So, I can’t believe what happened in Paris

So, I can’t believe what happened in Paris, but then again, sadly, I guess I can.

We all remember, well most of us who are old enough, remember where we were on September 11^th. Our parents remember where they were when John F. Kennedy was assassinated. Generations before that remember Pearl Harbor… I could keep going but I’m not a history major so I’ll probably miss quite a few KBD (Kind of a Big Deal) activities. I was texted by my ABS (Atlanta Big Sister) to check out the news on Paris. In my lifetime there have been countless school shootings, including the most memorable for me, Columbine. I was afraid to go directly to the news, because I have so many fond and life changing memories from France. It breaks my heart to think of that beautiful city filled with such terror.

I have been to Paris a few times, and I spent 4 months in Aix-en-Provence, in the south of France. Every time I went to Paris, I learned something new about history, discovered something new about myself, or realized how to keep a successful relationship with family and friends. Many of my experiences may not be specific to France, but the French setting certainly left an imprint. I spent Christmas in Paris one year with one of my most cherished friends, TBS (my Texas Big Sister). We went to Christmas Eve mass at Notre Dame (running home in the drizzling streets to meet the hostel curfew). The next night, we called our families from the pay phone in the hostel and wished them all a Merry Christmas. We spent our evening drinking from mugs we obtained in Germany, talking to strangers from all over the world that we most assuredly will never see again, and our Christmas in Paris was unforgettable. I missed my plane home that trip, and cried in the Charles DeGaulle airport cursing a down arrow equaling straight ahead instead of to go down the escalator… Let’s skip over the fact that I didn’t leave enough time.

As a college student in France, I was grateful for all sorts of experiences and opinions. Each day was a brand new opportunity to learn and grow mentally and emotionally. Sitting at a café for hours working on school work, purchasing a bottle of wine and asking the grocery store owner to open it and them surprisingly offer plastic cups, relaxing in the park playing cards chatting about life and drinking the wine were common occurrences during my time in France. On the train, in the park, at the café or at my host families house, I would journal about what I had learned, what I missed about home, what I wanted to do next. Each day left me a new perspective on living in the moment and appreciating the fleeting time left in this amazing country.

Anytime I take the time to embrace the people, conversation and the setting surrounding me, I think of France and the mindset I had at that time. Selfishly, I refrained from researching the tragedy because I was afraid my favorite places were destroyed. My memories of France are light and airy, devoid of any worries of responsibilities or my future. Let me re-iterate that this is certainly selfish, but I was scared to read about the injustice and add weight to those memories… Thinking about how our country felt after 9/11, I can only imagine the affect to such a passionate set of people as the French and those who visit Paris.

Eventually I pulled up my phone and did search for news about the bombings and shootings in Paris... It did break my heart. I can only imagine the horror, much like I can only imagine what it was like in New York on September 11^th, or in Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. I’ve never been directly impacted by such horrific events, but I do see the ripple effect. The problem is, there are so many horrific events throughout the years and increasingly, it seems, these days, why do we ever raise our flag all the way? In many cities, these types of attacks are daily occurrences. Why does our world suck so much?

At one time I had heard they may call the latest generation the “post everything” generation because they are post World War II, post the internet, post columbine, post 9/11. While the internet is great, the theme is that they are at “the tail end of a century of war and revolution” (as Nicholas Handler said in the article) two were horrible, awful things that shouldn’t be forgotten. However, these horrible, no good, (Can I add frightening?), very bad things just keep getting piled on with other horrible, no good, frightening, very bad things, WTF?! Even if it’s unlikely, these attacks in Paris could possibly kick off a world war III, which is terrifying.

For a sliver of hope, there are also random acts of kindness in the world… Once, I was having tea/lunch with two of my good friends in Dublin, Texas and a couple of seasoned women thought we were sweet and unexpectedly covered the cost of our lunch. Another time, a boy in college went out of his way to hold a door open for me (it felt kind and helpful, not anti-feminist;). I know of many occasions when my husband has stopped to help a stranger in need on the side of the road; he’s obvi a better person than I am.

So, in an effort to do my small part to battle the sadness in the wake of the bombings in Paris, I will try to do something kind for a stranger and I will reflect on my life and journal like a girl on a train heading on a new adventure.  #PrayForParis

#takenwithafilmcamera

 

 

Commutes

So, it takes me about 30 minutes to drive to work each morning.

