En-GAGGED to be Marred

My roommate's (almost) fiance called me on my lunch hour today to ask me to get her out of the house tonight so that he can do something romantic and stuff for her (i. e. prepare to propose). They went to her parent's home last weekend, where he asked for her father's permission/blessing. Naturally, he got it. Anyway, so the plan is for me to work it so she's out of the house for about 30 minutes. I think he asked me because she would suspect our other roommate, but (most likely) not me.

I called up our other roommate and told her the deal and the time and asked if she was down with that. We agreed to go for ice cream at Denny's. Nothing fancy, to be sure, but it should take about a half an hour. The plan has been set in motion. The final preparation just needed to be done -- I called up the future Mrs. MyRoommate'sFiance and invited her out. My excuse? I want to celebrate my brand new grown-up job and take them both out for ice cream! Yeah! She's excited. In fact, she told me that she was going to be on campus doing homework until late, but she can be sure to be home by 10pm so we can go out. Funny thing I just remembered -- her boy usually works late on Wednesdays, so she probably thinks he's going to be at work instead of making our house all romantic and crap.

So, this should be a fun night for her. I'll be back in the programming labs as soon as we get her back home; but I'm excited to see the ring.

Locked Out

When I got to work yesterday I discovered that I was locked out of my office. I'd just like to repeat that last part: my office. That's right. I have my own office with a desk and a computer and a phone and stuff. It's great! I wish I had a window other than the one which looks out into the hallway, but you can't have it all, eh?

Work has been going incredibly well. The guys are really nice and we've had a good time getting to know each other. Yesterday was the first time I really got to know any of the guys. One guy was helping me set something up on my machine and we were just joking around, and stuff. I had just finished up some training (sexual harassment, etc) when he related a funny story. Apparently, someone at his last job had given him a promotional pen that had "Viagra" written on the side. Our boss told him explicitly that he had to get rid of it before I started working. They were worried about a potential sexual harassment issue coming up. Funny stuff. By the same token -- I have to wonder how frequently this is going to happen in my professional career. I mean, this is the first time I've been in a work environment where I am the only girl on the team. Even in my courses there is usually at least one other girl in the class. At any rate, I don't think that this is going to be an isolated case, so I might as well get used to it. Funny thing is, though, I'd rather they just treat me as one of the guys, rather than worry about coddling me because I am a woman.

Oh, a note about the team -- mostly, we're a fairly young bunch, with a few exceptions. It's pretty cool to work with people around my age, rather than being the baby of the group. I'm liking it a lot so far. Also, I think I may be the only unmarried full-time person in the group (as far as I can tell -- ring-check, etc). We have one intern, and he is unmarried, but that's about it. So, no fishing off the company dock here. Which, let's face it, is a good thing.

NewJob

Today was my first day of work at my NewJob at BigNameCompany. Not surprisingly, I can't tell you all much about it, since (a) I don't know all that much about it; and (2) the only part that I really understood in today's whirlwind orientation, etc, was: THIS IS ALL PROPRIETARY STUFF. DO NOT TALK ABOUT IT OUT SIDE OF WORK, OR EVEN IN THE CAFETERIA WHERE PEOPLE WHO DON'T HAVE SECURITY CLEARANCE ARE ALLOWED!!!!! Erm, yeah.

Work was great! It is so wonderful to have a grown-up job and stuff! They even gave me my own security badge! The best part of all of that stuff was that even though I currently have at least one unattractive zit in the middle of my face (I love stress induced break-outs...) the photo managed to pick up none. That's right kids, zippo, zero, zilch. I think it's totally unfair that all snapshots and general "let's take pictures of granola" turn out like crap, but my id photos (with the exception of my passport, where they somehow squashed my head, so I look all funky) turn out disgustingly well. Yeah, it's a curse.

In other news, my insurance really will pay for my root canal! I'm so excited! It's great. Erm, that they'll pay not for the procedure.

