Originally published in July 2009.
As Greenwich Time reporter, Neil Vigdor, chronicled in the series, “Breaking the Sound Barrier,” gaining access to Connecticut’s delightful shoreline rarely is an easy task. Greenwich is a case in point, with non-residents paying $5 for a daily pass and $20 for a daily parking pass.
Yet this actually is a great improvement over the pre-2001 era. Being a beach-lover, sun-worshipper, and non-Greenwich resident, I vividly remember the beach-access dispute during the spring of 2001 (not to mention that I was trying to get tan enough to look decent in my white Greenwich Academy graduation dress).
As tempers flared and the opposing parties dove down mind-numbingly into the knitty-gritty of the law, there is one aspect of the dispute I will never forget.
It’s a phrase that speckled each and every media story, becoming the go-to literary device to express the heart and soul of residents’ concerns: the terrible, awful, no good, very bad possibility of the “Jersification of Greenwich beaches.”
I remember laughing out loud when I read this tagline for the first time, trying to make some meaning out of the horror implied by the “Jersification” of a beach. In my mind, New Jersey beaches until that point in time only meant one thing – pure joy.
Our family has journeyed to The Shore, specifically, Point Pleasant and Normandy Beach, every summer since I can remember. And each summer our trek to “dirty Jersey” is the high point of the year, a respite of family, fun, boardwalks, salt water taffy, Atlantic Ocean and peace.
So what can be made of the major “diss” implied by “Jersification”? On a stereotypical level, this question is not a hard one to answer. There are those particular beaches in New Jersey where overcrowding is rampant, where bathing suits provide meager coverage at best, where English-speakers are in the minority, and where secret (or not so secret) coolers of alcohol abound.
Even beyond the beaches, the “Jersey Shore” seems to have accumulated multiple levels of negative association: “skeevy grease balls,” as a good friend deemed them, stuffed into overcrowded bars, strip malls lacking the all-important “cute” factor, and the honky-tonk crowd that populates boardwalks like Point Pleasant, Seaside Heights and Atlantic City.
But just as all of your preconceptions are being validated, let me share with you my own experience of the Jersey Shore.
Growing up, we would start each gloriously sunny “beach day” with a batch of famous Hoffman’s homemade donuts. Still hot out of the oven from Mr. and Mrs. Hoffman’s little bakery shop, we were regulars and they knew our order before we walked in the door.
Bellies happy, we’d journey to the beach: a sea of other families and new friends to be made. There, my cousins, friends and I learned the virtues of my parents’ “Go Play!” mentality. We built sandcastles, caught sand crabs, played “run the bases” and tag, caught waves with our boogie boards and – if our parents were in a really good mood – ran out to the street to grab a snow cone or other treat from the Ice Cream Man.
At the end of the day, exhausted, we’d go home for showers, dinner, and maybe a swing by the boardwalk for rides, games, and frolicking along a beach lit by the oh-so-New Jersey combination of fluorescent lights and stars.
Although I have no substantial points of reference other than hearsay and casual independent research, I would imagine that this series of events is not unlike the days kids spend on beaches in Greenwich, Martha’s Vineyard, Nantucket or the Cape.
Since our family has transitioned to adulthood, our daily schedule of Shore activities has changed quite a bit. Now, we sit on the beach, enjoy a game of tennis, organize a pickup game of beach volleyball, or take a run along the sand until the sunshine fades and it’s time to join our neighbors for pre-dinner get-togethers staged during that gentle summer moment when day turns to night.
We will sit together laughing, reminiscing, enjoying crashing waves and watching little kids still full of energy scale the lifeguard stands laid to rest for the evening. We enjoy the camaraderie and the wash of memories that comes with so many summers spent “Down the Shore,” and then pack up our beach chairs, husk some corn, grill some burgers, and get ready to do it all over again tomorrow.
As some wise person said long ago, “Simplicity is bliss.”
You can call all of this blatant subjectivity or the rosy gloss of a childhood well-spent. But to this day, I simply cannot see anything horrendous or “dissable” about what I would define as “Jersification”: the variety of experiences and shades of happiness the Shore affords, even at its most stereotypical manifestations (read: Asbury Park).
There, I’ve said it. The truth is out. I am, despite all appearances, a hard-nosed opponent of the negative connotations connected with Jersification. I actually am a bit of a fan.
And while the Shore isn’t for everyone, I would urge you to do yourself a favor. Open up your iTunes, download some Bruce Springsteen, and let yourself fall in love with Jersey… or at least a Jersey Girl.
Christina Ciocca grew up in Darien and graduated from Greenwich Academy. She works in communications and public relations at The Dilenschneider Group in New York City.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Hats Off to the Classes of 2009
Originally published in June 2009.
June is a standout month for a number of reasons. In June, barbeques and beach days become the norm, the baseball season revs up, attitudes start to reflect sunshine rather than clouds, and a cold soda or ice cream cone never tasted quite so good. Maybe more importantly, though, June marks an important point of transition for high school and college seniors across the country: graduation.
Over the past several weeks, I’ve attended two commencement ceremonies. One, in Clinton, NY, as my brother graduated from Hamilton College (with high honors…what can I say? I’m proud); the other in Westport, as my sister finished a knockout career at Greens Farms Academy.
These ceremonies in their own ways were moving, meaningful and thought- provoking. At Hamilton, we heard from Cathie Black, President of Hearst Magazines, about the significance of communication in a world full of fast-paced, digitized information flow, as well as the opportunity that exists for today’s graduates to make daring, non-conventional choices based on the flux of economic and social life in America.
At Greens Farms, Dr. Chris Henderson of the Motor Neuron Center of Columbia University explained why we all should be considered stem cells, capable of transforming into whatever type of person we choose. Like stem cells, we have the capacity to regenerate and decide on new paths whenever the timing is right – a quality we should exploit at every possible juncture.
As I observed the proceedings of both of these celebrations (and to be honest, questioned whether I could view myself as a metaphorical stem cell) I got to thinking about my own high school and college classes, and the many ways in which the world has changed since June of 2001 and May of 2005.
Not one young woman listening to Anna Quindlen give us poetic advice on the Greenwich Academy lawn could have envisioned making frantic phone calls to our peers at NYU and Georgetown just three months later, awestruck that our country actually may not be invincible. And only a very few in the audience on a glorious sunny day at Georgetown could have foreseen an economic crash more drastic than any we have experienced in a generation, or the fall of finance from the collegiate throne of aspiration and prestige.