As far as daily voyages go, this is pretty unimpressive — the average American work commute is a shade over 25 minutes, and, honestly, I could probably knock five minutes off my time if I actually allowed myself to drive like the average American. It's not the shortest commute I've ever had (I spent two years at a blissful 12 minutes), but it's certainly not the worst (a hellacious 90-minute saga), and, by and large, I've learned to live with it, because the trek supplies me with the one thing I can't really get anywhere else.

Solitude.

I discovered this quite by accident, many morns ago. As it turns out, I start my sunrise journey at a bit of a drive-time Bermuda Triangle (7:35 AM) — my go-to sports station is just hitting a commercial break, my go-to classical station is about to play a march*, and the rest of Dallas' morning programming is essentially 12-year-olds with Christmas Day drum sets.

Despite this, I tried to make things work for a while. I really did. I'd play music off my phone, or dig an old CD out of the glovebox — Matchbox 20 live hits? Whatever, yes, fine, anything — but my heart was never really in it. After a few years of exceptionally half-assed singing and one disastrous stint with audio books, I realized I was just turning up the volume for the sake of the noise. I'd had enough. One day, I pulled the plug.

And at that moment, with the gentle hum of the car as backdrop, for the first time I was officially "Travis, table for one."

As someone who writes pseudo-frequently, hearing my own voice in my head is not an alien experience. I know what my mental messaging sounds like. But over time, I'd grown used to penning my tales at the office, or at an equally busy homestead - sometimes a bar. Usually a bar. More than zero times at a bar. And perceiving your mental-self mull over daily drama in a place like that is very different than true solitude — there are so many other sounds and sights to be had. You can hear yourself think, but with mild interference. It's like being able to hear the conversation from the group next to you at a party. You have to lean in a little if you don't want to miss anything.

But once you turn your car onto the tollway/highway/freeway/expressway each morning, and you mute the distractions, you've no choice but to be a pretty rapt audience to yourself. You'd be surprised what you might learn. Or not. Honestly, it depends on the day. Sometimes, I'm a little appalled how boring I am. I should read more. I digress.

So why does this matter to the millennial? Aren't we the generation that wants walkable neighborhoods and shorter commutes? I thought we wanted dense living, where the office is a step away from the home, with some gastropubs and a pizza joint squished betwixt.

Truth told, I do want that. Or at least most of it. I'd save money on gas (but waste it on pizza), and I'd welcome the exercise of walking or biking right up to my cubicle. But at the same time, I realize I'd lose something there — I'd forgo that hour (30 minutes each way) where I can't look at my phone, can't really talk to another human, can't check my email, can't troll on Facebook, can't do really much of anything but sit and hear myself think.

Charting out my mental states during the morning commute.

You're going to tell me I can do that at home. You don't need a commute to be silently introspective, you say. But you know what's a tough sell? Coming home from work, kissing the wife, and telling her to hold my smartphone while I sit and stare at the wall for an hour. That won't work. I hope it won't work. I'm a little concerned if it works. And don't tell me this is what the shower is for — it takes me, like, four minutes to shower. My mental self hasn't even gotten through the preamble yet.** Brain Travis is long-winded.

Problem is, every other minute of my day is occupied by A) work obligations, B) home obligations, or C) mobile device connectivity. This is the millennial curse — we are always needed and always available. A brief commute is great, but isn't it just a shorter route from one hyper-connected spot to the next? Aren't we just trying to get to distractions faster?  

Trust me, I'm not high-fiving myself over this. I wish there another option. But as far as I can tell, the Fortress of Solitude lists just one address. When I run, I run with headphones on, and my brain is rattling around in my skull.*** Not conducive to deep thinking. When I walk the dog, I see neighbors who ask me about my day. Breaks the flow. No matter where I turn, my position has been surrounded. I've been hopelessly overrun by on-demand society.

As it turns out - and as horribly baby-boomer as this sounds - the car, and the commute I use it for, is my last solitary frontier. I can't divorce my daily drive. This is the very definition of Stockholm Syndrome. I know this. And yet I recognize I truly would struggle to adjust without that outlet. I can't find anything else that will do. I'm all ears for suggestions.

Just don't try and reach me between 7:30 and 8 AM.

