquitoes and bears. Bears and more bears, the 24-hour summer sun and the 24-hour winter darkness.

To the unknowing tourist, these questions seem rational. We are all enamoured by large animals and natural phenomena of which we have no control. Swarms of mosquitoes attacking from all angles sounds harsh, allowing for visions of black skies and death-by-bug scenarios...and therefore interests the simple mind.

But what I fail to hear...what I wish to hear...is what goes unspoken. People care about what they assume Alaska is...what they hear Alaska is. They are motivated by pictures of monstrous bears and lonely caribou, by dreams of prize hunts and big mountains, by thoughts of mountain men and salmon fishing.

But being Alaska is different. It isn't an idea or a picture. It's a feeling.



It's that feeling of knowing that, even though you are different, you still belong. That feeling you get when staring, unbeknownst to the happenings around you, into the nothingness of the Alaskan bush that is so full of...everything.


It's that feeling you get when discovering a lonely animal print. That feeling of wonder; that feeling of fear. Where was it going? Where did it come from? Is it watching me now?

It's the 'sunset'. That oh-so-alive feeling you get when, at 3am, the sun is still visible above you...and you feel as though you can conquer the world.

It's the Spring 're-birth', when life returns to this seemingly desolate place. That smell of life...that crisp feeling...that burst of energy.

It's being witness to a perfect reflection on a remote pond...the sun lightly 'setting' behind you and the clouds, seemingly endless, looming above...drenched in an array of hues...

It's simple living...

And simpler pleasures...like watching the sun cast it's light on an Autumn-colored birch leaf as it sits contently in an Evergreen tree...

It's watching the Autumn colors overtake the hues of Summer...listening as a soft breeze wanders through the valley...and feeling the cool, crisp air summon in the first signs of Winter.

It's watching wildlife...and knowing that they still fear you.

It's that feeling one gets when staring into landscapes that seemingly go forever...and realizing how insignificant we (humans) really are.

It's laying on the tundra, surrounded by ages-old plants and trees--some of the hardiest of hardy species on earth...and wondering what they feel; wondering what stories they could tell; and wishing you could, for just one moment, be like them...

It's watching herds of caribou cross a river in front of you...unknowing of your presence...yet unafraid of your being. Harmless creatures who want nothing more than to survive the harsh winter and make the trip to their calving grounds in the spring. Creatures who have done nothing but be, yet bear the brunt of human stupidity and ignorance.

The World's Largest Rattlesnake Round-Up

"Say hi to Charlie," said the concessionaire as he pushed a stuffed, roughly 5-foot-long rattlesnake in my face.

If there is one creature on this planet that I cannot handle, in any shape or form, its the snake.

In this case, it is the Western Diamondback Rattlesnake, specifically.

For 52 years now, Sweetwater, Texas has hosted its annual Rattlesnake Round-Up, originally dreamt up by a group of ranchers with the desire to annihilate the large rattlesnake population in the area. Tired of their cattle getting bitten, the Round-Up allowed for the capture, data gathering, venom leaching, skinning and--eventual--murder and consumption of said snakes.

Today, the yearly event boasts its own 'parade' (and I use that term loosely), Miss Snake Charmer Competition (requiring the competitors to skin a snake) and a weekend-full of disgustingly fatty foods being consumed by complete and utter rednecks.

So I had to go.

With my sister and nephew in town, the timing couldn't have been better. Admittedly, I did attend the event back in 2007--my first Spring in the area--to say that I had. I vowed, at that moment, to never return.

But, again, how could I pass up the opportunity to scar my sister for life?


Trying to remain calm and be decent to the concessionaire (who we wanted to punch), we laughed nervously and walked on, zig-zagging through a surprisingly large crowd of onlookers. Cheap, yet over-priced, gifts filled the area; gifts of all sorts. Rattlesnake skins, rattlesnake heads, t-shirts, picture frames, hats and even Kevlar chaps (to avoid being bitten). It was a hillbilly heaven.

Less than impressed, my sister couldn't hide her disgust, questioning why such a large crowd was gathering around the 'skinning pit'.

"Do they skin them alive?" she asked, fear in her eyes.

I couldn't answer the inquiry, but assumed that it couldn't be true.

We never ventured over to look.

I hardly think we lasted 30 minutes in the Round-Up arena. Other than watch fools trample around in snake pits, watch other fools catch and de-venom (is this a word?) poor victims or gawk at the oh-so-interesting crowd, there isn't much to do.

Except shutter.

Rumor has it that each year several of the captured escape the wrath....

...that they are later 'found' wandering around the arena grounds, or in the park...

...but with each coming spring the hunters will be out again, searching for that prized snake--the one that could win them the coveted 'largest snake' award...

...and the crowds will reassemble to eat snake, fried cream cheese sticks and over-sized burritos.

Welcome to West Texas.