Other major factors have also shaped the Classes of 2009. While in high school and college, these students experienced the meteoric rise of the Internet – and social networking, in particular – viewed it as “normal” to own a cell phone, iPod and BlackBerry, watched parents reach the highest highs and lowest lows of their careers through the economic boom and bust, and participated first-hand in the election of our nation’s first African-American president.
So what qualities will characterize the high school and college classes of 2009 based on this impressive accumulation of major, unforeseen events? First and foremost, these students will need to develop very different mindsets and world outlooks to navigate the tumultuous territory at hand.
For one thing – unlike my classmates – very few of these students will take for granted that they can snag a first-rate job directly following college. This is a drastic change in perspective for these “golden children,” who spent their early childhoods in one of the most successful economic periods in American history. I recently learned that only 11% of this year’s college grads have full-time employment lined up – which quickly became apparent at my brother’s graduation, where the most typical response to the question, “What are you doing next year?” was, “Nothing yet.”
For another, as Cathie Black urged at Hamilton, many college grads may be compelled to choose very different paths than those they envisioned on their first day of freshman year – or even their first day of senior year. Rather than suits, ties and pumps, many students are traveling, teaching abroad, pursuing non-profit work or any number of one-off dreams that seem to make a good deal of sense right now.
I admire my brother for pursuing a passion – coaching sports – while he applies for grad school and figures out next steps. Maybe the Class of 2009 will emerge more passionate and committed to the causes that matter most to them than any class before.
And on the high school level, students entering college will meet a transitioning academic reality. The “liberal arts core” – once filled with the English-language Canon, European history and Econ 101 – likely will transform to account for today’s world. Perhaps key courses now will include topics like understanding the mechanisms behind economy stability and collapse, the history of Muslim/Non-Muslim relations, the rise of China, the importance of information technology, and the drivers behind the present movement to “go green.” With courses like these, the college Class of 2013 will be prepared to shape a world almost unknown to the Class of 2005.
So where does this leave the rest of us, who exited the ivory tower in times not quite so exciting as those we are experiencing today? Hopefully with our eyes open and minds ready for the challenges, innovations and solutions the Classes of 2009 will leave in their wake, and with similar courage to tackle the numerous unforeseen circumstances ahead with a smile and the kind of insights that will make a difference.
Christina Ciocca grew up in Darien and graduated from Greenwich Academy. She works in communications and public relations at The Dilenschneider Group in New York City.
June is a standout month for a number of reasons. In June, barbeques and beach days become the norm, the baseball season revs up, attitudes start to reflect sunshine rather than clouds, and a cold soda or ice cream cone never tasted quite so good. Maybe more importantly, though, June marks an important point of transition for high school and college seniors across the country: graduation.
Over the past several weeks, I’ve attended two commencement ceremonies. One, in Clinton, NY, as my brother graduated from Hamilton College (with high honors…what can I say? I’m proud); the other in Westport, as my sister finished a knockout career at Greens Farms Academy.
These ceremonies in their own ways were moving, meaningful and thought- provoking. At Hamilton, we heard from Cathie Black, President of Hearst Magazines, about the significance of communication in a world full of fast-paced, digitized information flow, as well as the opportunity that exists for today’s graduates to make daring, non-conventional choices based on the flux of economic and social life in America.
At Greens Farms, Dr. Chris Henderson of the Motor Neuron Center of Columbia University explained why we all should be considered stem cells, capable of transforming into whatever type of person we choose. Like stem cells, we have the capacity to regenerate and decide on new paths whenever the timing is right – a quality we should exploit at every possible juncture.
As I observed the proceedings of both of these celebrations (and to be honest, questioned whether I could view myself as a metaphorical stem cell) I got to thinking about my own high school and college classes, and the many ways in which the world has changed since June of 2001 and May of 2005.
Not one young woman listening to Anna Quindlen give us poetic advice on the Greenwich Academy lawn could have envisioned making frantic phone calls to our peers at NYU and Georgetown just three months later, awestruck that our country actually may not be invincible. And only a very few in the audience on a glorious sunny day at Georgetown could have foreseen an economic crash more drastic than any we have experienced in a generation, or the fall of finance from the collegiate throne of aspiration and prestige.
Other major factors have also shaped the Classes of 2009. While in high school and college, these students experienced the meteoric rise of the Internet – and social networking, in particular – viewed it as “normal” to own a cell phone, iPod and BlackBerry, watched parents reach the highest highs and lowest lows of their careers through the economic boom and bust, and participated first-hand in the election of our nation’s first African-American president.
So what qualities will characterize the high school and college classes of 2009 based on this impressive accumulation of major, unforeseen events? First and foremost, these students will need to develop very different mindsets and world outlooks to navigate the tumultuous territory at hand.
For one thing – unlike my classmates – very few of these students will take for granted that they can snag a first-rate job directly following college. This is a drastic change in perspective for these “golden children,” who spent their early childhoods in one of the most successful economic periods in American history. I recently learned that only 11% of this year’s college grads have full-time employment lined up – which quickly became apparent at my brother’s graduation, where the most typical response to the question, “What are you doing next year?” was, “Nothing yet.”
For another, as Cathie Black urged at Hamilton, many college grads may be compelled to choose very different paths than those they envisioned on their first day of freshman year – or even their first day of senior year. Rather than suits, ties and pumps, many students are traveling, teaching abroad, pursuing non-profit work or any number of one-off dreams that seem to make a good deal of sense right now.
I admire my brother for pursuing a passion – coaching sports – while he applies for grad school and figures out next steps. Maybe the Class of 2009 will emerge more passionate and committed to the causes that matter most to them than any class before.
And on the high school level, students entering college will meet a transitioning academic reality. The “liberal arts core” – once filled with the English-language Canon, European history and Econ 101 – likely will transform to account for today’s world. Perhaps key courses now will include topics like understanding the mechanisms behind economy stability and collapse, the history of Muslim/Non-Muslim relations, the rise of China, the importance of information technology, and the drivers behind the present movement to “go green.” With courses like these, the college Class of 2013 will be prepared to shape a world almost unknown to the Class of 2005.
So where does this leave the rest of us, who exited the ivory tower in times not quite so exciting as those we are experiencing today? Hopefully with our eyes open and minds ready for the challenges, innovations and solutions the Classes of 2009 will leave in their wake, and with similar courage to tackle the numerous unforeseen circumstances ahead with a smile and the kind of insights that will make a difference.
Christina Ciocca grew up in Darien and graduated from Greenwich Academy. She works in communications and public relations at The Dilenschneider Group in New York City.
