What You Can't Have

"You know why you're fixated on her?"

"No, why?" the question was more of a challenge. "All right, Ms. Psychology, analyze me," his tone said.

"Because you can't have her. You're so used to getting any woman you want that when on comes along that doesn't throw herself at you then you find her irresistible."

"I don't get any woman I want!" he countered. "I haven't had sex since moving out here!"

We went on to argue that he hadn't slept with anyone, not because he couldn't, but because he really didn't want to.

As much as he protests initially, Bill is always fascinated by my observations. I'm glad I am the only one obsessively psychoanalyzing me (well, at least that I know about).

So Over This

Sunday night Bill picked me up from the airport. We were talking and joking and joking and talking. He made some insinuation about me wanting a piece of him. This is not an uncommon assertion, and has kind of become a reoccurring theme in our relationship. As I was listening to what he was saying I had an epiphany, "Oh," I told him, indicating his general person by waving my hand at him, palm out in the 'wax on' motion, "I'm so over this."

"Oh, you are, are you?"

"Yup," I replied with honest casualty, "unrequited lust is only fun for so long."

And, you know what? While it's not entirely true (if he confessed his undying love for me tonight I wouldn't send him packing), it's partially true. I'm monumentally less jealous of him going on dates than I used to be. And, I think, generally my heart has begun to accept what my brain has known all along—it's never going to happen.

Stupid Peer Pressure

I caved and joined yet another social network. Mostly (ok, almost exclusively) because of my friend from work. I'm letting everyone believe it was peer pressure.

The thing that bothers me is, I'm already sort of addicted. Lame.

Relative

I am continually baffled when I learn my ranking in people's list of friends. I suppose I must rank my friends at some level (even if it's just subconsciously). Some people are more obviously ranked (Bill is pretty much #1 these days, in case you missed that memo). Spazz ranks pretty high on that list, too. But people's general order and ranking is amazingly fluid—I spend time with a lot of people, but I don't have that many super close friends.

Today I was waking with Spazz when she told me that I'm her closest friend in Seattle. I was more than a little surprised. In thinking about it, it sort of makes sense, but I would have thought her other friend who she knew when she moved out here would have ranked higher than I.

I don't think I lack confidence, so why am I surprised when people esteem me higher than I thought they would?

North Dakota vs 'Rowe v. Wade'

North Dakota—are you trying to set the feminist movement back 50 years?

This isn't a pop quiz, and the answer is 'yes.'

With the passing of the anti-abortion bill in the state House, North Dakota is hoping to challenge Rowe v. Wade in court.

It's more than just a matter of "my body, my choice" and very much a matter of women's rights. I can only hope the Senate rejects this bill. The damage that it could possibly do to women's rights moving forward is shocking and tragic. If you live in North Dakota, can you please call your Senator right. now. and tell them that this is a very important issue, and ask them to please vote 'no.'

I shall end this post there so you can make the call before Senate goes into session.

Status, More than Just a Number

At most companies employees are ranked in levels. InternetCompany is no exception. Most everyone starts out as a level 1 and tops out at a level 3. There are lots of different promotion paths, but, basically, if you're in the same job, you work your way up through the levels.

I am currently still a level 1. It's not awesome, and I honestly think that my opportunity for promotion was stolen from me at my last review. The combination of poor managers and stupid mistakes and stupider responses all managed to land me still at a level 1, but with all the joy and pain of a level 2. I should also mention that there is no way on this earth that I'm getting a promotion this go 'round. Why? Because my goals sucked and nothing is really promotable in them. On the plus side, my boss chatted with me at my last one on one about getting things in motion for working my way to a promotion next year. Why next year and not at the mid-year mark? I have no idea. Oh, wait, probably because he has absolutely no idea what I actually do.

But, all that aside.

I was talking to one of my devs this evening (I should pause here to note he's the only level 3 on our team, and quite respected by everyone, myself included). He motioned for me to come into his cube, and then, lowering his voice into a conspiratorial whisper said, "I was writing your review last week and noticed that you're just a level one?" There was an italics around the number, and the question mark.

"Yup," I responded in equally lowered tones.

"The f--k?" he asked point blankly. Not one to swear, and certainly not one to swear in italics, I think we all get his point. "From what you do, and from how much you help other people do their work, and how you talk, I can't believe you're just a level one."

We talked about it briefly, and he asked me what he, and the other devs, could do to help ensure that gets remedied as quickly as possible. I really appreciate his recognition, and his offer. To be frank, I hope that all my reviews from all the devs were that positive that my boss has no option but to give me a promotion. I doubt it. But, it certainly would be nice.

At the end of the day, I really do appreciate being appreciated it. And, it's good to know that other people see the work I do and value it, even if my boss has no idea.