Pulling it off, again

One year ago, in late February, my sister and I pulled off the ultimate prank: We planned her visit to Texas unbeknownst to my parents. The day after arriving home from a trip to Turkey I drove two hours to the Midland airport to pick her up, my parents thinking I was headed to the University to give a presentation on Alaska.

Well, we did it again.

This time I was supposedly helping a friend with some rock art-associated work. Five hours later, Victoria and Aidan walked through the doors of our West Texas home.

Twice is nice, but three times...I don't know that we can pull it off again.

Pictured is all of us, in a long-overdue family photo (Ambroise the pug included).

Enjoy the View...

"Enjoy the view; the bright sun; the blue sky," states my father from time to time referring, of course, to the possibility of us losing our wide-open, seemingly endless horizons, huge skies and bright sunny days to....a dirty coal plant.

I can't say that I consider west Texas to be within the top ten most gorgeous places I have ever witnessed, but every location has its own unique beauty, its own character. Here, it is the sky and the sheer size of it all. At night, once the sun has dropped beneath the horizon amidst a range of nearly blinding hues, the endless number of stars emerge to a deafening silence. On occasion an owl will hoot or coyotes sing, but its just...so...quiet. One cannot help but stand outside underneath the Big Dipper and the North Star...and just stare. Or to peer into the darkness at what may be...and wonder. Daylight emerges with a powerful sunrise, one that soon beckons in perhaps the brightest of blue skies I have seen. Birds chirp and play, butterflies work endlessly and the signature west Texas wind blows the otherwise daunting mesquite trees around with its mighty power.

It's peaceful. It's natural. It's home.

I learned many years ago that, in the blink of an eye, what one has may be taken away. I was a healthy, outgoing and energetic being. One moment in time changed all of that. Forever.

I learned quickly, yet too slowly, that one's life must be enjoyed. We must strive to do all that we desire. We must make the most of each day. Laugh. Smile. Learn. Travel.

Whatever it is that makes us feel 100% alive, we must do it.

It took me some time to figure out this lesson that, clearly, should be basic, common sense. But our society 'trains' us to strive for those objects that are of material value. We are 'taught' that money matters, that fame is desirable and that beauty will make one successful.

And success. Ha. What makes one individual more successful than the next? Society will measure success based upon money, cars, homes and clothes. But what about happiness? Experiences that others cannot take away? Seeing the world? DOING WHAT ONE WANTS???

I have, for far too many years, compared myself to those around me. To this day I find myself continually participating in said activity. Why?

Why should I be bothered wasting my time wondering or caring about what someone else thinks?

Life comes and goes...so fast. Time seems to fly by, faster and faster with each passing day. Events that seemingly occurred just a few short years ago....well, they were, in some instances, decades ago.

Before we know it, we are....old. Bones creak and muscles ache. Eyes and ears aren't so sharp, the memory is getting shorter and shorter. The 'good old days' are far behind and the days of 'reality' upon us.

Despite the anger I hold within for the Doctor that basically ruined me....

I also have to commend him for opening my eyes; for making me realize that life is too short, that time passes too quickly, to fail to enjoy the view.

Vegas, Baby

For thirteen years, 1993-2006, I lived in Las Vegas, Nevada...and basically hated every moment of it. I went through high school in said town, and graduated college from UNLV, but walked away with no ties other than my sister and her family.

Vegas is a strange place.

I know I am...weird...but I never quite found my niche in Nevada; never really felt as though I fit in. Yes, I spent ample time at Redrock hiking the miles of trails that zig-zag the basin and went to dozens of concerts at The Hard Rock, The Thomas and Mack and The Sanctuary....

...but Vegas is a hard place to figure out. It's a tough place to meet people who are 'real', honest and trustworthy. Job requirements include knowing the right person and having more plastic than fleshy body parts, while the 'hot spots' to hang out involve loud, obnoxious and sweat-smelling nightclubs that have never interested me in the least.

It's little more than a fantasy land. Tourists flock in droves to 'The Strip' to gawk and awe at the Bellagio, New York-New York and the Venetian. After walking through the Luxor people feel as though they have actually stepped foot in the ancient valleys of Egypt...that they are adventurous world-travelers.

But it's all phony. Don't people get that?

"I came out ahead" is a favorite line of all Vegas tourists. Sure, buddy. That is why Steve Wynn was able to spend several BILLION dollars on the Bellagio's construction....cause you won big in the casinos. Yup. Idiocy at its finest.

The cars, the clothes, the bodies, the money. Nothing is real in Vegas. It's all for show.

But in some strange way I almost miss it.

Is it the 24-hour possibilites? The thrill of driving through wacko-laden traffic? The weirdos? The stories? The opportunities?

I really don't know. But Vegas has a way of sucking one in...and keeping a hold on that individual...

...perhaps the reason why I leave, swear I will never return, and then do.....over and over again, each time experiencing the same negative yet exciting feelings.

It's Vegas, baby. What happens there, forever stays there.....and lives on and on.....