Focusing On Being
Originally published in May 2009.
I typically am not the sort of gal who quotes popes. In fact, like many people – and 20-somethings in particular – I’m still in the process of figuring out whether structured religion is worth the old “college try.”
That said, a friend recently shared an idea from Pope John Paul II that seems just about right: “The great temptation [in life] is to concentrate on having and doing, instead of being.”
I first heard this quote while in transit to visit my family in Fairfield, as I made a special trip on a Friday night to tackle a critical topic: Where should my little sister go to college? As the days until the May 1 deadline waned and my mother’s jitters began to mount, we decided that a family meeting, replete with decision charts and testimony from attendees of both colleges in dispute, would be the way to go.
From the time I have spent as a college essay tutor, supporting some wonderful students in their pursuit of thick envelopes from their schools of choice, I have learned how difficult this application and decision-making process can be.
The pressure in Fairfield County is particularly brutal. I once helped a terrific student complete applications to 25 schools to ensure there would be sufficient world-class choices at the ready for him. He ended up at an excellent liberal arts college that wasn’t at first a top choice; but as I told him: “Dan, you can’t go wrong here!”
What makes this college journey so challenging is not really the stressful crunch to “get in,” but rather that a student lays her sense of self-worth on the line as she determines whether she’s “good enough” to attend one of the handful of elite schools that she has been told by advisers, friends and college review books will help her to have and do whatever she’d like in the future. Without this collegiate seal of approval, a student may just as well kiss her future goodbye. Or at least that’s how it feels.
As we sat around the dinner table, hashing out my sister’s two options, becoming embroiled in detail points and personal feelings, the American pressure cooker of competitiveness silently became a key participant in the conversation.
We debated where my sister would be most challenged, where she could grow as a person, where she could discover and fulfill her full potential in academics and beyond. We discussed life after college and which university experience would allow her to “have the most opportunities” and “do the most with her life.”
It wasn’t until many minutes into the conversation that my mother, sage that she is, asked my sister to pause and consider the question: “Honey, where do you think you will be happiest.”
It seems that this critical question easily can get lost in all of the planning and plotting that accompanies “making the most of the future.” Or, maybe more appropriately, that the concept of “being happy” becomes equated with having the greatest number of opportunities, doing all the “right” things to make it to the top, and eventually, accumulating enough wealth to prove the presence of happiness in our lives.
Surely, there is a correlation here. Part of happiness is feeling fulfilled and gratified by opportunities and accomplishments. But what if we learned from the get-go that just “being” also is a major part of our success as human beings? That choosing a school for the personal fit rather than the reputation might make us more content? That leaving work early on occasion for a family dinner, volunteer project, or simply some much needed R&R might make life more complete?
You might say this is ironic coming from an overachieving young woman who has attended great schools, who has chosen to plant herself in the middle of Manhattan’s rat race, and who willingly stays at work far beyond the hours she is required because it’s “good for her.” But if there is one thing that I’m beginning to learn as I figure out how to juggle career ambitions with personal responsibilities, relationships and goals for the future, it is this: The everyday moments of “being” really matter.
During these brief interludes – though clearly unproductive to the naked eye – critical work is being accomplished. It’s the work of regeneration, self-affirmation, and achievement of the centered, grounded quality that allows us to leap forward with intention and prowess. And, perhaps most importantly, it’s a window into that sometimes-elusive path towards happiness.
For me, the window opens when I’m running along the hilly back roads around my parent’s house in Fairfield, spending a night with friends at our favorite bar for their fantastic live music on Thursdays, or sitting quietly on the beach with my family at the Jersey Shore, where we have been spending summers for the last 25 years.
I wonder sometimes, when the window shuts again and I leap back into the rat race, whether “being” is a utopia only certain European countries have truly discovered. But then I consider the simple, uncluttered moment of elation that came when my sister made her college decision, and together we launched into the fight song of her alma mater to be. Happiness incarnate.
Christina Ciocca grew up in Darien and graduated from Greenwich Academy. She works in communications and public relations at The Dilenschneider Group in New York City.
I typically am not the sort of gal who quotes popes. In fact, like many people – and 20-somethings in particular – I’m still in the process of figuring out whether structured religion is worth the old “college try.”
That said, a friend recently shared an idea from Pope John Paul II that seems just about right: “The great temptation [in life] is to concentrate on having and doing, instead of being.”
I first heard this quote while in transit to visit my family in Fairfield, as I made a special trip on a Friday night to tackle a critical topic: Where should my little sister go to college? As the days until the May 1 deadline waned and my mother’s jitters began to mount, we decided that a family meeting, replete with decision charts and testimony from attendees of both colleges in dispute, would be the way to go.
From the time I have spent as a college essay tutor, supporting some wonderful students in their pursuit of thick envelopes from their schools of choice, I have learned how difficult this application and decision-making process can be.
The pressure in Fairfield County is particularly brutal. I once helped a terrific student complete applications to 25 schools to ensure there would be sufficient world-class choices at the ready for him. He ended up at an excellent liberal arts college that wasn’t at first a top choice; but as I told him: “Dan, you can’t go wrong here!”
What makes this college journey so challenging is not really the stressful crunch to “get in,” but rather that a student lays her sense of self-worth on the line as she determines whether she’s “good enough” to attend one of the handful of elite schools that she has been told by advisers, friends and college review books will help her to have and do whatever she’d like in the future. Without this collegiate seal of approval, a student may just as well kiss her future goodbye. Or at least that’s how it feels.
As we sat around the dinner table, hashing out my sister’s two options, becoming embroiled in detail points and personal feelings, the American pressure cooker of competitiveness silently became a key participant in the conversation.
We debated where my sister would be most challenged, where she could grow as a person, where she could discover and fulfill her full potential in academics and beyond. We discussed life after college and which university experience would allow her to “have the most opportunities” and “do the most with her life.”
It wasn’t until many minutes into the conversation that my mother, sage that she is, asked my sister to pause and consider the question: “Honey, where do you think you will be happiest.”
It seems that this critical question easily can get lost in all of the planning and plotting that accompanies “making the most of the future.” Or, maybe more appropriately, that the concept of “being happy” becomes equated with having the greatest number of opportunities, doing all the “right” things to make it to the top, and eventually, accumulating enough wealth to prove the presence of happiness in our lives.
Surely, there is a correlation here. Part of happiness is feeling fulfilled and gratified by opportunities and accomplishments. But what if we learned from the get-go that just “being” also is a major part of our success as human beings? That choosing a school for the personal fit rather than the reputation might make us more content? That leaving work early on occasion for a family dinner, volunteer project, or simply some much needed R&R might make life more complete?