*-I hate marches. I swear John Philip Sousa composed the same piece 200 times. The world is a monstrous place.
**-Your best ideas don't come in the shower - your half-baked ones do.
***-I run like I'm on stilts. No, like a duck on stilts. Why am I telling you this?

Dreams

So, when I was a little boy, I wanted to be an astronaut. 

It's actually more accurate to say I wanted to be a starfighter pilot. Look — I grew up on Star Wars and Top Gun, and of the two, the galaxy far, far away seemed less rife with sexual tension, which is appealing to a Catholic 8-year-old boy. And all spaceships, by an amateur analysis, utilized my three favorite things: lasers, explosions, and robotics. I was irrevocably hooked. 

That's me in the bottom right, around the age I became obsessed with space. No, I do not

know what I was looking at when this what shot. It's clearly gross.

Still am, truth told. Time has never worn down that stone. What did change, however, was my understanding of what being an astronaut actually required. Turns out that roguish charm, courage under fire, and shaggy hair represented approximately six percent of the ideal astronaut resume. The remaining 94 percent was primarily math-based. Astrophysics, trigonometry, long division. You know. The tricky stuff.

This was discouraging, as I was already a notably poor math student and well on my way to remedial courses as a high school freshman. I could read and write well enough, but when something needed numbers, I was alphabet soup — missing all the key ingredients. At some point around age 15, with this self-awareness in full bloom, I felt the dream start to die on the vine. You're never going to be an astronaut, Brain Travis said, unless NASA is adding stenographers to crews. Heart Travis listened. 

By 16, I was pumping out so much copy for the school paper that I really didn't have time for visiting hours when my childhood dream went on life support. Starvation, the doctors said. I wasn't feeding the passion, and it was wasting away. Predictably, at some point during my sophomore year, my astronaut dream flatlined. There was no funeral. Just a pine box and a hole.

And there it lay for a long time, buried in a shallow and fallow grave in the back of my mind, alongside the other myriad failures of youth — Here Lies Poor Grades, In Loving Memory-Past Romance, RIP: Missed Opportunities. I think we all carry those little cemeteries around with us, holding our breath as we hurry by them in hopes that we don't somehow resurrect the vulnerabilities we banished there. I tread more cautiously than most. This is surely why I hate zombie films. 

But we millennials — or at least the subset of the millennials that are just now hitting their early 30s, like I am — are almost genetically predisposed to mental necromancy. We've lived just long enough to have a "history", a past that both empowers and encumbers us. It's forged through youthful trial-and-error. On the other hand, we've likely got decades of wondering and wandering ahead of us, and have yet to solve the vexing riddle of fulfilling interior and exterior expectations.

Put another way, we're still not exactly sure what we want to do with ourselves, but we've finally got a pretty good idea what we can't. 

American society has devised countless play-on-word generalities for those of us embarking on our fourth decade of duty — Dirty 30s, amiright?! — but, to me, we're the true 'tweeners. We're too old to be young and dumb, and too young to be old and wise, so we sit bitch, uncomfortably mashed between the sharp elbows of our precocious youngers and the man-spread knees of our respected elders. It's sweaty and stuffy and we're not sure the seat belt works. 

It's not really an identity crisis — it's actually the frigid, forgotten void between one and the next. The late German-American psychologist Erik Erikson, who actually invented the term "identity crisis", broke down personal progression into eight stages that cover the human lifespan from bumper to bumper. They're all fascinating, but I'm particularly focused on two: Intimacy vs. Isolation, and Generativity vs. Stagnation. Or, more accurately, the connective tissue that holds those two stages together. 

That first stage, Intimacy vs. Isolation, centers around our ability (or inability) to build lasting, loving relationships and support structures. It ranges, roughly, from age 18 to 35. The next stage, Generativity vs. Stagnation, gives us a sense of fulfillment (or longing) as we live out our life choices, for better or worse. This stage stretches from age 35 to your early 60s. 

That little gap? Right there at age 35, as we transition out of one stage and into the next? That's the chasm I'm talking about, and that is what, inevitably, leads us back to dreams, and to me staring wistfully up at the moon before I close the shutters each night. 

This part of our lives — this crucial 2-to-5 year span that we suddenly find ourselves thrust into — is essentially the five minutes you spend walking the house before you leave for a long road trip. Did you get everything? Do you have clean underwear? Where is your toothbrush? Don't miss your phone charger. Take a good, long look around, because once you set the alarm and walk out the front door, anything you missed in the final sweep has officially become "forgotten". And you have to live with that.