Banned Items and the Unfriendly Skys

When I went to the South a few weeks ago I tossed my manicure set in my bag, not really thinking about it. As I was going through the security check, however, the security monkeys thought about it. In fact, the guy there went through my whole bag looking for the scissors that they had seen in the x-ray machine. Lame. In the end, he pulled out my manicure set which contained the aforementioned scissors, a three inch metal fingernail file, two pairs of tweezers, and fingernail clippers. He opened up the set, took out the scissors, and informed me that they were banned on the airlines, and I could either mail them to myself, or he could dispose of them for me. I let him chuck them. Annoying, yes; but what really gets me is the metal fingernail file that I was allowed to keep. Quite frankly, if I were going to do something not nice on an airplane, I certainly wouldn't use manicure scissors -- what am I going to do? Trim their fingernails? Rather, I might actually be prone to use the fingernail file. That could at least do so damage. Why are people so lame sometimes?

Jerk-Face

My kid sister called me last night to ask me to lend her some money so she could fly out for my graduation. I told her 'no.' The result of that was tears. Not just I'm-upset-at-you tears, but my-heart-is-breaking-and-you-could-help-me-out tears. Through her tears she assured me that she'd pay me back. After we hung up I felt like such a jerk-face, I wanted to call her back and tell her that I would pay for her ticket, even knowing that she probably wouldn't pay me back.

Normally, I would have given her the money, but she has known when my graduation is for a long time, and had it been super important to her, she would have budgeted for it. After all, she budgeted for the unnecessary trip she's taking next weekend. Also, she has to worry about getting time off work, etc, etc, etc. All of this she could have planned for in advance, or, barring that, could make choices right now that would allow her to attend my graduation.

So, while I feel bad, it's not my fault she isn't going to be able to attend. Later, I called a different sister to vent about what a jerk I am. She reassured me that I'm not a horrible person, but geeze-louise -- I sure felt like one; and that irritates me.

Prepare to be a Better Wife and Mother

Today at church we had a lesson on how to prepare to be a better wife and mother. The teacher handed us each a piece of paper and asked us to write down some thing(s) that we can do right now in preparation. I took up my pen and wrote the biggest change I could make in that regard: "Gain a desire to be a wife and mother."

As things are right now, I have no desire to be either of those two things; but as I sat there listening to her, for the first time in I don't know how long, I actually started to feel a bit sad that I felt that way. So, who knows, maybe all of those lessons on the importance of marrying and motherhood have finally started to make a dent in my thick skull.

More likely, however, is that I talked to ExOfNote last night, and we reminisced about our relationship. Those conversations make my heart ache as I remember how close we were to actually getting married, and all the reasons we decided not to.

That line of thinking leads me down another path -- is my lack of desire to marry a direct result of having my heart broken so badly? Or, is it from thinking that I could marry him, but deciding not to? I don't know, actually.

Yes, I'm Checking YOU Out

It's currently 6:30 on a Friday night, and instead of being out on a hot date, I'm sitting in the programming lab, hoping that the evil spirits that inhabit my computer are out on hot dates. However, I just got back to the lab after running home for a bite to eat. As I was walking back to campus I chatted on the phone with my mom briefly, then hung up and put the phone away. Finishing up that rather rote and bland task I looked up to see that the only other person around was walking towards me. Additionally, he was hot. Not warm: hot. Undeniably-take-your-breath-away-so-far-out-of-any-league-I-could-ever- hope-to-be-in hot. If my morals we a little lower I would have jumped him right there and dragged him into the bushes for some serious making-out. He was also looking right at me, smiling. I smiled back, and he asked me how I was doing, I replied that I was doing well, and inquired as to his health. He replied that he was doing well, as well; and we each continued on to our destinations (mine: obviously campus, his: most likely home to get ready for some hot date).

I smiled to myself as I trugged up the hill from the tennis courts, wondering why on earth he had that 'I'm checking you out' look on his face. Mentally, I did a checklist of the stunning attire I am wearing today. Allow me to fill you in (toe to head):

*Flip-flops
*Jeans that are way too long, when I walk the hem extends past my toes. (I have trouble finding anything that is short enough)
*A t-shirt. Not just any t-shirt, though. My Boston concert tee from their 1987 U.S. Tour. It'd be a collectible if it weren't so thrashed and threadbare.
*An oversized flannel shirt. Brown and black plaid, actually. No, it doesn't remotely match the red/yellow/blue of the Boston tee.
*And, lastly, a black canvas bag, worn across the chest, right shoulder to left hip in true granola fashion.

Sexy, no?
It couldn't possibly be my sex-kitten steaminess.