You might say this is ironic coming from an overachieving young woman who has attended great schools, who has chosen to plant herself in the middle of Manhattan’s rat race, and who willingly stays at work far beyond the hours she is required because it’s “good for her.” But if there is one thing that I’m beginning to learn as I figure out how to juggle career ambitions with personal responsibilities, relationships and goals for the future, it is this: The everyday moments of “being” really matter.
During these brief interludes – though clearly unproductive to the naked eye – critical work is being accomplished. It’s the work of regeneration, self-affirmation, and achievement of the centered, grounded quality that allows us to leap forward with intention and prowess. And, perhaps most importantly, it’s a window into that sometimes-elusive path towards happiness.
For me, the window opens when I’m running along the hilly back roads around my parent’s house in Fairfield, spending a night with friends at our favorite bar for their fantastic live music on Thursdays, or sitting quietly on the beach with my family at the Jersey Shore, where we have been spending summers for the last 25 years.
I wonder sometimes, when the window shuts again and I leap back into the rat race, whether “being” is a utopia only certain European countries have truly discovered. But then I consider the simple, uncluttered moment of elation that came when my sister made her college decision, and together we launched into the fight song of her alma mater to be. Happiness incarnate.
Christina Ciocca grew up in Darien and graduated from Greenwich Academy. She works in communications and public relations at The Dilenschneider Group in New York City.
Changing the Rules of the Dating Game
Originally published April 2009.
Like many 20-something women in the New York metro area (and men, I might add, although they’ll never admit it), I enjoy catching an occasional rerun of Sex and the City. It’s like fortuitously bumping into an old friend on a street corner, one who is entirely empathetic, capable of picking right up where you left off the last time, and who has the gift of graciously – but firmly – reminding you that your latest “unique” dating fiasco is just one of the millions experienced by women all over New York City… and far beyond.
But after watching a recent episode in which the Sex and the City crew introduces the world to the now omnipresent phrase, “He’s just not that into you,” it occurred to me that my old friend actually might be the one in need of some fresh perspective.
Despite all her stellar advice, she wasn’t wending her way through the bars of Manhattan and Fairfield County during an ugly recession: one that I’m convinced is changing the rules of the dating game for good.
It turns out that the Sex and the City episode in question first aired in the summer of 2003, just as the Dow was beginning a steady, ebullient ascent towards its highest levels in history, and even while grappling with major national challenges, the U.S. seemed to be regaining a sense of hopefulness in the strength of our national leadership, character and financial largesse.
What that meant back in the summer of 2003 and up until very recently was that plenty of “Alpha Male Frat Boys” were populating the dating scene. These are the guys who moved straight from the frat house, the lacrosse team, or “B-School” to huge payouts (and huger senses of entitlement) at UBS et al., the ones who grabbed shares of houses in the Hamptons, dropped a few hundred bucks on drinks for willing women in exclusive bar/clubs in NYC, and had the luxury of deciding which one of those women he would be “into” on any given day.
While these trends no doubt contributed to considerable anxiety among women seeking their One True Love – hence, the resonance and empowering quality of the battle cry, “He’s just not that into you!” – there also was a comforting quality in the predictability of Alpha Male Frat Boy behavior.
I, like many other women, discovered firsthand that UBS Man may not always have been Prince Charming, but there still was fun to be had, along with the cocky confidence and monetary resources to make the fun endure.
And when we learned to pick up the predictably disappointing (and occasionally infuriating) signs that he just wasn’t that into us, we could cut our losses, remembering never ever to make guys like that the epicenter of our mental energy, and move onto bigger and better adventures – many of them labeled “Girl’s Night Out.”
It’s unlikely this pattern will ever disappear completely, but I still would argue that the once spot-on benediction needs an important update: “He’s just not that into you… and we’re in a major recession.”
The dating trends that accompany this new and different period of economic downturn in fact are worthy of a Sex and the City episode – or maybe even a miniseries event.
The series would be scripted from the numerous stories that have accumulated under the banner, “recession dating,” a catch phrase that is gaining some ground among the young professional set. Here are a few of my favorite play-by-plays:
1. The Scene
(Former) UBS Man: Uh, yeah, we should grab a drink sometime –
Employed Young Professional Woman: I know this really great wine bar in the East 50s–
(Former) UBS Man: Oh… I was thinking this place that has $2 Buds from 2pm to 7pm on Sundays… cool?
2. The Excuses
Employed Young Professional Woman: Oh hey, yeah, it’s been awhile... I just kind of figured “whatever” at this point –
One of the Few Still Employed Men: Yeah, sorry – I’ve just been working SO MUCH and I there are more layoffs and I’m just so stressed… and then this buddy of mine, he got laid off so I’ve been out with him –
Employed Young Professional Woman: I get it. It’s just so funny that you said it was exactly like that a few weeks ago, when we hung out maybe three nights in a row and then that Saturday but–
One of the Few Still Employed Men: Yeah. It’s just a really crazy time, ya know?
3. Less Funny, More Real
Best Friend Forever 1: It’s just tough, we’re fighting a lot over nothing, he’s just going through a really rough tough time, and I’m trying to empathize but sometimes it’s almost impossible–
Best Friend Forever 2: You have to know it’s not you, it’s just the circumstances, you guys are perfect for each other, it’s really going to be fine.
Best Friend Forever 1: I know. I guess it’s better to figure all this stuff out now anyway, right?
As far as I can tell, there’s been a good deal more “figuring things out now” in the dating world. The Alpha Male Frat Boy model has taken a hit. The comforting patterns of meeting, dating, living it up, and letting go are less regular. The mental energy that once was left for the fun of the dating game now seems to get poured into job applications, resume updates, and financial worries among a group of people – both men and women – who at one point felt invincible and on top of the world.
I don’t doubt that like the financial markets, the “correction” going on in this particular slice of the young professional dating scene is cyclical and will eventually take another turn, but for now, we’re moving through uncharted territory. The rules of the game are changing.
That said, there actually is a hopeful, best-case scenario for All The Single Ladies still seeking The One: It’s a lot easier to differentiate the princes from the frogs. With that power of discernment in hand, we can change the battle cry: “She’s just not that into you!”
Christina Ciocca grew up in Darien and graduated from Greenwich Academy. She works in communications and public relations at The Dilenschneider Group in New York City.