Org-wide Initiative

Last week we were made aware of an ill thought out organization-wide initiative which literally paused all work for two weeks while we have a fire drill. Said effort was set to begin Monday. As of today things are finally falling into place. Well, falling into place for everyone by the QA groups.

My dev team had a meeting at 3:30-4:30. I asked the dev manager if he had any insight into what was going on. No, I was told. Do you? The best I could tell him was earlier I walked by an office where my boss and the qa leads who report directly to him where locked in a room, and from the sounds of it, in heated discussion. I assumed we'd find out more sometime Thursday.

When I got back to my desk I had a meeting request, and a missed call. The missed call was from my boss. He wanted me to call him back. Tonight. And, if I couldn't reach him at his desk, I was to try his cell, anytime tonight. I was, understandably concerned. It seems that he holds little regard for the work I do, and interacts with me as infrequently as possible.

I called his desk.

He wasn't there, so I tried his cell. He answered.

At this point I shall pause and tell you what I expected to hear. I expected that he was going to rehash what was going on (check); tell me that my dev team wasn't doing much for this effort (true, and check); inform me that I was going to have to do the testing for the other team I've been partially lent out to (check); and that was about it. Mostly, I assumed this was a courtesy call because the last time he assigned me work with this other team it was poorly communicated and I may have reacted quite negatively (in my defense, I was feeling stressed, and had just learned that my cousin-nephew had died, and I was being told that I was supposed to be doing this testing by someone else who was asking me for my status update—it wasn't pretty).

As he was communicating these points to me I agreed. When he got to the "test the other team's stuff" I said, "of course, naturally." To indicate that I understood, and wasn't going to make a big deal about it.

Then, the twist ending sprang upon me. "And," he said, "I'd like you to head drive this from the QA side of things. I have seen you take care of things, and I really think you can drive this and get everything taken care of, and get people to do their part." Oh, wow. Sure. Frankly, it's nice to know that he actually sees my work as something valuable. Honestly, I've worried that my performance review was not going to be pretty, and that he was just biding his time to get rid of me. I don't really think that he's seen my efforts himself, what I do think, though, is that he's seen the reviews that my peers have written (we're in the midst of that joy right now) and is (finally) going to take the positive things written about me at face value. Thank you. Very Much.

I'm quite pleased with this.

The Florist

"Our beloved grandson passed away this morning." The words seeped off the screen and settled heavily on my heart. The email was from an aunt and uncle and was about my cousin's son who was born with a heart condition. My cousin-nephew was 18, and had endured more surgeries than Cher. Through it all he had kept his sunny disposition. His death, though a sad loss, was not a surprise. In a way, it might be seen as a welcome release.

Though the obituary asked for memorandums to be made to a bank account, I decided that a small bouquet of flowers would be far more personal. Snubbing my nose at those major flower distributors, I searched for a florist local to their city and placed the call.

"I'd like to send an arrangement," I told the nice older lady who answered the phone (probably the owner). "Do you have any Bird of Paradise?" I asked, hoping that they wouldn't charge me what I feared they would for a small arrangement of this classy and not over done flower.

"No, I'm sorry, we don't," she said regrettably, "they're super expensive, and it's Valentine's week, so they're even more expensive and nearly impossible to find."

"Oh, that's ok," I said, "well, um," I didn't have a back up flower selected, "I need to send flowers because someone just died. So, something classy, please. Oh, and no roses." She might have thought I was just being cheap. That wasn't it at all. Roses: way over done.

We talked about things, I dictated the card, and then got back to flowers. I told her what I wanted to spend, then she started making suggestions. "I think I'll put in this kind of flower, and that kind of flower." The both sounded ok, so I agreed. "And, I'll put in a sunflower." Before I could say, 'um, less on the sunflower' (I think they're way over done, especially in religious funeral arrangements. Looking forward, new life and all that.) she continued, "they've always really spoken to me, kind of giving hope and looking forward. They're my favorite flower." Ok, I was officially stuck. Looks like a sunflower was going in. "That sounds great." I said, thanking her. We finished up the transaction and I returned to my desk, slightly terrified that it was going to be a harvest bouquet of sunflowers and Gerber daisies. Beautiful flowers in their own rights, but not the feeling I was looking for.

The next day I got an email from my aunt thanking me for the flowers. Or, more correctly, "We've heard all about the lovely sunflower arrangement with a bird in it that you sent." Um, what? I triple read that. A sunflower arrangement with a bird in it? Oh, hells no! There is no way on Earth that I can possibly recover from that. I can only hope that the arrangement was salvaged by removing the bird. What. the. Hell?

Saved By The...

