Internship Life Quotes

it is hard to find one’s calling because many mistakenly believe they need to look only within to discover their passion. Although it is true that we have innate interests and talents, we often do not know what they are until we have real-life experiences. Having a wide range of experiences can help you uncover your inner passion. Try various part-time jobs and internships, or volunteer. Don’t be afraid of rolling up your sleeves and diving in. While immersed in a job’s reality, you will discover whether it’s a good fit. Work experiences may unlock the door to a career opportunity you hadn’t considered. Third,

Half my life is over, I would say, seemingly out of nowhere, in our very first session—and Wendell would jump right on this. He was picking up where my internship supervisor had left off years earlier. You won’t get today back. And the days were flying by.

It's absurd to think about how a $1,600 stipend changed the course of my life. It's absurd to think about how many internships are still unpaid, and how elitist and morally corrupt it is to hire unpaid or underpaid labor.

When you lived a certain kind of life, pushed along by good colleges and internships and jobs and a shared, tranquil neighborhood and a world of privilege in which your child overlapped, you were inevitably part of a long chain of connections. All of them could help one another; the possibilities were there if they wanted them, though many of them didn't seem to want them anymore, or maybe they had somehow forgotten they had once wanted them.

Poor kids flip burgers, middle class kids do internships and rich kids volunteer. The extra-cool kids also play in bands and rob houses.

What I’m about to tell you,” Elliott told me, “ninety-nine percent of people in the world will never understand.” For the first time all week, it was just the two of us. Elliott had told Austin he wanted to talk to me one-on-one. We were standing on a rooftop lounge during sunset, looking out at the Manhattan skyline. “You see, most people live a linear life,” he continued. “They go to college, get an internship, graduate, land a job, get a promotion, save up for a vacation each year, work toward their next promotion, and they just do that their whole lives. Their lives move step by step, slowly and predictably. “But successful people don’t buy into that model. They opt into an exponential life. Rather than going step by step, they skip steps. People say that you first need to ‘pay your dues’ and get years of experience before you can go out on your own and get what you truly want. Society feeds us this lie that you need to do x, y, and z before you can achieve your dream. It’s bullshit. The only person whose permission you need to live an exponential life is your own. “Sometimes an exponential life lands in your lap, like with a child prodigy. But most of the time, for people like you and me, we have to seize it for ourselves. If you actually want to make a difference in the world, if you want to live a life of inspiration, adventure, and wild success—you need to grab on to that exponential life—and hold on to it with all you’ve got.

A hereditary defect in the DNA for ADH makes this hormone’s function immediately apparent. People who inherit this condition produce fifteen liters of urine a day. I have followed a family that has had the condition for five generations. It was during my internship in 1968 in Amsterdam’s Binnengasthuis Hospital that I first met them. At that time, the family’s life was largely dominated by urinating and drinking.

Whenever there is something planned in my life—either meeting a friend, going on a school or uni trip, going for a walk, or, like today, starting an internship—when it actually comes to the day I have to go through with the plan, it goes from being something I’m excited about to something I dread. If I arrange to go to the cinema in a week’s time, for instance, when the time to go comes around, it becomes the last thing I want to do. My instinct, always, is to stay in.

Shadi had driven her to the passport office to get her picture taken. He already had stamps in his from visits to France, South Africa, and Kenya, and she realized, waiting in the tiny office, that her mother had never even left the country. This would be her life, accomplishing the things her mother had never done. She never celebrated this, unlike her friends who were proud to be the first in their family to go to college or the first to earn a prestigious internship. How could she be proud of lapping her mother, when she had been the one to slow her down in the first place?

I did a lot of eating instead of serving those days, when I wasn't at my internship. That particular afternoon, I was seated at my aunt's counter with a plate of rui fish and rice: a beloved Bengali dish that seemed like a good antidote for heartache. Besides, working out the bones between my lips and pressing my finger against their sharp edges was cathartic. I couldn't beat up the guy who ruined the cart, but I could show a fish who was boss. I doubt I was reassuring any of the other wary regulars, who had all been informed by my aunt about my sensitive state, by gnawing on the bones. "Um. You seem to be very engrossed there," a familiar voice broke in tentatively. Of course. I should have known better than to expect that he would vanish from my life that easily. I kept my eyes on my plate and took another generous bite of fish, making sure to scoop up the fried onions and a bit of the fat that had soaked up enough of the turmeric, ginger, and garlic sauce.