Like many 20-something women in the New York metro area (and men, I might add, although they’ll never admit it), I enjoy catching an occasional rerun of Sex and the City. It’s like fortuitously bumping into an old friend on a street corner, one who is entirely empathetic, capable of picking right up where you left off the last time, and who has the gift of graciously – but firmly – reminding you that your latest “unique” dating fiasco is just one of the millions experienced by women all over New York City… and far beyond.
But after watching a recent episode in which the Sex and the City crew introduces the world to the now omnipresent phrase, “He’s just not that into you,” it occurred to me that my old friend actually might be the one in need of some fresh perspective.
Despite all her stellar advice, she wasn’t wending her way through the bars of Manhattan and Fairfield County during an ugly recession: one that I’m convinced is changing the rules of the dating game for good.
It turns out that the Sex and the City episode in question first aired in the summer of 2003, just as the Dow was beginning a steady, ebullient ascent towards its highest levels in history, and even while grappling with major national challenges, the U.S. seemed to be regaining a sense of hopefulness in the strength of our national leadership, character and financial largesse.
What that meant back in the summer of 2003 and up until very recently was that plenty of “Alpha Male Frat Boys” were populating the dating scene. These are the guys who moved straight from the frat house, the lacrosse team, or “B-School” to huge payouts (and huger senses of entitlement) at UBS et al., the ones who grabbed shares of houses in the Hamptons, dropped a few hundred bucks on drinks for willing women in exclusive bar/clubs in NYC, and had the luxury of deciding which one of those women he would be “into” on any given day.
While these trends no doubt contributed to considerable anxiety among women seeking their One True Love – hence, the resonance and empowering quality of the battle cry, “He’s just not that into you!” – there also was a comforting quality in the predictability of Alpha Male Frat Boy behavior.
I, like many other women, discovered firsthand that UBS Man may not always have been Prince Charming, but there still was fun to be had, along with the cocky confidence and monetary resources to make the fun endure.
And when we learned to pick up the predictably disappointing (and occasionally infuriating) signs that he just wasn’t that into us, we could cut our losses, remembering never ever to make guys like that the epicenter of our mental energy, and move onto bigger and better adventures – many of them labeled “Girl’s Night Out.”
It’s unlikely this pattern will ever disappear completely, but I still would argue that the once spot-on benediction needs an important update: “He’s just not that into you… and we’re in a major recession.”
The dating trends that accompany this new and different period of economic downturn in fact are worthy of a Sex and the City episode – or maybe even a miniseries event.
The series would be scripted from the numerous stories that have accumulated under the banner, “recession dating,” a catch phrase that is gaining some ground among the young professional set. Here are a few of my favorite play-by-plays:
1. The Scene
(Former) UBS Man: Uh, yeah, we should grab a drink sometime –
Employed Young Professional Woman: I know this really great wine bar in the East 50s–
(Former) UBS Man: Oh… I was thinking this place that has $2 Buds from 2pm to 7pm on Sundays… cool?
2. The Excuses
Employed Young Professional Woman: Oh hey, yeah, it’s been awhile... I just kind of figured “whatever” at this point –
One of the Few Still Employed Men: Yeah, sorry – I’ve just been working SO MUCH and I there are more layoffs and I’m just so stressed… and then this buddy of mine, he got laid off so I’ve been out with him –
Employed Young Professional Woman: I get it. It’s just so funny that you said it was exactly like that a few weeks ago, when we hung out maybe three nights in a row and then that Saturday but–
One of the Few Still Employed Men: Yeah. It’s just a really crazy time, ya know?
3. Less Funny, More Real
Best Friend Forever 1: It’s just tough, we’re fighting a lot over nothing, he’s just going through a really rough tough time, and I’m trying to empathize but sometimes it’s almost impossible–
Best Friend Forever 2: You have to know it’s not you, it’s just the circumstances, you guys are perfect for each other, it’s really going to be fine.
Best Friend Forever 1: I know. I guess it’s better to figure all this stuff out now anyway, right?
As far as I can tell, there’s been a good deal more “figuring things out now” in the dating world. The Alpha Male Frat Boy model has taken a hit. The comforting patterns of meeting, dating, living it up, and letting go are less regular. The mental energy that once was left for the fun of the dating game now seems to get poured into job applications, resume updates, and financial worries among a group of people – both men and women – who at one point felt invincible and on top of the world.
I don’t doubt that like the financial markets, the “correction” going on in this particular slice of the young professional dating scene is cyclical and will eventually take another turn, but for now, we’re moving through uncharted territory. The rules of the game are changing.
That said, there actually is a hopeful, best-case scenario for All The Single Ladies still seeking The One: It’s a lot easier to differentiate the princes from the frogs. With that power of discernment in hand, we can change the battle cry: “She’s just not that into you!”
Christina Ciocca grew up in Darien and graduated from Greenwich Academy. She works in communications and public relations at The Dilenschneider Group in New York City.
Finding The Time to Reflect, Regenerate
Originally published in March 2009.
A colleague recently recommended that I leave work immediately and go straight to yoga class. Or better yet, in the spirit of Lent, sit in front of a tabernacle and take a number of very deep breaths.
It’s been that kind of winter in the New York Metro area. But as soot-strewn foreheads whizzed around Grand Central on Ash Wednesday, and friends joked that they’d already “given up” their jobs, there seemed to be a communal urge towards something different, something higher, something apart from the gloom and doom that has characterized the last several months.
There also appeared to be some solace in the prospect of reflection and regeneration that Christian traditions urge at this time of year; and, more broadly, that the transitional time from winter to spring tends to bring.
But here’s the critical question: who has time to reflect and regenerate? As much as I would have liked to take my co-worker’s advice, I was overwhelmed by the hundreds of obligations spinning around my mind. The spinning became even more crazed when I considered this frightening job market, where I am simply grateful to arrive at a place of employment every morning. A certain phone call only could be made during the early afternoon. The client progress update needed to receive sign-off before 4pm. If the strategy document didn’t get out to FedEx, our much-coveted new business prospect would not be as sure a bet. Etcetera, ad infinitum.
I’m fairly certain I am not alone in this mental whirlwind. I also have noticed among my peers an increasing willingness to bite the bullet, come early and stay late. We have acknowledged that the once-heralded concept of “work-life balance” has gone the way of the dinosaurs – which was always the case in finance, but now affects all fields. If you want to keep your job, you better get ready to work harder than you’ve ever worked before. As one friend pithily commented: “It’s an employer’s market. Deal with it.”
