In lieu of real blogging...movies! Zygote's baptism from a few weeks ago. What I find hilarious is how absolutely shell shocked and miserable I look. Totally wasn't the case, but I guess I just have that mama look now. Bring on the cat sweatshirts.
Thursday, November 05, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Straight for Equality
I attended an online seminar for Straight for Equality at work this week. I mainly wanted to support my coworkers who are members of my company's LGTB alliance, but I found it really useful. Particularly around issues of understanding why gay coworkers are not comfortable sharing pieces of their personal life at work. I heard a horrifying story about a straight guy who hung a flier for a LGTB event in his cube and overheard people discussing "fucking faggots" and it reminded me of my own run-in with a bigoted mofo at work a few years back -- a gun-toting NRA member who told me he stopped his subscription to Time magazine because they had a photo of Ellen on the cover. We got into it, but I wonder how many people are comfortable are getting up in some one's face because of mofo bigotry. And I wonder how much of my fuck-you-I've-got-balls attitude would stay in tact if I really felt I was in danger. This makes me alternately depressed and wanting to beat some heads.
So I signed The Pledge. You Should Too. And check out the guide.
Maybe we will take their suggestion and have a I Love Gays party. That's not what they call it, but I reserve the right to edit.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
I Was NOT Raped By My C-Section
The first time I heard the phrase "I was raped by my c-section," I didn't actually take the time to think about how offensive that statement might be to actual survivors of rape. I just thought it sounded stupid and melodramatic. In Childbirth Is Not Burger King. You Can’t Always Have It Your Way., Rachael Larrimore takes these people on. I like the piece. It sums up my feelings nicely.
Then you get to the real crazy in the comments.
There is nothing quite like birth and parenting to bring out the fundamentalist crazies.
Then you get to the real crazy in the comments.
There is nothing quite like birth and parenting to bring out the fundamentalist crazies.
Monday, October 26, 2009
A Typical Weekday
Between 5 and 6 am: Get up to feed Zygote
Next two hours: Shower, eat, dress Zygote, play with her a bit, feed cats, feed Zygote again
Between 7:30 and 8: Drive to work, curse traffic on 95. Remember that I promised never to complain about traffic after my hellish commutes in NJ. Think, "fuck that."
8-10: Various cube-dweller related items
10: Pump
10:15 - 12:15: More work. Curse Powerpoint.
12:15 - 12:30: Eat lunch at my desk. Always a packed lunched. Check the New York Times. Get depressed.
12:30 - 1: First panic that I am not going to get done everything that I need to get done.
1: Pump again. Double pump to save time. Try not to stare at the clock.
1:15 - 3:30: Endless conference calls, phone calls, emails, living of the dream.
3:30: Pump again. Count ceiling tiles. Make a mental gratitude list.
3:45 - 5: Mad rush to complete everything.
5: Slink guiltily out the door, convinced that I will be fired for my lack of commitment to work.
5-5:40ish: Commute. Curse Alewife. NPR.
5:45 - 6:30: Play with Zygote.
6:30 - 7:30: Feed Zygote, feed self, dress Zygote for bed. If she has reached the smelling point, we bathe her.
7:30 - 8: Clean up, make tomorrow's lunches, grunt pleasantries at YG.
8: Feed Zygote again.
8:20: Collapse on couch. Converse with husband. Mind numbing t.v. and Internets. Occasional reading. Guilt over not writing or blogging or keeping track of Zygote's various accomplishments in the 500 baby books we have.
10: Bed.
It's kind of exhausting and you'll notice that I don't really do the cooking, and we outsource (heh) our cleaning. Also, my mom is with us this month so there is no rush to get her to daycare in the morning. Yet.
I know that we're going to get it together in time, but I am already feeling the pull between work and family and then wondering how I am going to fit me time (writing, reading, running) in.
Seriously, though, I wouldn't trade it for anything.
Next two hours: Shower, eat, dress Zygote, play with her a bit, feed cats, feed Zygote again
Between 7:30 and 8: Drive to work, curse traffic on 95. Remember that I promised never to complain about traffic after my hellish commutes in NJ. Think, "fuck that."
8-10: Various cube-dweller related items
10: Pump
10:15 - 12:15: More work. Curse Powerpoint.