Social Network?

It was an hour after I had climbed in bed. 30 minutes after I last looked at the clock. I was pretty certain I was asleep. Well, I wasn't certain I was asleep until I was no longer sleeping.

My phone was ringing. I glanced at the caller id. My girlfriend from work, Spazz, was calling. The only reason she would be calling at that hour would be an emergency. I was instantly awake. "Hello?"

"Brisk's girlfriend just left him," she panickedly told me.

"What?" I asked.

"His girlfriend just left him. And he updated his status on <h;random social networking site> to 'too bad suicide is so permanent.' And now he's not answering his phone."

My heart started pounding. This, I'm pretty certain, I could not handle. I tried his phone, decided to try his home phone (which I thought I had—turns out I didn't), and finally had her call him again. He answered. He promised to not do anything stupid. Spazz worried that she shouldn't have called. That he didn't want anyone to call. The (former) psych major in me stepped up to the plate: "People who are actually going to kill themselves don't update their social networking statuses. It was a cry for help." "Ok, but should I have called?" "He has only 2 friends on this social site. Yes, you should have called. He needed to know that someone was out there. That someone loves him." Sometimes having been a psych major helps me through life. This was one of those times.

Amazingly, Brisk showed up at work today. When I saw him at our afternoon break he was crying. I offered him a hug and he said it would only make him cry more.

We decided to take him out and get him very drunk. I know, the irony of me participating in this activity is not lost on anyone. But, when the only friends you have are people you know from video gaming, and the three people at work who don't really care about your flaws and oddly, inexplicably, love you anyway? Sometimes the super religious person has to just suck it up and go to the bar with you. He couldn't go out tonight, so we promised him that tomorrow we'd go.

Chatting with Cyclist post-break he indicated that he didn't feel that we should be the ones stepping up here. "Um," I told him, "we're kind of his only friends. It's exactly our place to be stepping up here." If not us, who?

Also, who every thought a stupid social networking site would be the cry for help?

Also, also, I've been resisting joining this stupid site. Now, I think I might have to.

Share and Share Alike

I spent a great deal of last night coughing, and I think I may have a cold. Which I may have given to Bill. When I mentioned to him that he will probably be coming down with something he was confused, "Why?"

"Remember that one time that we drink after each other and eat off of Granola's plate?" I asked, subtly referring to a million times before, as well as dinner last night.

"Oh yeah, that," he replied sheepishly.

"Sorry I got you sick, and not the fun way."

The Woman For Him

I was sharing with Bill my thoughts on He's Just Not That Into You. After listening to my explanation Bill confessed, "You know, Granola, I'm starting to think you might be right. You might just be the right woman for me. You're the most sane woman I know."

I laughed, "Yeah, I know. Too bad you're not attracted to me."

In looking back, I wonder what would have happened had I not said anything and just kept my mouth shut.

Fact of the matter? He's not attracted to me. And, I'm not the exception. He's never going to be attracted to me. Tragically, I still wish. How illogical is that?

No, He Really Isn't

It seems that every group of women I hang out with wants to see He's Just Not That Into You. I've seen it twice now. It was ok the first time, and worse the second. I have to see it a third because I promised my co-workers I'd go with her.

Just to get this out of the way: Major SPOILER ALERT follows.

Why didn't I like it? The movie started out strong, and presented an interesting premise: every woman wants to believe she's the exception to the rule; that if she does just the right things the man she is dating (or hopes to date) will suddenly change and things will all work out. The girl who is dating the guy for 7 years and won't marry her? Yeah, he's not going to. This is a theme I could get behind. Yes! Let's finally sell women the truth. And, then, in the end, they totally flipped it around, and everyone woman became the exception. The guy who had been living with the girl for 7 years finally proposed, etc, etc, etc. What a load of crap.

The fact of the matter is: we're all the rule. Exceptions are rare, and, statistically, you're not it. Suck it up, get over it, accept it, embrace it, learn from it, and move on. Tragically, Hollywood continues to lie to women and tell them just what they want to hear—you are the exception.

Valentine's Day

In an interesting turn of events I managed to end up with a Valentine's Day date, while the decidedly better looking Bill failed to scare one up. I had tickets to the symphony and offered them up to him first. I assumed he'd turn me down, and so was only mildly disappointed when he did. But, as the big day approached and neither of us had dates, I wondered if he'd change his mind. He didn't.

I ended up going with a guy from church. He's an interesting guy, but way too conservative for me. He totally fails the three date rule.

Employee Pricing Plus Plus

Dodge has announced their latest sale price: Employee Pricing, Plus, Plus. They go on to explain that this means you get the employee price plus some discount plus some other discount. This might make sense to the average human. To this geek the deal doesn't sound that impressive. Allow me to explain why, perhaps too thoroughly.