Contrast this remark with a recent special report on CNN, which chronicled a group of college seniors trying to jump into an abysmal job market. Among the diverse students interviewed, a striking number have decided to take a year to do something they “really want to do,” such as service trips abroad, Teach for America, or local non-profit work in fields of interest. Aware that previous aspirations to cash “a sweet signing bonus” are down the drain, these students are realigning their expectations – and perhaps shifting their values – towards what they feel might really matter. So there, corporate employers.
While it would be impractical and unwise for many of us burning the candle on both ends to have a similar “so there” moment, there is still a valid takeaway from these college seniors. The brave new world of a marketplace we currently are confronting likely will mean brave new ideas concerning how we can maximize our value as contributors to economic and civil society.
Wall Street while I was in college – a very short 5 years ago – was the coveted prize for collegiate “winners”: those connected or savvy enough to jump into an analyst role at Lehman or Citi or Merrill. Even in high school at Greenwich Academy (especially in high school at GA), many peers already knew that their one goal throughout college would be to become a banker and to join the 24/7 culture of downtown Manhattan.
I think that students will be compelled to make different choices this year, as CNN has shown. They probably will be similarly motivated next year, and the year after, too. A broader range of career choices may not always allow for the time to stop, reflect and regenerate; but they will, I think, provoke serious questions about personal and corporate values, what’s worth it and what’s not, and how we all can work our way through the quicksand of economic distress.
If members of the future generation are considering these questions as we speak, I would imagine they are seeking out some inspirational role models to help them discover the answers. Maybe it’s time to peel away from the keyboard and find the tabernacle after all.
Christina Ciocca grew up in Darien and graduated from Greenwich Academy. She works in communications and public relations at The Dilenschneider Group in New York City.
A colleague recently recommended that I leave work immediately and go straight to yoga class. Or better yet, in the spirit of Lent, sit in front of a tabernacle and take a number of very deep breaths.
It’s been that kind of winter in the New York Metro area. But as soot-strewn foreheads whizzed around Grand Central on Ash Wednesday, and friends joked that they’d already “given up” their jobs, there seemed to be a communal urge towards something different, something higher, something apart from the gloom and doom that has characterized the last several months.
There also appeared to be some solace in the prospect of reflection and regeneration that Christian traditions urge at this time of year; and, more broadly, that the transitional time from winter to spring tends to bring.
But here’s the critical question: who has time to reflect and regenerate? As much as I would have liked to take my co-worker’s advice, I was overwhelmed by the hundreds of obligations spinning around my mind. The spinning became even more crazed when I considered this frightening job market, where I am simply grateful to arrive at a place of employment every morning. A certain phone call only could be made during the early afternoon. The client progress update needed to receive sign-off before 4pm. If the strategy document didn’t get out to FedEx, our much-coveted new business prospect would not be as sure a bet. Etcetera, ad infinitum.
I’m fairly certain I am not alone in this mental whirlwind. I also have noticed among my peers an increasing willingness to bite the bullet, come early and stay late. We have acknowledged that the once-heralded concept of “work-life balance” has gone the way of the dinosaurs – which was always the case in finance, but now affects all fields. If you want to keep your job, you better get ready to work harder than you’ve ever worked before. As one friend pithily commented: “It’s an employer’s market. Deal with it.”
Contrast this remark with a recent special report on CNN, which chronicled a group of college seniors trying to jump into an abysmal job market. Among the diverse students interviewed, a striking number have decided to take a year to do something they “really want to do,” such as service trips abroad, Teach for America, or local non-profit work in fields of interest. Aware that previous aspirations to cash “a sweet signing bonus” are down the drain, these students are realigning their expectations – and perhaps shifting their values – towards what they feel might really matter. So there, corporate employers.
While it would be impractical and unwise for many of us burning the candle on both ends to have a similar “so there” moment, there is still a valid takeaway from these college seniors. The brave new world of a marketplace we currently are confronting likely will mean brave new ideas concerning how we can maximize our value as contributors to economic and civil society.
Wall Street while I was in college – a very short 5 years ago – was the coveted prize for collegiate “winners”: those connected or savvy enough to jump into an analyst role at Lehman or Citi or Merrill. Even in high school at Greenwich Academy (especially in high school at GA), many peers already knew that their one goal throughout college would be to become a banker and to join the 24/7 culture of downtown Manhattan.
I think that students will be compelled to make different choices this year, as CNN has shown. They probably will be similarly motivated next year, and the year after, too. A broader range of career choices may not always allow for the time to stop, reflect and regenerate; but they will, I think, provoke serious questions about personal and corporate values, what’s worth it and what’s not, and how we all can work our way through the quicksand of economic distress.
If members of the future generation are considering these questions as we speak, I would imagine they are seeking out some inspirational role models to help them discover the answers. Maybe it’s time to peel away from the keyboard and find the tabernacle after all.
Christina Ciocca grew up in Darien and graduated from Greenwich Academy. She works in communications and public relations at The Dilenschneider Group in New York City.
Lessons From West Virginia
Originally published February 2009.
“West Virginia? WOOF.”
This blunt and biting phrase is representative of my friends’ response when I told them I’d be away for a couple of days on business in Charleston, WV.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” is another.
And so, with a heavy heart, I boarded my Delta shuttle at LaGuardia. My dejection came less from leaving the New York metro area, where a deathly pallor has descended on Park, Madison and even Greenwich avenues, but more because we’re talking about West Virginia. For business. In my mind, there were few things less opposite from the definition of ‘fun.’ Call me short-sighted, but the only things I have associated with West Virginia are mountains, coal-mines and Habitat for Humanity.
But twenty-four hours later, I was encountering a different emotion. This time, it was that small euphoria that awakens when you realize that some of your deepest preconceptions are dead wrong, that you just have been taught something you didn’t even know you needed to learn. These lessons are worth sharing.
First and foremost, Charleston reassured me it’s possible to maintain a friendly manner, a peaceful demeanor and a low-stress lifestyle even when the country is facing “some of the largest challenges since the Great Depression,” as we’ve heard. Speaking with some of West Virginia’s business and political leaders, as I had the good fortune to do, it became clear that this news is not enough to erase a sense of optimism and hope for the future – qualities that are going down the drain in Washington, D.C., and the New York metro area.
Why? Perhaps because West Virginia is one of the few states that still maintains a budgetary surplus, retains a greater sense of commonality among its citizens, and borders on being “small.” But I also have the feeling, after asking some questions, that it’s a result of leaders joining together and approaching their state’s challenges as a rational, involved, tightly knit community, one that would like to conserve what many described to me as, “low-stress corporate and political life.” I admit I have been working in corporate America for approximately 1.5 years. But I already strongly believe that this “low-stress” mentality is worth deep consideration and preservation where it already exists.