12:15 - 12:30: Eat lunch at my desk. Always a packed lunched. Check the New York Times. Get depressed.
12:30 - 1: First panic that I am not going to get done everything that I need to get done.
1: Pump again. Double pump to save time. Try not to stare at the clock.
1:15 - 3:30: Endless conference calls, phone calls, emails, living of the dream.
3:30: Pump again. Count ceiling tiles. Make a mental gratitude list.
3:45 - 5: Mad rush to complete everything.
5: Slink guiltily out the door, convinced that I will be fired for my lack of commitment to work.
5-5:40ish: Commute. Curse Alewife. NPR.
5:45 - 6:30: Play with Zygote.
6:30 - 7:30: Feed Zygote, feed self, dress Zygote for bed. If she has reached the smelling point, we bathe her.
7:30 - 8: Clean up, make tomorrow's lunches, grunt pleasantries at YG.
8: Feed Zygote again.
8:20: Collapse on couch. Converse with husband. Mind numbing t.v. and Internets. Occasional reading. Guilt over not writing or blogging or keeping track of Zygote's various accomplishments in the 500 baby books we have.
10: Bed.
It's kind of exhausting and you'll notice that I don't really do the cooking, and we outsource (heh) our cleaning. Also, my mom is with us this month so there is no rush to get her to daycare in the morning. Yet.
I know that we're going to get it together in time, but I am already feeling the pull between work and family and then wondering how I am going to fit me time (writing, reading, running) in.
Seriously, though, I wouldn't trade it for anything.
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
Back To Your Previously Scheduled Program Shortly
So I wildly underestimated how exhausted I would be with this whole work/mommy/exercise/baseball combo. Much like I underestimated how time consuming the whole baby thing would be at first. Underestimation seems to be the theme of my life lately.
More to come shortly. Hopefully before the post-season is over.
At least we know one thing about the Project -- it kept me updating.
More to come shortly. Hopefully before the post-season is over.
At least we know one thing about the Project -- it kept me updating.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Post 30: So What Have We Learned?
So this is it. 30 in 38 is now complete. Did I learn anything?
Well, for one, I really wish I was a full-time writer and not a full-time cube dweller. I was hoping that I could have written this yesterday or earlier today so that I could avoid being maudlin, but I was spending that time with Zygote. YG asked me if I wanted to cry now or later, and I answered "later" and then promptly started crying. It's not that I don't want to work. Work is important to me, and sometimes I'm afraid that I don't have an identity without work. I am a Hard Worker. And if I'm panicking at the thought of going to work tomorrow and not really wanting to be there, then who am I? A not very hard worker with a non-existent writing career? Blah. Whine. If you're unemployed, you probably want to gag me right now.
So right, lessons learned.
1. I work best when there's a deadline. I've been half assing this blog for about three years now, and I know from my Google stats that some of you do read it. But I only update sporadically. Having this self-imposed deadline helped me to do some minimal journaling, that I then translated into these posts, and maybe someday will turn into something else.
I'm not taking any classes this semester and that worries me because having class assignments forced me to write. Without the deadline and the potential to be embarassed, I just don't seem to write, and that leads me to number 2.
2. I need to make the time to write. Fairly obvious, but I'm horrible at that. I try and squeeze it in when I can, but I don't make it a priority. People have told me to treat my writing as a second job in order to take it seriously, and that works for about three seconds, and then I go watch t.v. Or read more books that I wish I wrote.
Fridays will be my writing time from now on. No work, minimal baby, not a lot of distractions.
3. Marketing is not bullshit. I've taken a few classes now on how to market personal essays and I've purchased an embarrassing number of books on the same topic. I take copious notes and check Writers Market from time to time, and then I don't do much.
4. This is related to the time thing -- edit, edit, edit. Some people journal or blog and the result is beautifully crafted, breathtaking prose. This is so not me. I am all jumbled stream of consciousness. I finished two pieces in the last year that I really loved (and got my personalized rejection letters for -- woo hoo!), but I had worked on them over the course of three semesters. I need to remember to give myself time to edit. Or if all else fails, spell check. And barring that, fix the where/wear, their/there/they're things. At least give the appearance of trying to be a "real" writer.
5. Take notes. My brain is full. I see the world as if it's a story I'm living and I'm constantly thinking of things that I want to jot down and remember (various conversations with the crazies on the T, overheard bits of interesting factoids, city life, Zygote, etc). And then I don't remember. And that's how this happens.