The answer eluded me, until I reached the glass doors of the vestibule leading into the building in which the computer labs are housed: the strap of my canvas bag was sitting in exactly the right place to accentuate some of my finer features. So, while I like to believe that the men on this campus are a little less shallow than men in the rest of society, it is still nice to know that a good pair is good for something. Unless, of course, he just likes a girl who lacks fashion sense. In which case, he's better off looking elsewhere. I know I clash, I did it consciously.

Corporate America Rocks!

Today as I was filling out my paperwork in preparation for starting my NewJob with BigNameCompany I happened across the information regarding my benefits package. It becomes affective the day I start! Woo Hoo! Which is good news because of my impending root canal two days after I start work. Come on, now, I know you're jealous.

In other news, I think I may be too diligent in linking to previous posts. Just the other day I spent hours making sure all references were not only linked back to the first mention of them on my blog, but also making sure said links worked. Sometimes I think it's all in vein -- how many people actually reading my blog follow the links anyway? -- but, other times I'm glad I did it so that I can find them.

Step 1: Admit You Have a Problem

Mid-summer last year I was lucky enough to need a crown put on one of my teeth. That was a fun experience, and if I had an issue with brushing my teeth, it would have cured me instantly. Sadly, I brush, floss, and mouthwash daily, so I had nothing to improve upon.

For the past two weeks that self-same tooth has been rather hot/cold sensitive, so, I called up my dentist and made an appointment for today. They took a look at it, and concluded two things: (1) I needed a root canal; and (2) the stupid popping in my jaw that I had mentioned could be mitigated by not chewing gum! I don't know which is worse news, as I'm a huge gum addict. Ok, it's probably the root canal, since I currently don't have dental insurance. I'm hoping that my health plan at BigNameCompany will kick in my first day of work, otherwise, I get to sink (yet another) $750+ into my infernal mouth. That, coupled with the $2000 I already spent last summer getting a whole ton of work done, means that I'm going to have the most expensive mouth on the block, and I don't even have any 'bling-bling' going on in there! Admittedly, it's money well spent, but, still...it's money I don't currently have to spend.

Punk Rock Princess

On Saturday I heard a song entitled "Punk Rock Princess" by Something Corporate. I like the song, but know nothing of the band. Any thoughts anyone? Should I spend the 10 bucks and risk hating every song but that one? Or, will it be a brilliant purchase?

Ding! Ding! Ding! We Have a Winner!

I called up the HRGuy from BigNameCompany yesterday and gave them my answer -- I've decided to start working there. If I hate it in three months, I'll go work for SuperStores.

This weekend wasn't a total waste, though: I learned that I'm a mountain girl through and through. I guess that shouldn't come as much of a surprise, all things considered.

Big City

Last night at the movies I met a really nice guy. He was really quiet, but very friendly when I spoke with him. He has an interesting story -- he is the first person in his family to actually go to college. They are all "hill people" (as he called them). I told him that I thought it was great that he was going to college and pursuing an education. I think he is a little ashamed of himself for departing from what his family has done for so long. He's also (currently) the only member of the Church in his family. He joined about three years ago, from what I can tell.

Anyway he’s a nice, quiet, guy. About twenty minutes into our conversation he said (with a big thick southern drawl, naturally), "You'd have to understand hill people. It's our way." I laughed, and said, "Oh, I do understand 'hill people.'" I could tell he didn't believe me. In fact, at that moment I realized that he considered me to be too "big city" for him. The funny thing is, that's the first time in my life that I have ever been rejected (not that I was planning on making any moves on him, but he was preemptively rejecting me) for being too sophisticated ("big city"). Funnier still, was the fact that I immediately wanted to tell him my whole life story, and where I came from, and reassure him that I was once a poor little country girl. Funnier than all of that, is the fact that I have worked my butt off for the last seven years trying to take the country out of this girl, and getting myself to the point where people think that I come from a normal middle-class urban upbringing.

It is such a strange dichotomy. I mean, my family was poor growing up, but I was fortunate enough to have parents who saw to it that we got as classical of an education as they could give us. Mom introduced us to Shakespeare, and e. e. cummings, while Dad inspired our minds with Handle and Mozart. We were taught table manners and mathematics. They equipped us with all of the tools they could give us to get out of the country. And, I did. Why am I ashamed of my past? It has molded me into the person I am. We are, after all, the sum of our experiences, nothing more, and certainly, nothing less.