You have to live with that. That thought runs through my head, over and over, like a Carly Rae Jepsen lyric — this unwelcome house guest that just won't leave. And it drags me, with my heels dug in and teeth clenched, back to the burial grounds of dreams long past — to a few whims I'd long since forgotten, but mostly to passions I'd never truly been able to.     

This is why I stare at the moon at night. Not because I'm planning my trip there.

But to decide whether or not I can live with leaving it behind. 

So, I've been married for 6 months...

So, I've been married 6 months and on our six-month-versary we walked in the Atlanta Pride parade! 

As a human, I believe strongly in the concept of being your whole self, whomever that may be. Millennial's are gaining the reputation as one of the most tolerant generations, we have the largest percentage, per generation (according to this Pew Research study) to support gay rights. This study also shows that millennials are a more ethnically diverse generation, with it growing in generations behind us. They are less likely to be polarized in their views on religion and politics. This all makes me believe that change in the right direction will continue. The decision from the supreme court makes only solidified my excitement to be married to my husband. Now, I am part of a community of people who, in many cases, have shown me what a true partnership looks like. Marriage is a partnership, and it always bothered me that they have been used so exclusively in the past.


Oh my, is Lucas a wonderful partner. I've spent much of my adult life working to be a strong, independant woman who doesn't need a man, but wants a partner. I certainly found it in Lucas. I am still in awe about how great it is to have. I know we're still in the honeymoon phase, but I feel so lucky. He does the little things, like help get things done that I hate getting done and start a project to re-vamp the yard because he knows how much the mosquitos attack me (maybe he's tired of hearing me complain after I choose to sit outside knowing they are terrible, but it's still nice :). He also does the big things, like support me when I am trying to make tough decisions about my career, and include me when he's doing the same.

When we got engaged, my very insightful friend (MVIF) explained it well, "Isn't it awkward being so formal with someone you're so informal with?" It was, but then Lucas and I walked down the mountain together, after the proposal, and started telling eachother everything we'd been keeping a secret for the last few months. Next came wedding planning. We had an Obnoxious Yet Tasteful Texan Wedding*(see Mick Jagger quote below). We jumped on the train of personalized ceremonies, and we wanted our guests to feel like they had come to "our wedding" and felt a valuable part of our ceremony and celebration.   

Even though there are articles out there about how millennials just want money or gift cards, Lucas and I are on the other end of the spectrum. We welcomed "off-registry" gifts and I wanted fancy china to use at dinner parties... A common theme in my childhood home was, use the china! We used it whenever we felt the occasion was special enough, even if we weren't wearing our "sunday best." We intend to do the same. My husband is a minimalist, so he had no interest in china, but he supports the good food he gets to eat at these dinner parties. He's accepted my generally over-the-top approach to all things in life with open arms. Mick Jagger said it best, *"Anything worth doing, is worth over-doing" (a life pholosophy I've adopted from my lesbian twin (MLT). 

In our 6 months of marriage, we have eased our way back into the normal hussle and bussle of life, our gifts have become part of our every day routines and we have tried to maintain a steady stream of Lucas + Christine time and friend time. Nothing too ground breaking, but I must say, I like being married to Lucas. We are lucky. We don't have to deal with unsupportive families; we never had to worry about other people's religious or political views possibly ruinning our wedding day or our relationships with our friends and family. Nor have we had to make the decision to not be legally married because of state legislation. We just had to worry about the weather, and that turned out beautifully.

Happy Six-Month-Versary to us! 
Side note: I hope you all celebrate the little stuff.  Life is too short and too good to wait around for the big stuff. Use the china, light a candle or a sparkler or do whatever makes you happy whenever something you feel is substantial happens. Take a moment to appreciate the moment! (thanks MVIF).

So, I cried at work today... ugh!

So, I cried at work today. I was in my office after a series of events that finally left me sitting in there with the door shut and uncontrollably crying as quietly as possible. I've also cried in my car at work, in the stairwell walking up and down trying to get the energy out a different way or in the bathroom. Every time, I was afraid someone would hear me. Most times, I call my friend and tell her about it because we both HATE crying at work. I feel like describing these situations makes me sound like a cry baby, but I am just another woman who sometimes cries. 