And her. What would she do without him? She’s not special, not like BB and Ghostly, who awe her with their intelligence and the things they’re capable of, all their humbling potential. All she does is write - a lot - because it’s fun. She’s under no illusions, she’s popular through quantity not quality, she’s not bad but she is not Blackbindings and she never will be. She writes because it’s fun. And she thinks about him, and what he does. She works three jobs she hates, just to keep the bills paid. She wanted to get into journalism but she can’t afford the internships. She already sees what her life will be like, she sees the path ahead, she knows there’s no way off; she’ll never not be working three dead end jobs she hates, she’ll marry her boyfriend and unless there’s an accident they’ll decide almost too late that fuck it they’d better have those kids now or never, because they never will be able to afford them; she’ll never do anything amazing, never be anything amazing, just a person in a world full of people, getting by. But there’s him. And every time she faces life and thinks she can’t bear it, there’s him. If he can be so brave, can’t she manage the littlest bravery? Because - because her little pointless life that will never mean anything, that will have vanished beyond notice within hardly more than a hundred years if she has those kids to remember her, her dragging, struggling life of bills and broken pipes and fuck it it’s another ramen week unless they can live without cell phones - If she was in trouble, he’d still rescue her, wouldn’t he? Her life wouldn’t mean anything less to him. He rescues people. She’s still a person, as much as anyone else. She’s not important and she’s not special. But she’s a person. And she wipes her nose on the back of her wrist because she tossed the tissues and that’s what he gave her, and maybe it’s the smallest way to save someone’s life, to let them know they still matter whoever they are, but fuck like it doesn’t mean anything to her. It does. She owes him this, and everything …

During those long stretches on the links, as I carried their bags, I watched how the people who had reached professional heights unknown to my father and mother helped one another. They found one another jobs, they invested time and money in one another’s ideas, and they made sure their kids got help getting into the best schools, got the right internships, and ultimately got the best jobs. Before my eyes, I saw proof that success breeds success and, indeed, the rich do get richer. Their web of friends and associates was the most potent club the people I caddied for had in their bags. Poverty, I realized, wasn’t only a lack of financial resources; it was isolation from the kind of people who could help you make more of yourself. I came to believe that in some very specific ways life, like golf, is a game, and that the people who know the rules, and know them well, play it best and succeed. And the rule in life that has unprecedented power is that the individual who knows the right people, for the right reasons, and utilizes the power of these relationships, can become a member of the “club,” whether he started out as a caddie or not.

Some time way back in the latter half of my internship, I gave up the idea of saving lives and became more comfortable with the idea of managing illness to limit dis-ease. But in the ICU we really aren’t even able to do that very much since almost all the definitive maneuvers have already been made or are not any longer an option. As a result, what we do for ourselves and what we do for patients are really two distinct things. For ourselves we manage to learn a great deal about the mechanics of medical care for desperately sick people. For patients and, more importantly, for families, I’m beginning to think what we do is simply provide a dramatic, even gruesome ritual of dying.

encompasses school culture, academics, social dynamics, extracurricular opportunities, internship/job opportunities, geography, financial aid, and any other criteria profoundly important to you. Choose the school based on true fit, not on just brand name. College life Frankly, most of the success habits that were key in high school still apply in college, so there’s no need to repeat them in this section. What defines a successful time in in college, however, is commonly judged in terms of your summer internships and ultimately the job you undertake post-college. Be careful in choosing your classes … or