At the end of the day, however, I have made myself too big city for some hill boy down in the Deep South, and it’s a strangely bitter-sweet moment. I'm trying to decide if it's better to be rejected because my family didn't have any money, or to be rejected because someone assumes that they do.

Day 1 In The Deep South

I come to you from the Deep South today. It has been quite a unique experience for me, thus far. I flew into SomeBigCity, and drove two hours to TheMiddleOfNoWhere. This trip really had only two ways it could work out, as far as personally: (1) I could totally hate it, and be all alone the whole weekend; or (2) It could be cool.

I decided to try option 2. So, I looked up the local student institute on the Church's Web site and emailed the director. He put me in touch with the Institute President, who found me a place to stay with some girls in the branch. When I got into TheMiddleOfNoWhere I called up my hostess, she gave me directions to her house, and then there I was. I spent the whole day hanging out with her and her fiancé, as well as a roommate and her fiancé, and practically the whole branch! We went and watched The Work and The Glory. It wasn't bad, basically, a cute love story.

Tomorrow, apparently, is the branch Variety/Talent Show, and a Skeet Shoot. I've been invited to both. So, who knows what I'm going to do. Alack!

When in Doubt: Blame Your Girlfriend

On my way to campus today a friend of mine saw me walking and offered me a ride. I opened the car door to get in and he asked where I was headed. I told him, then got in the car and closed the door. As we pulled away from the curb I heard an interesting sound -- the radio. Not normally a feature of note, I thought it extremely funny that my Deaf friend would be listening to the radio. I started to laugh, and pointed it out. "Oh?" He asked, "It's on?" "Yeah. Why?" "It must be my girl-friend's." Ahh... Yeah, turns out his girlfriend isn't deaf. We drove on, signing to each other while I laughed to myself.

By the way, if you ever have the opportunity to ride in a car with someone going fairly high speeds whilst carrying on a conversation in sign language feel free to skip it. Or, maybe he's just a scary driver. Who knows, really?

Yes, We ARE In University

Random girl looking for the stockroom worker: Do you know where she is?

Me: She's out on an errand, but should be back soon.

Her: What's an 'errand'?

Me: The word or what she's doing?

Her: The word.

Me: Um... She doing something that isn't here.

The Gods Hate Me

I'm fully convinced some things are done just to irk me.

Today, for example (are you really surprised?), I had to buy some cloth from the campus paper stockroom for my bookbinding class. In order to do that, I had to have money on in my student account, accessible only via my student id. To do that, I had to make a payment with my credit card, which I can do online, only. So, after my first class I went to a computer lab, logged in to eighteen different things (ok, only two, but still...), and made a payment. Then, I logged out of it all, and hurried to another building. I had to buy the cloth before heading down to work, and I happened to be lacking the desire to be late.

When I got to the stockroom the worker was nowhere to be seen. The sign said she was on an errand. Ok. So I waited. There were three girls in line ahead of me. They told me she had been gone for a while. Well, that usually means that it was a long errand, but it also means that she's probably just about finished. So I continued to wait. The girls got tired of doing so, and left. I waited alone. Five or so minutes later they returned with a stockroom worker in tow. She helped them, and then some other girl who had come in just as she was helping them all out. I got up to the window, and asked for two feet of black cloth. She turned around and looked at the bolt of black cloth, and then informed me that she was really not working and was just helping these girls out, and the girl who was supposed to be working was on her lunch break, but would be back soon, and could I wait, since cutting cloth takes a bit? Really, what option did I have? So, I said, 'fine.' and sat back down to wait.

Ten minutes later some other girl comes in to the stockroom area, I said, 'it shouldn't be that much longer.' She decided to leave. As she was walking out the door the worker ran into her and asked if she needed to buy something. They did that, and finally it was my turn, again. I asked the girl to please give me two feet of the black cloth. She turned, and looked at that same stupid bolt of black cloth, then asked me, 'Does it have a code?' How the heck am I supposed to know?! You're the one who works here, remember? 'Um, I don't know. There's no price on the price board, but...' She came out, looked, and said, 'See, we have to have a code issued from the department, and we're out of this old black, and we don't have the new code for the new black fabric. So, we really don't have any to sell.' Nice.

All-in-all, I waited for 25 minutes (10 of which were the fault of the stupid girl who didn't want to help me, and couldn't be bothered to tell me that they couldn't sell me any because of the departmental red tape), and ended up being late to work anyway.