Why did I cry today? to the people in the room or on the call, it's probably because I was insulted after a series of accusations that I wasn't doing the tasks assigned to me. The reality is obviously more complicated then that, isn't it always? I am passionate about delivering a quality product. I have high expectations. I am confident and willing to speak my mind. On the flip side, another person's perspective could be that I am too demanding, that I am controlling, that I push my opinion onto others, and/or that I have unreasonable expectations. Is it a little of both perspectives? Probably. As a woman in the workplace, I am trying to be a strong, independent and capable woman. How do I know I'm not being a stubborn, irrational woman who wont listen to other's opinions... Do you ever know? How are you supposed to know? Not knowing or loosing confidence in what I believe is probably what ultimately makes me cry.

Consensus of society seems to be that you don't cry in public, especially in the workplace. Men don't cry, or, better yet, strong men don't cry. That means that if you want to be seen as a strong woman, then you don't cry. Crying is weak.
 

However, crying at work is something most people and a lot of successful women have done. The women before me wore pants so that I can wear skirts with pride. The women before me stopped getting men coffee so that a male co-worker can be polite and bring me a coffee every once in a while. Women before me worked late and were less likely to have children so that I can work from home and change my hours to adjust for my potential child's dinner time. Did women before me not cry in meetings so that I can express my emotions like a woman? I don't know if I'm ready to, but I hear crying is good for you. What do you think?

 As for crying, I am actually glad I did it. I hate crying, but I question today whether or not I hate it because the women before me, whom I respect dearly, had to hide their crying eyes to be more like a man or if it's only because I don't like being vulnerable (kind of like sharing with the world that I sometimes cry...)

So, it’s taken a while to admit this…

Thank you Christine for inviting me to guest Blog this week! This is my first ever, so please read with kind eyes and an open heart :-) ...

“So, it’s taken a while to admit this…”

Ok, so it has taken me a while to admit this, but they say that is the first step. So, here it goes: My name is Candice McCloud, and I am a Millennial. Whew! That felt great!

Yeah yeah, a bit dramatic, I know, but it feels that way in our primarily over 40 work force. We, the early 30 somethings, are the first leg of Millennials to infiltrate this matured corporate world.

Does that make us trailblazers? If so, then why do I at times find it so difficult accepting my Millennial role/title/position?

I decided to start with definitions.

mil·len·nial : (also known as the Millennial Generation[1] or Generation Y) are the demographic cohort following Generation X. There are no precise dates when the generation starts and ends. Researchers and commentators use birth years ranging from the early 1980s to the early 2000s – source, Wikipedia

trail·blaz·er : a person who makes, does, or discovers something new and makes it acceptable or popular, : a person who marks or prepares a trail through a forest or field for other people to follow – source, Merriam Webster.

Ok, so looks like our first task will be getting into Webster!

But let’s pause here a moment. See, I told you. We are trailblazers; no one even knows for sure from when/where we came. Insert brain image of a herd of 30 somethings with plows in hand overlooking an unmanned field of thought bubbles filled with quotes of: “You’re too green” “Wait, when did you graduate High School?” “I have children your age” “You’re too young, you wouldn’t understand” “Are you even legal?” “When I was your age…” “You’ve only been here 2 years and you already want a promotion?”  And my favorite, “Cause that’s how it’s always been done”.  This, my friends was not included in my course capstone at SIUC (Class of ’07).

Let’s be clear. I’m not complaining or whining, or looking for sympathy. I’m just trailblazing…see what I did there? J

So now, go back with me to my original question. Why do I, and fellow Millennials alike, find it difficult accepting our role/title/position? For me, it comes down to those illustrated thought bubbles. I am in a cross roads of wanting to be taken seriously at work, but still hold on to the youth and excitement that comes with being 30 and single in America.  I think it has something to do with the mythical ‘work life balance’. At work, I’m afraid of being looked at as too young and having too little experience, thus ineligible for higher level roles. At the same time, in my personal/social life, I’m often perceived as, well, too old.

Instead, what I wish the corporate world would see is that, in my 30 years, I have developed a uniquely valuable world view, being raised around the world as a military dependent learning different languages/cultures/people. I went to College for 4 years and charted a path of independence. I had access to an advanced level of information due to technological advances developed in my learning years, and had the maturity and focus in my early 20’s to enter into the workforce with intent, purpose and passion. To my world out of the office, I want them to instead be inspired and hopeful by my journey, and still ask me to hang out for drinks. Because come ‘on guys, I’m still me and I still know how to have a [responsible] fun time.