Parker Palmer (who by now you’ve guessed is one of my discernment gurus) writes that when we are doing what we are supposed to be doing, we will know it because we will be energized by it, joyful in it. (Think of the apostle Paul’s fruit of the spirit in Galatians 5: love, joy, peace, and so on.) And when we are not doing what we’re supposed to be doing, we will be dragged down by it, disheartened by it, and perhaps, if we are not careful, destroyed by it. Simply put: Does the path you’re on bring you joy or pain? Note that the question is not, Is this what others think I should be doing? It’s not, Is this what makes me look good—or makes me a lot of money? It’s not even, Is this what other people whose walks with God I respect are doing? Does the path you’re on bring you joy or pain? I’m not talking, of course, about temporary hardships: internships, residencies, two-shift careers while you’re finishing something. I believe that most worthwhile things require hard work, the solving of difficult problems, stamina, faithfulness. In my three years of seminary I was challenged to my limits. I had never worked so hard, had to manage time so well. And I loved every minute of it. Okay, maybe not every minute—I can’t say I enjoyed Greek, or my hospital chaplaincy, although I understood why I was doing them. But even in those hard things I knew I was doing the right thing, and my life, in general, was filled with joy. And if you are doing even the most worthy of things, but it breaks you down instead of building you up, you may need to take notice. Once you set your foot on the path, ask yourself, “Is this the path of God’s joy for me?” If after a while you’re not sure you can answer that question in the affirmative, give some serious thought to whether or not you ought to continue. Merton’s prayer ends in this way: You will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always.5 As I’ve spent time thinking about who and what God is, I’ve come to believe that God’s job is not to make things easy for me. Not to give me a candy-coated existence. Not even to make me feel good about myself. But what has made my life possible—or at least, made it possible to continue living—is that I have felt God’s presence with me in good times and bad, and come to the genuine belief that if I try hard to live in God’s will instead of chasing my own, good things will happen. I rarely, if ever, know exactly what those good things will be, and sometimes they don’t seem particularly good in the moment. But that’s what faith is all about. Not a naive belief that God is going to give me what I want. Instead, it’s my own resolve to go on believing and trusting, and to keep my feet moving on the path, so that up around the next bend or over the next rise, maybe what God has in store for me will come into view.

I always thought that Jax was my golden ticket to happiness, but I was wrong. There is joy without Jax, and in actuality, there always has been. In all my happy memories, he was there, and I let myself think that he was the reason. But now, I know that he was just along for the ride, just as I was on his roller coaster through life. He was a passenger on my ride, the one I created. I have the choice to live my life with regret or to live it with gratitude, and I’m choosing the latter. I still don’t understand everything that has happened, and maybe I never will. But I know that this isn’t the end for me. I’m not on the downward slide of life at almost twenty-three. Bigger and better things are out there. A smile warms my face as I focus on the full suitcase sitting next to my bedroom door. I leave tomorrow for New York City. I still can’t wrap my mind around that one either. While looking for photography jobs online this summer, I came across an internship at a huge advertising firm, and I applied on a whim. I knew that the competition would be fierce, and the chances of me getting

Von had landed a good internship at the Lowndes County Health Department with the help of Chey that had the potential to become a permanent job once she graduated. With that job and a good reference from the school and from Chey, she was able to land her apartment and it would be ready by the time she would be released from the halfway house. But the biggest blessing of them all was that she now had her son back in her life and was given a second chance to be the best mother she could be. The

No career counselor or internship will be able to help you with your career if you don't have an aim, purpose, and passion for what you want to do in life.

Large numbers of highly qualified men and women left England in the 1950s (in the so-called brain drain), for professions and universities were crowded in England, and (as I saw when I did my neurology internship in London) brilliant and accomplished people could get stuck for years in subservient roles, never enjoying autonomy or responsibility.

Well, good. I figured you were, but…” He turned down our street and glanced at me. “Wait, there’s another guy, isn’t there?” He grinned. “Ugh, Dad. I’m not talking boys with you.” “What’s his name?” I feigned a scowl. “Does he go to Sutton?” I rolled my eyes. “Where’d you meet?” A smile cracked. We pulled into the driveway. “What’s he do?” I sighed then rattled off his answers. “Cade. He’s a therapy dog handler who volunteers at the hospital where I did my internship, and he works at the university rec center.” Dad let out a low, long whistle. “I approve.” I rolled my eyes again. “If you tell Mom, I’ll deny everything and tell her I’ve started dating girls.” “Your life choices don’t change how I feel about you, though your mom may be slow to come around.” “I’m not a lesbian, Dad.” “I’d love you even if you were.” “Dad.” I covered my face with my hands. “This conversation is so over.” He chuckled. “C’mon, short stack. Later, you can show me a picture of this young man or special lady in your life, that’s your choice.” I groaned. “That was meant to deter this conversation.” With another laugh, he hopped out, grabbed my suitcase from the back and unlocked the front door.

This experiential version could involve spending a day shadowing a professional you’d like to be (Take a Friend to Work Day), or a one-week unpaid exploratory project that you create, or a three-month internship (obviously, a three-month internship requires more investment and a larger commitment).