Oh, did I mention that I needed that fabric to finish binding something that is due in class tonight. Yeah. I'm screwed.

Letter to the Editor

Admittedly, I live in a bubble. There is no getting around it. People here have a completely different reality than the rest of the world. That is, however, no excuse for being completely stupid (or, oblivious to the rest of the world, for that matter).

Today as I was reading the letters to the editor in The Daily Uni-farce I couldn't help but be incensed at the stupidity of my fellow woman. The following comes from the letter (only a few sentences have been edited out, mostly because the didn't pertain to the topic at hand) that raised my ire (oh, and in case you miss it, my comments are in italics):

Equality v. equity
This is to all who've been on a feminist kick lately....

And (sic)(Please, allow me to begin this sentence, nay paragraph, with the word 'And,' thus demonstrating my superior command on the English language.) the complaint about men getting more money than women do in the workforce, do you know why women get paid less than men? Actually, yes, I do. It's leftover from the mentality that declares men need more money to support their families, and women are just going into the workforce to supplement their husband's income. Partially true, perhaps, but not always, and certainly not a justifiable excuse to start women out at a lower pay scale. I had an economics professor tell the class that it is because women tend to work part-time, thus getting paid less than men. Ahh! Your econ. professor. I'm sorry, I didn't realize that our professors' every utterance and opinion is gospel. In fact, now that you mention it, I had a professor tell the class that if we didn't get the concept that he was presenting the first time, then perhaps "physical education is a better major for [us]." So, I suppose that I should have just quit trying to get it, and changed my major. Oh, and, I had a professor tell me (yes, me, not the class) that I should marry ExOfNote. We broke up three months later. Good advice. Now, I'm not anti-feminist. The jury is still out on this one. I wasn't raised to be one by any means. That warms my heart. I'm glad you were raised to be tolerant. However, I don't want to be equal to a man. Um, the verdict is in. You may not be anti-feminist, but you are certainly anti-progression. Wait, I've changed my mind: you're right. My roommate is black. I'm not racist or anything, but I don't think she should be equal to white people. (ARE YOU A FREAKING MORON???)

For example, you have a 10-year-old in the back seat along with a 300 lbs. football player. Why the football player is in the back seat is anybody's guess. If you go to Burger King and buy six Whoppers, does it make sense to give each 3 (sic) whoppers (sic)? Of course not. Good point, now, let me try one. You have two equally skilled people starting work at your company. One is the sole supporter of a family, the other is single and has no one economically dependent upon them. Does it make sense that they should make the same amount? Of course not. Let's try another one. You have two equally skilled people starting work at your company. One is male, the other is female. Does it make sense that they should make the same amount? Of course not.

It's all about equity, not always about equality. Please, quit thinking that women are so underprivileged. I agree with this point. For the most part neither gender is underprivileged, and people do tend to blow those distinctions way out of proportion. However, it does happen, and it needs to not. For example, at both SuperStores and BigNameCompany I have been offered a bit less than the men I know who are working for these companies. Now, I can kick and scream all the way to the bank, or I can get in there and prove that I'm just as good as those men, and when the time comes, demand a more comparable pay rate. I'll be much happier devoting my time to raising my children than caring that if I were (Well, at least you got this one right. Props. Most people say 'was') in the workforce, my husband might be making more money than me (sic). Until he dies in a tragic car wreck (or you divorce, or he becomes disabled, or a myriad of other things that you're not immune from), and you become the women in my above "mock" scenario. (Additionally, I'm going to avoid pointing out that you ended your argument with one of, perhaps, the most grating grammatical errors. It should be 'I.' I'll save you the effort of double checking that, and just reassure you that I had a professor tell the class that once. No, I've changed my mind. I'm going to point it out.)

A Married Woman Who Thinks Her Husband Will Always Be Around to Care for Her
Albuquerque N.M. (I'm kind of surprised this sort of anti-progressionism would come out of New Mexico, but you never can tell)

And (Feel free to not comment on how I started this with an 'And.' I know I did. It was intentional. If it still bothers you, go look up the meaning of irony.), she strikes another blow for the feminists out there! All hail our champion!

I Don't Wanna Be a Grown-up!

I've decided that my biggest problem with choosing between SuperStores and BigNameCompany is simple: I don't want to be a grown-up and make grown-up decisions. Basically, I'm scared out of my shorts, and don't know how to deal with it. All my life I've made choices by default.