All in all, I don’t yet have the answers for this next group entering the workforce. However, like my fellow Millennials, I have many many questions and will continue to ask them with solutions in mind. Trailblazing is a journey and I’m happy to be part of it.

My name is Candice McCloud and I am a Millennial. Now where’s my plow!?

So, shouldn't I have to prove myself?

I am a millennial with a lot of negative stigmas, shouldn't I have to prove my worth and ability to contribute? In my short 7+ years in the workforce, I haven't felt that I needed to prove myself near as much as I was expecting. People are often surprised when they find out that I'm a millennial. Is it because the expectations of us are so low that when I do the things I say I'm going to do, and I do them well, they can't believe that this is coming from a millennial? Or is it because they don't really know the age range of the millennial? I am not sure but I will say that coming into the workforce, I was expecting to have to prove myself more.

When I started my first job, in most circles of the company, I was accepted very quickly. Now, I will say, there was a group of designers who were not expecting much from me, but I believe that was mostly due to my role and not my age. Also, there was this one guy who didn't want fresh blood on such a core brand, but I proved him wrong quickly. Otherwise, during my four jobs since college graduation, people seem to have no preconceptions about my quality of work. If I can toot my own horn, sense this is my blog, I would say it is because I come in the room with a sense of confidence and, more importantly, humbleness.
 
I believe that the more you act like you trust in other's experience, the more people are willing to work with you. It seems that people don't expect you to know everything and they appreciate honesty when you don't. As a millennial, I have inherently been in the work place a shorter amount of time than others; that does not mean I can't command respect or bring an alternative opinion to the table. 

If I 've been humble from the beginning, people seem to be more receptive to any recommendation or discussion topic I might bring. I recognize that there is a lot of knowledge that I do not have, and I can also have an opinion. I believe that if you position yourself as accepting of the knowledge of others while potentially helping them to be exposed to a different perspective, then people are willing to listen and converse, not combat with you.

One place where I was humbled the most was, where people tend to the most narcissistic, at business school. All millennial are narcissists, so I should have been extra. At any rate, I did evening school at Emory with people ranging in age and background professionally, personally and geographically. I quickly realized that I probably had it the easiest out of most of my classmates. I had a job that wasn't taking 100% of my brainpower. I had no children. I had no real responsibilities beyond going to work and hanging out with friends. so, why not fill my time with something that propelled me and hopefully inspired me? On the days when I was overwhelmed, or had procrastinated or whatever caused me to have to get up at 4 or 5 in the morning to complete an assignment and then go to school that night until 9 o'clock after work, I remembered that I still had it easy. I didn't have to drive in from the suburbs, over 45 minutes away, nor did I have a husband to fight with about responsibilities and I didn't have to miss putting my kids to sleep. I'd remember, "Christine, if women in technology, with English is a second language, probably has to fight for respect at work, has children ,and a baby on the way, can show up and be engaged in class, you can too."

I was at a conference yesterday put on by my company's Women's focused Business Resource Group, women's LINC. The theme was to Dare Boldly. One of the speakers, Kelly Loeffler, spoke about how her company had to prove itself in the marketplace. So I asked her, how has she proven herself and how has her company proven itself over the years? She came back, first of all, and said "I'm so jealous you're a millennial, doesn't everyone want to be a millennial these days?" and then preceded to say that it was all about confidence that you have the right background, knowledge and skills to do the things that you are doing and you must communicate what you are doing. Communicate with no preconceptions about quality or accuracy, just make sure others know what you are accomplishing and/or where you are focusing so that people see progress and can begin to relate it to the work they are doing. I think the key to the communication is confidence coupled with openness to input from others who may have alternative experiences to bring.

 

In that classroom, or in my company's business resource group, I meet so many people with so many jobs that I didn't even know existed. People are happy to give an explanation about their jobs, and if you ask in a way that is inquisitive and respectful, people will be willing, and sometime eager, to share. We, as millennials, have been told we need to prove ourselves. It doesn't have to be through having the right answer; It should be through knowing that you probably don't, but you can bring a unique perspective to the various answers out there.