On my first day I realized why investment bankers make a lot of money: They work longer and more controlled hours than I knew humans could handle. Actually, most can’t handle it. Going home before midnight was considered a luxury, and there was a saying in the office: “If you don’t come to work on Saturday, don’t bother coming back on Sunday.” The job was intellectually stimulating, paid well, and made me feel important. But every waking second of my time became a slave to my boss’s demands, which was enough to turn it into one of the most miserable experiences of my life. It was a four-month internship. I lasted a month. The hardest thing about this was that I loved the work. And I wanted to work hard. But doing something you love on a schedule you can’t control can feel the same as doing something you hate. There is a name for this feeling. Psychologists call it reactance. Jonah Berger, a marketing professor at the University of Pennsylvania, summed it up well: People like to feel like they’re in control—in the drivers’ seat. When we try to get them to do something, they feel disempowered. Rather than feeling like they made the choice, they feel like we made it for them. So they say no or do something else, even when they might have originally been happy to go along.25 When you accept how true that statement is, you realize that aligning money towards a life that lets you do what you want, when you want, with who you want, where you want, for as long as you want, has incredible return.

The truth is that her entire job consisted of caring for others. And while she enjoyed her work for the most part, occasionally, it did get to be a bit too much. The disease, the despair, the demands of both patients and families alike. So to keep herself sane, now and then, she’d inconvenience someone. Never on anything life or death, of course. And never other staff; shitting where she ate held absolutely no appeal to her whatsoever. However, from time to time, she’d been known to drop hints about perfectly functioning elevators being out of order and the cafeteria being closed several hours before it was. Just fun, quirky things.

You wanted me here! You knew the internship would mean that I would leave this house to have my own life. That I wouldn’t be able to spend every waking moment with you!” She screams the hateful words with a shaking voice. “You did this so I could be like you. Stuck in this house without a future.

This shows up in real life when we don’t go after jobs we want because we already expect the answer to be no. We might not apply to the school we wanna go to because we think we have no chance in hell of being admitted. But what if we would have met a life helper or the love of our life there, or landed that perfect internship that would have led to the job of our dreams?

In the hood, even if you’re not a hardcore criminal, crime is in your life in some way or another. There are degrees of it. It’s everyone from the mom buying some food that fell off the back of a truck to feed her family, all the way up to the gangs selling military-grade weapons and hardware. The hood made me realize that crime succeeds because crime does the one thing the government doesn’t do: crime cares. Crime is grassroots. Crime looks for the young kids who need support and a lifting hand. Crime offers internship programs and summer jobs and opportunities for advancement. Crime gets involved in the community. Crime doesn’t discriminate.

And in Mom's necklace is the echo of their every other sacrifice—her slippers cuffing the hallway as she folds laundry, covering my chores while I studied into the night; the scar where she cut her finger chopping black chickens to nourish me during finals; Dad chauffeuring me to my clinic internship; all their worries over my med school applications. It's one thing to dance around the little controls Mom exerts on my life. Quite another to shed a hard-fought-for future of financial security and respect for our families. My parents would slit their throats for my happiness, and in return, my future is their future. I should have known better than to let myself get swept away.

Be the best you can possibly be at your career. Get good at it. Your skills might very well be the thing God uses to place you before kings. And when you are there, tell them about Jesus. Slogging your way through law school or grinding through a grueling internship might not feel godly, but it might be the very thing God uses to put you in a place where people have no choice but to listen to you. Few things adorn the gospel as much as a fervent work ethic.

Whenever there is something planned in my life—either meeting a friend, going on a school or uni trip, going for a walk, or, like today, starting an internship—when it actually comes to the day I have to go through with the plan, it goes from being something I’m excited about to something I dread.

Imagine what would happen if people cheered you on for a little stumble rather than humiliated you. Imagine how you’d approach things if you treated them as experiments, where failure would be just as valuable as success. Might you now see the game of life slightly differently? Suddenly, the stakes are lower. And suddenly, you can afford to play around a little. If your goal is to find a fulfilling career and your hypothesis is that a corporate role might be fulfilling, then your data collection process might be to sample careers through internships and job placements. With an experimental mindset, an internship that you end up hating wouldn’t be a ‘failure’ or a ‘waste of time’; it’d just be another data point to help you realise that that’s not what you want. If your goal is to build a successful business, then your data collection process might involve testing different business ideas, products or services. With an experimental mindset, a product launch that doesn’t meet expectations wouldn’t be a failure or a disaster; it’d just be another data point to help you refine your strategy and better understand your target market.

Here’s how it works, practically. Look at the major events in your life and write them down on a piece of paper. Note everything significant you can remember, even the things that seem silly or irrelevant but come to mind for some reason. Don’t try to decode the meaning; just put down everything you can think of. As you reach the end of the list, look for a common thread, some recurring theme. Can you see how one event, without any intention or planning on your part, influenced another? How that late-night trip to the diner led to meeting the love of your life? How a series of useless internships influenced your career choice? You will begin to see a theme, a surprisingly obvious thread that ties it all together. Will it be clear at first? Of course not. This is just the start. But there’s less intrigue to this process than we think. Your life, though a mystery, is trying to tell you something. Are you listening?