Another lesson: Leadership goes a very long way. One of my stops while in Charleston was a “viewing party” for Gov. Joe Manchin’s State of the State Address. Again, I approached the experience somewhat tentatively – how much detail did I really want or need to know about the state of West Virginia?
But as I watched the popular Democratic governor report on his state’s progress, I found my mind engaged and my spirits uplifted. Here was a leader still capable of celebrating his state’s achievements and laying out a series of forward-thinking, long-term goals, even while recognizing the vast challenges and sacrifices ahead. Not only was the speech delivered with energy and inspiring rhetoric, but the governor really was rooting for his state, from the lowest wage earners to those teachers responsible for raising the state’s dismal educational performance, to the top executives running key industries. He even gave a tribute to a University of West Virginia football player just drafted into the NFL.
Looking around the viewing party, I was struck by the number of smiles dotting the room. West Virginians were on board. A sense of possibility still seemed to exist in full force, as did my own feeling that West Virginians actually may join together to tackle the numerous challenges the governor outlined. And this is from a state that consistently has ranked among the lowest in U.S. business development, trying to make a change for the better. Sadly, I am unsure that I can make similar statements about President Obama’s first major press conference, where we saw not even a small glimmer of hope that our great country will come out of this crisis stronger, better and no worse for the wear. As a young American, this is a message I long to hear.
One final lesson: Friendliness goes a very long way. Walking the streets of NYC, ill humor and scowls get the gold and silver medals, respectively. Even the quaint streets of Fairfield, where my family now lives after spending most of my childhood years in Darien, have developed a bit of an edge: I recently had the door of a local retailer closed directly in my face by a disgruntled shopper. Granted, both NYC and Fairfield County are facing significant economic challenges bound to throw us all off-kilter.
And yet, it was so refreshing in Charleston to have jovial conversations with cab drivers who own blueberry farms, to learn the state’s political history from a camera operator while accompanying a client to a TV news interview, and to be greeted by a woman suffering from bronchitis because, “We’ve had such nice telephone conversations, I just had to meet you in person.” These very basic elements of human kindness are not to be underestimated, especially considering today’s dismal realities.
So there you have it. West Virginia in fact was one of the best times I’ve had in weeks. Who would’ve guessed?
Christina Ciocca grew up in Darien and graduated from Greenwich Academy. She works in communications and public relations at The Dilenschneider Group in New York City.
“West Virginia? WOOF.”
This blunt and biting phrase is representative of my friends’ response when I told them I’d be away for a couple of days on business in Charleston, WV.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” is another.
And so, with a heavy heart, I boarded my Delta shuttle at LaGuardia. My dejection came less from leaving the New York metro area, where a deathly pallor has descended on Park, Madison and even Greenwich avenues, but more because we’re talking about West Virginia. For business. In my mind, there were few things less opposite from the definition of ‘fun.’ Call me short-sighted, but the only things I have associated with West Virginia are mountains, coal-mines and Habitat for Humanity.
But twenty-four hours later, I was encountering a different emotion. This time, it was that small euphoria that awakens when you realize that some of your deepest preconceptions are dead wrong, that you just have been taught something you didn’t even know you needed to learn. These lessons are worth sharing.
First and foremost, Charleston reassured me it’s possible to maintain a friendly manner, a peaceful demeanor and a low-stress lifestyle even when the country is facing “some of the largest challenges since the Great Depression,” as we’ve heard. Speaking with some of West Virginia’s business and political leaders, as I had the good fortune to do, it became clear that this news is not enough to erase a sense of optimism and hope for the future – qualities that are going down the drain in Washington, D.C., and the New York metro area.
Why? Perhaps because West Virginia is one of the few states that still maintains a budgetary surplus, retains a greater sense of commonality among its citizens, and borders on being “small.” But I also have the feeling, after asking some questions, that it’s a result of leaders joining together and approaching their state’s challenges as a rational, involved, tightly knit community, one that would like to conserve what many described to me as, “low-stress corporate and political life.” I admit I have been working in corporate America for approximately 1.5 years. But I already strongly believe that this “low-stress” mentality is worth deep consideration and preservation where it already exists.
Another lesson: Leadership goes a very long way. One of my stops while in Charleston was a “viewing party” for Gov. Joe Manchin’s State of the State Address. Again, I approached the experience somewhat tentatively – how much detail did I really want or need to know about the state of West Virginia?
But as I watched the popular Democratic governor report on his state’s progress, I found my mind engaged and my spirits uplifted. Here was a leader still capable of celebrating his state’s achievements and laying out a series of forward-thinking, long-term goals, even while recognizing the vast challenges and sacrifices ahead. Not only was the speech delivered with energy and inspiring rhetoric, but the governor really was rooting for his state, from the lowest wage earners to those teachers responsible for raising the state’s dismal educational performance, to the top executives running key industries. He even gave a tribute to a University of West Virginia football player just drafted into the NFL.
Looking around the viewing party, I was struck by the number of smiles dotting the room. West Virginians were on board. A sense of possibility still seemed to exist in full force, as did my own feeling that West Virginians actually may join together to tackle the numerous challenges the governor outlined. And this is from a state that consistently has ranked among the lowest in U.S. business development, trying to make a change for the better. Sadly, I am unsure that I can make similar statements about President Obama’s first major press conference, where we saw not even a small glimmer of hope that our great country will come out of this crisis stronger, better and no worse for the wear. As a young American, this is a message I long to hear.
One final lesson: Friendliness goes a very long way. Walking the streets of NYC, ill humor and scowls get the gold and silver medals, respectively. Even the quaint streets of Fairfield, where my family now lives after spending most of my childhood years in Darien, have developed a bit of an edge: I recently had the door of a local retailer closed directly in my face by a disgruntled shopper. Granted, both NYC and Fairfield County are facing significant economic challenges bound to throw us all off-kilter.
And yet, it was so refreshing in Charleston to have jovial conversations with cab drivers who own blueberry farms, to learn the state’s political history from a camera operator while accompanying a client to a TV news interview, and to be greeted by a woman suffering from bronchitis because, “We’ve had such nice telephone conversations, I just had to meet you in person.” These very basic elements of human kindness are not to be underestimated, especially considering today’s dismal realities.
So there you have it. West Virginia in fact was one of the best times I’ve had in weeks. Who would’ve guessed?