When it came time to apply to universities I applied to two. The first one because my mother made me, even though I had no intentions of ever going there. (I think she just wanted to make sure I had options. Ironically enough.) The second I only applied to because someone encouraged me, and it was a good school. After I got my acceptance letter I didn't apply to any other university, despite being heavily recruited by a university that would have given me a full-ride. Stupid. Stupid. However, I didn't have to make a choice. It was done for me. Well, that's not true. I made the easiest choice possible.

It's the same with the SuperStores vs. BigNameCompany debate. Once I was offered the job with SuperStores I pretty much quit even thinking about where else to apply. I applied to Micro$oft purely by accident. My resume was on the campus recruiting Web site, they saw it, and asked me in for an interview. I applied to BigNameCompany because my friend did all the work for me. Now, I have to choose. Can you tell this is consuming my life right now? Yeah, I didn't think so, either.

Learn by Listening

Sometimes I don't realize what I think or feel about a certain topic until I open my mouth and start speaking. I find it happens more frequently than maybe it should. I find I learn a lot about myself by listening to what I'm saying on the subject. I guess it's because once I have to put something into words I have to solidify the thought or feeling in order to fully communicate what I want to say.

Tonight I came home from a church activity and said to roommate, who had been at the same event, "Did you see my Secret Boyfriend's new piercing?" "Yes, I did." "Is it totally bad, do you think," I tentatively inquired "that I really like it?" No comment one way or the other. I think she meant to say: "Yes." Instead she asked, "When did he become your Secret Boyfriend?" Oh. Did I call him that? I mentally rewound the conversation, sure enough, I had. "I guess Monday, when I first saw his new piercing. I really like it." So there we have it. I guess DrummerBoy is my new Secret Boyfriend. He's so cute. And the pierced eyebrow is totally hot.

Trump Card

I have cello lessons every Saturday at my teacher's house. I also have no car. Fortunately, my cello case has wheels and shoulder straps so I can wear it like a backpack. I also am lucky enough to be the proud owner of a bus pass. Thus, every Saturday morning I grab my cello and head to the bus stop. Sometimes I pull my cello, fully utilizing the wheels, and other times I wear it on my back (if the ground is uneven, or gross). Today I was wearing it. As I approached the bus stop a man interrupted my phone conversation (yes, I am one of those people who talk on the phone in public, but I try not to be rude about it) to ask if I was carrying a guitar or a bass. "Neither," I politely informed him, "it's a cello." "Oh! Yeah, yeah! Of course! If it was (sic) a bass you couldn't carry it like that." "Nope." I figured that would be the end of that, as I still had the phone to my ear. Ignoring that detail he continued, "How many strings does it have?" Is this a quiz or something, just making sure I know the finer details of my instrument? "Four." (Holding up four fingers.) He kept wanting to talk to me, I kept wanting to talk to my mother. She hung up. We do that. Clearly she wasn't going to be talked to for a while, so why stay on the line. I do it to her, too.

He then asked me if I could play it. No, I just like to carry it around to look cool. "Yes." "Take it out and play for me?" Uh, no. Do you realize where we are? That's right, we're standing on the side of the busiest street in town waiting for a bus which is going to be here any moment. Additionally, you do know that I have to sit to play the cello (we just discussed this). And, lastly, I simply don't feel like it right now. I'm going to be playing for an hour, and I'm not sure I'm in tune, and I don't want to tune so I can play a little ditty for you. "Uh, sorry. I'd rather not. The bus is going to be here anytime." Is what I really said. He asked me again. I gave him the exact same answer. His reply was this: "Yes, I'm a black man. I play the bass. I went to college. And, I can add one plus one." Huh?! What does that have to do with the price of tea in China? So, I responded as best one can in a situation like that: I just stared at him. I guess he realized that I wasn't going to apologize for my blatant bigotry (what?!?!) and, perhaps, what a lame statement that was, because he then said, "I'm sorry, I've had a bad day. You didn't deserve that." Still a bit in shock from his horrifically false accusation I said nothing. He turned and slunk away.

What I really wanted to say was, "Yeah? And, I'm a white girl, who never went to college. And I can't read. What does that change?" Clearly many of the above statements are false, but give me a break! I don't care if you're purple, yellow, orange, violet, or puke green! It doesn't change my lack of desire to open up my case, set up my cello, tune the thing, and then play (not to mention finding a place to sit!) for you, only so I can put it all away super fast when the bus pulls up so I don't get left behind!