After all the years of med school and internship and residency and specialization, my life was about to start. I was going to have a golf membership and a six-bedroom house and a Jaguar, and a blonde wife who was very pretty and very, very useless.” Slatton, Traci L. (2011-07-12). Fallen (After Book 1) (p. 28). Parvati Press. Kindle Edition.

Josh Miller, 22 years old. He is co-founder of Branch, a “platform for chatting online as if you were sitting around the table after dinner.” Miller works at Betaworks, a hybrid company encapsulating a co-working space, an incubator and a venture capital fund, headquartered on 13th Street in the heart of the Meatpacking District. This kid in T-shirt and Bermuda shorts, and a potential star of the 2.0 version of Sex and the City, is super-excited by his new life as a digital neo-entrepreneur. He dropped out of Princeton in the summer of 2011 a year before getting his degree—heresy for the almost 30,000 students who annually apply to the prestigious Ivy League school in the hope of being among the 9% of applicants accepted. What made him decide to take such a big step? An internship in the summer of 2011 at Meetup, the community site for those who organize meetings in the flesh for like-minded people. His leader, Scott Heiferman, took him to one of the monthly meetings of New York Tech Meetup and it was there that Miller saw the light. “It was the coolest thing that ever happened to me,” he remembers. “All those people with such incredible energy. It was nothing like the sheltered atmosphere of Princeton.” The next step was to take part in a seminar on startups where the idea for Branch came to him. He found two partners –students at NYU who could design a website. Heartened by having won a contest for Internet projects, Miller dropped out of Princeton. “My parents told me I was crazy but I think they understood because they had also made unconventional choices when they were kids,” says Miller. “My father, who is now a lawyer, played drums when he was at college, and he and my mother, who left home at 16, traveled around Europe for a year. I want to be a part of the new creative class that is pushing the boundaries farther. I want to contribute to making online discussion important again. Today there is nothing but the soliloquy of bloggers or rude anonymous comments.” The idea, something like a public group email exchange where one can contribute by invitation only, interested Twitter cofounder Biz Stone and other California investors who invited Miller and his team to move to San Francisco, financing them with a two million dollar investment. After only four months in California, Branch returned to New York, where it now employs a dozen or so people. “San Francisco was beautiful and I learned a lot from Biz and my other mentors, but there’s much more adrenaline here,” explains Miller, who is from California, born and raised in Santa Monica. “Life is more varied here and creating a technological startup is something new, unlike in San Francisco or Silicon Valley where everyone’s doing it: it grabs you like a drug. Besides New York is the media capital and we’re an online publishing organization so it’s only right to be here.”[52]

I should point out that I made virtually no money teaching those courses. It was, for all purposes, a barely paid internship, and I made the most of it. I threw myself into every extracurricular activity that might help me make connections. I volunteered to organize the regional conference of the Academy of Legal Studies in Business. One of the first people I met at my first conference is still one of my most valued mentors. I wrote papers and presented research that wasn’t required of me as an adjunct. At

This would be her life, accomplishing the things her mother had never done. She never celebrated this, unlike her friends who were proud to be the first in their family to go to college or the first to earn a prestigious internship. How could she be proud of lapping her mother, when she had been the one to slow her down in the first place?

When we are young, we want to experience everything quickly. It's a time of discovery, news and adventure. The years come and then we suddenly change, we want quality and content. We start to perceive things differently. It's another moment in the journey: we learn the importance of each experience, how each event has a meaning and how this meaning connects to so many others. In this chain of cause and consequence, we realize the interconnection between all things. It is the moment of understanding. Aware of this and as the years pass, we go to internships. At a certain point, we realize the depth of things. It's a scary time. Our previous beliefs are put to the test by the complexity of reality. That moment when time stops and we begin to see beyond the surface. And life takes on a new meaning. We begin to revisit memories, spaces and places seeking a new interpretation, a new perspective and a new look, above all, at ourselves. It is the moment of Being and also of Time. A thinker once said, it is not Time that passes, it is We who pass.

I mean, they’re all brilliant, but let’s face facts, they didn’t get to where they are in life filing sales sheets at some gallery internship,” Mavette had told Raquel, before adding in a quick, “No offense.