Christina Ciocca grew up in Darien and graduated from Greenwich Academy. She works in communications and public relations at The Dilenschneider Group in New York City.
Portrait of the Artist... As The Man
Originally published in January 2009.
As the lights faded to black, covering every crevice of Massey Theater in darkness, I knew I was hooked. It was the opening performance of Quilters – a musical directed by my wonderful former Greenwich Academy theater teacher and NYC director, Linda Ames Key – and I had felt a sense of connection and contentment I’d rarely felt before.
Through Quilters and many other GA shows, the theater became my passion: a creative space of human expression where exploring who we are and how we will respond to life’s challenges is central to making art.
The theater bug stayed with me throughout college and then into grad school. I gobbled everything theatrical, from Brecht to Broadway, and found myself in some unlikely situations: lugging lights into the grand old caverns of Oxfordian dining halls to mount a production of Grease (I was told my American accent was fantastic), and even forming a burgeoning theater company, Theatre Fille de Chambre, named aptly after a character in a Paula Vogel play.
But I was told by family, professors and mentors that the business world was calling, for reasons practical and financial. An achievement-oriented, fast-paced and multi-degreed young woman had much more room to grow in a business context, I heard, and with the American markets booming, why not shoot for the stars?
I ignored this logic for a while, thinking that it could never supercede the ideal niche I was carving out in nonprofit arts administration, and that the foreign, unfriendly norms of the business world were no place for me.
But, as it has for many idealistic young liberal arts grads, the tide began to turn. While studying Management during my second year at grad school, I began to see that other professional endeavors might provide at least a semblance of the deep communication and spark of innovation that I had pinned solely to the theater. I also watched many college friends step into their business careers with salaries that caused a double-take -- my stubborn mind began to soften. Why not try a business discipline outside theater? Why not experience something new and unknown, make good money, and then bring my learning back to the arts?
As I have surveyed my theater friends, I’ve realized that this change in path and perspective is not terribly uncommon. We’ll laugh now and joke that we have become “portraits of artists as THE man,” to make a pun of James Joyce’s great work. We’ll make the business world an anthropological study, hooting about the “ping-ing” and “circling back” that goes on in our well-heeled offices, stressing over client meetings, and occasionally pining that we have “lost our souls” in the tumultuous ocean of the market.
These conversations have become more frequent recently, but the tone has shifted. As we have watched our adopted business world grapple with shocks, upheaval and hubris in the wake of this ongoing financial crisis, we cannot help to think that the story is awfully similar to a Greek tragedy. The errors that mere mortals have made – which, as many commentators will tell you, involve “irrational exuberance” and pushing the limits of luck, fate and governmental prudence – have led to our unexpected downfall. We are left with a scenario only remedied by the proper absolution: a back-to-the-basics mentality where we choose not to spend beyond our means and resort to hard work, calm attitudes, and reliance on inspirational leadership to take us back to serenity.
Perhaps more important, I am left with a shocking revelation. Business, in all its corporate glory – a world we young artists now are aspiring to understand and relate to more fully –is just another stage for human endeavor, a platform for self-expression, developing self-knowledge, and challenges to be faced, just like the script of a Chekhov play. It even gives the same moral takeaway: through distress, we discover humanity. Brilliant. The perfect, Shakespearean, silver lining.
Christina Ciocca grew up in Darien and graduated from Greenwich Academy. She works in communications and public relations at The Dilenschneider Group in New York City.
As the lights faded to black, covering every crevice of Massey Theater in darkness, I knew I was hooked. It was the opening performance of Quilters – a musical directed by my wonderful former Greenwich Academy theater teacher and NYC director, Linda Ames Key – and I had felt a sense of connection and contentment I’d rarely felt before.
Through Quilters and many other GA shows, the theater became my passion: a creative space of human expression where exploring who we are and how we will respond to life’s challenges is central to making art.
The theater bug stayed with me throughout college and then into grad school. I gobbled everything theatrical, from Brecht to Broadway, and found myself in some unlikely situations: lugging lights into the grand old caverns of Oxfordian dining halls to mount a production of Grease (I was told my American accent was fantastic), and even forming a burgeoning theater company, Theatre Fille de Chambre, named aptly after a character in a Paula Vogel play.
But I was told by family, professors and mentors that the business world was calling, for reasons practical and financial. An achievement-oriented, fast-paced and multi-degreed young woman had much more room to grow in a business context, I heard, and with the American markets booming, why not shoot for the stars?
I ignored this logic for a while, thinking that it could never supercede the ideal niche I was carving out in nonprofit arts administration, and that the foreign, unfriendly norms of the business world were no place for me.
But, as it has for many idealistic young liberal arts grads, the tide began to turn. While studying Management during my second year at grad school, I began to see that other professional endeavors might provide at least a semblance of the deep communication and spark of innovation that I had pinned solely to the theater. I also watched many college friends step into their business careers with salaries that caused a double-take -- my stubborn mind began to soften. Why not try a business discipline outside theater? Why not experience something new and unknown, make good money, and then bring my learning back to the arts?
As I have surveyed my theater friends, I’ve realized that this change in path and perspective is not terribly uncommon. We’ll laugh now and joke that we have become “portraits of artists as THE man,” to make a pun of James Joyce’s great work. We’ll make the business world an anthropological study, hooting about the “ping-ing” and “circling back” that goes on in our well-heeled offices, stressing over client meetings, and occasionally pining that we have “lost our souls” in the tumultuous ocean of the market.
These conversations have become more frequent recently, but the tone has shifted. As we have watched our adopted business world grapple with shocks, upheaval and hubris in the wake of this ongoing financial crisis, we cannot help to think that the story is awfully similar to a Greek tragedy. The errors that mere mortals have made – which, as many commentators will tell you, involve “irrational exuberance” and pushing the limits of luck, fate and governmental prudence – have led to our unexpected downfall. We are left with a scenario only remedied by the proper absolution: a back-to-the-basics mentality where we choose not to spend beyond our means and resort to hard work, calm attitudes, and reliance on inspirational leadership to take us back to serenity.
Perhaps more important, I am left with a shocking revelation. Business, in all its corporate glory – a world we young artists now are aspiring to understand and relate to more fully –is just another stage for human endeavor, a platform for self-expression, developing self-knowledge, and challenges to be faced, just like the script of a Chekhov play. It even gives the same moral takeaway: through distress, we discover humanity. Brilliant. The perfect, Shakespearean, silver lining.
Christina Ciocca grew up in Darien and graduated from Greenwich Academy. She works in communications and public relations at The Dilenschneider Group in New York City.
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