Why do some people think that they can play the race card whenever something isn't going the way they want? I don't go around claiming that everything that doesn't go my way is a direct result of my gender! I could. I could have told him that I didn't feel like playing because I felt that the only reason he was asking me was because I am a woman and he wanted to control me as a result of some sick sexual fantasy he had going on. I didn't. You know why? Because up until the moment that I told him I wasn't going to play for him and he accused me of being a prejudice slime-ball, we were just two musicians talking about our instruments. Albeit, one of us really wanted to be talking to her mommy about the Great SuperStores vs. BigNameCompany Debate.

I suppose as long as there are people in this world who assume everything is a race or gender or disability or height or weight thing there will be people like me who get annoyed at them. Personally, I'm an equal opportunity offender. If I don't like you it has nothing to do with any of the above "issues" and maybe a bit to do with your personality, and your opinion that everything in this world is about those "issues." Get over yourself already. I don't think more or less of you based on those factors. I think less of you for making them an issue in your life. Why don't those types of people try to make their issue (for they have made it an issue) a strength rather than a perceived weakness? They'd go much further in life if they could say, "Yes, I'm a woman in a technological field, and I think it's a wonderful strength because I can add a different perspective on challenges." Rather than "Yes, I'm a woman in a technological field and the men never take me seriously because of that. I also never get paid the same, and people hate me. Because I'm a woman!" It is what you make of it. And he will probably always be treated worse because of his reaction and attitude. Not because of the color of his skin.

Drain

I've decided that when I am building my grown-up house I'm going to make sure at least one of the washrooms is completely tiled (a la every public school washroom you have ever seen), or otherwise water-proof. Additionally, it will be equipped with sloping floors and a drain in the center of the room. That way when I have children who feel the need to get dirty we can just take them into the washroom, turn on the sprayer that will be affixed to the shower-head, and spray, spray, spray until they are mostly relieved of their dirt. Then, I can turn the sprayer on the washroom, and not have to clean up anything. Additionally, it could be cleaned by spraying the room with bleach, let sit, and then rinsing. Rugs, bath mats, and dogs can all be cleaned in the same fashion. Brilliant! (The proverbial) They should let me design practical yet aesthetically pleasing homes.

I'm So Funny!

I met up with a friend of mine today to grab a bite to eat and tell her all about my current employment conundrum. As we were walking across campus we heard a bugle announce that the Star Spangled Banner was about to start playing. So, we stopped, turned, and paid appropriate respect as the ROTC lowered the American Flag.

It's almost surreal to stand on campus at 5:35pm. The vast majority of people stop in their tracks and cover their heart with their right hand. Invariably, though, a few individuals don't stop because they are in a hurry, are international and thus fail to see the point, or just don't feel like it. These moments are almost cinematic, the whole world stops, except the main characters who break-out in song-and-dance, etc.

Today as we were thus standing a friend of mine, who happens to be non-American, non-Caucasian hurried by. "Dude! PotentiallyRacialProfilingNameThatReallyIsHisName, show a little respect!" He glanced over at me, took note of who I was, smiled, laughed, did the head-nod thing, and kept hustling to wherever he was headed, saying as he went, "Hey, Granola!" My American friend who had witnessed the whole thing started laughing. "Oh!" She declared, relieved, "I'm so glad you know him!"

The recorded orchestra finished the final strains of the song, and I burst out laughing uncontrollably. "I'm so funny!" I declared triumphantly. Yes, I believe I may be just that.

Decisions, decisions

Well, BigNameCompany just called me an offered me the job. Ack! Why couldn't they have turned me down? Then I wouldn't have any choice to make. Fortunately, I think, I bought tickets to go the check out the area that SuperStores is in, you know, see if I like the place, and go house hunting, etc. So, now I'm stuck going out there, which is a good thing, because this may cement my opinion of the area, and if I really want to live/work there. The hard part is, BigNameCompany offered me (notably) more than SuperStores, so it should just be a wash, oughtn't it? Anyway, I was really honest with BigNameCompany and told them that I was entertaining another offer, and was planning on visiting their site next weekend, and could I let them know then? They said 'sure.' So, basically, I have to choose! Could someone just tell me the right choice so I can get on with my life? Thanks so much.