When programming if you want to increment a number by one you use the increment operator: ++. Which is pronounced 'plus plus'. So, while Dodge wants you to think 'wow, I get employee pricing plus two more great discounts!' I thought, 'So I get to pay more than the employee price? I'm not sure why you would want to advertise that.'

I may just be a bigger geek than initially believed.

Yoga

A girl I know was described recently as 'practicing yoga'. She hastily corrected the speaker, "I wouldn't say I 'practice' yoga. I do it occasionally, but not enough to say I practice it." When she was asked why she made such a distinction she explained that she has this paranoia which prevents her from doing it too much. When asked to explain that phobia she told us the following: "Everyone I know who has quit yoga has done so for the same reason. Farting. Or fear of farting."

This seemed like an interesting reason. Upon further reflection I thought about the quiet room and letting one rip, but, I mentally reasoned, it's not that hard to not pass gas.

Then, I took a yoga class. Yeah, totally valid fear. The room is all quiet, everyone is focusing on their own breathing, and you're twisted up like a pretzel, frequently with your butt in the air.

My first class was nearly my disastrously last. I made it through with a new perspective, and an increased respect for yoga practitioners.

I still go.

Pass the Tinfoil, Please

I try to keep my paranoid rantings to myself, but ever since the US announced the new RFID passport caeds I've been thanking my lucky stars that I have 4 more years on the current passport. That, and planning on having a freak accident involving the new passport and a hammer.

Thus, I'm not terribly surprised that some hacker decided to clone the US passport.

For my lovely readers who aren't sure what all this means:
RFID - The anti-theft devices found in pretty much every major clothing store. You can walk out the door and if you have one the alarms go off. This is RFID: readable from a distance and not requiring direct contact.

US Passport cards - the size of a credit card these cards are used at Canadian and Mexican boarder crossings, so citizens don't have to lug around full-sized passports. Fitted with RFID these scared the pants off me.

What happened: Dude drove around San Fransisco scanning for RFID devices, and when he found them saved all the info. In his hunt he found some US passport cards which he then cloned.

The scary bits: Um, how insecure all of this is! Whoa!

Solution:
Card, meet Hammer. Hammer, meet card.
Also, I hear microwaving works.

As a non-destructive resort: get an RFID protectin case, or just wrap your wallet in tin foil. No, I'm not kidding.

No, But Yes

I had to buy a new backpack tonight. Yup, had to.

Bill and I headed to REI (really, is there another outdoor store? No. The answer is no) to shop! We hunted down a sale clerk who turned out to be awesome! While we were fitting me for the pack the three of us chatted and joked and chatted some more. Right before she sent me on my way to test out the pack she asked, "Are you two dating?"

"NO!" we both replied with a bit more enthusiasm than was probably necessary.

"Oh, you guys just act like it," she said explaining herself. Yes, yes we do. And, there is precious little I can do about it.

Statistically Significant Other

You think Bill will buy this?

More Than Just Asparagus

Bill and I spent Saturday afternoon looking at places for him to potentially buy. After a long hard day of house hunting we decided to grab some tea and something light to eat. We ended up being so hungry that we forgot we were going to dinner with a bunch of friends (hence the light food) and ended up ordering heavy dinners. Whoops.

After our 'light' meal we went back to his place before heading to the specially selected for yours truly, Vegan Thai place for second dinner. I decided to order something light to save for lunch on Sunday. While we waited for dinner we joked around and teased each other (for some reason we both felt really isolated at dinner, and I'm not sure why). He was teasing me, so in self-defense I tickled him. "No tickling!!" he laughed as he squirmed away, then grabbed my wrists. We rough housed just a little bit more before he asked, "Wait, we're just platonic, right?"

"What?!" I asked, surprised, "What a stupid question! Of course we're just platonic. What?" Then turned back to the conversation we had been ignoring. That little question nagging in the back of my head.

When my meal arrived it looked so delicious that Bill couldn't resist himself. He reached over with his fork and speared some of my dinner/lunch and declared, "I'm going to eat some of this." "I see," I said, picking up some veggies with mine. We slid the plate between us and each at picked at dinner. Actually, we devoured it. Near the end there were some asparagus spears left on the plate, I cut one in half with my fork as I chatted with him. Then got distracted by someone else before eating it. When I turned back to the plate Bill had taken the crown of the asparagus! I teased him about eating the good half and leaving the boring half for me. Honestly, had it been in a movie it would have been sweet and tender and cute and romantic. Since it was just another day in the life of Granola A. Girl, well, let's just say it was all of those things, but simultaneously none of them.