6. Define success. For this little project, success meant just putting some shit out there for 30 days. I really don't know how I will define being a successful writer. Does it mean being published? Does it mean writing every day? Utilizing my Fridays? This is important since I am prone to oh-woe-is-me-I-can't-do-anything sorts of ramblings.
7. YG told me this one last night. He took a class and said the instructor told them to change the phrase, "I'll believe it when I see it" to "If I believe it, I'll see it." Normally, the earnestness of these types of leadership instructions makes me want to throw up in my mouth a little, but I like that one. I have to believe that I have as good a shot as anyone of getting published, and stop believing that I am destined for the cube for the rest of my life.
8. Just write. There's so many warm, fuzzy writers' manuals filled with that advice. Again with the earnestness and the encouragement. But it's true. Some of my babble is bound to take shape sometime.
So that's it. I intend to keep up the blog to keep folks updated on Zygote and me and the rest of the fam, and I intend to keep up the journaling and fine tuning my other pieces this Fall. And working. And taking care of Zygote. And running. And.....I will be fine.
Well, for one, I really wish I was a full-time writer and not a full-time cube dweller. I was hoping that I could have written this yesterday or earlier today so that I could avoid being maudlin, but I was spending that time with Zygote. YG asked me if I wanted to cry now or later, and I answered "later" and then promptly started crying. It's not that I don't want to work. Work is important to me, and sometimes I'm afraid that I don't have an identity without work. I am a Hard Worker. And if I'm panicking at the thought of going to work tomorrow and not really wanting to be there, then who am I? A not very hard worker with a non-existent writing career? Blah. Whine. If you're unemployed, you probably want to gag me right now.
So right, lessons learned.
1. I work best when there's a deadline. I've been half assing this blog for about three years now, and I know from my Google stats that some of you do read it. But I only update sporadically. Having this self-imposed deadline helped me to do some minimal journaling, that I then translated into these posts, and maybe someday will turn into something else.
I'm not taking any classes this semester and that worries me because having class assignments forced me to write. Without the deadline and the potential to be embarassed, I just don't seem to write, and that leads me to number 2.
2. I need to make the time to write. Fairly obvious, but I'm horrible at that. I try and squeeze it in when I can, but I don't make it a priority. People have told me to treat my writing as a second job in order to take it seriously, and that works for about three seconds, and then I go watch t.v. Or read more books that I wish I wrote.
Fridays will be my writing time from now on. No work, minimal baby, not a lot of distractions.
3. Marketing is not bullshit. I've taken a few classes now on how to market personal essays and I've purchased an embarrassing number of books on the same topic. I take copious notes and check Writers Market from time to time, and then I don't do much.
4. This is related to the time thing -- edit, edit, edit. Some people journal or blog and the result is beautifully crafted, breathtaking prose. This is so not me. I am all jumbled stream of consciousness. I finished two pieces in the last year that I really loved (and got my personalized rejection letters for -- woo hoo!), but I had worked on them over the course of three semesters. I need to remember to give myself time to edit. Or if all else fails, spell check. And barring that, fix the where/wear, their/there/they're things. At least give the appearance of trying to be a "real" writer.
5. Take notes. My brain is full. I see the world as if it's a story I'm living and I'm constantly thinking of things that I want to jot down and remember (various conversations with the crazies on the T, overheard bits of interesting factoids, city life, Zygote, etc). And then I don't remember. And that's how this happens.
6. Define success. For this little project, success meant just putting some shit out there for 30 days. I really don't know how I will define being a successful writer. Does it mean being published? Does it mean writing every day? Utilizing my Fridays? This is important since I am prone to oh-woe-is-me-I-can't-do-anything sorts of ramblings.
7. YG told me this one last night. He took a class and said the instructor told them to change the phrase, "I'll believe it when I see it" to "If I believe it, I'll see it." Normally, the earnestness of these types of leadership instructions makes me want to throw up in my mouth a little, but I like that one. I have to believe that I have as good a shot as anyone of getting published, and stop believing that I am destined for the cube for the rest of my life.
8. Just write. There's so many warm, fuzzy writers' manuals filled with that advice. Again with the earnestness and the encouragement. But it's true. Some of my babble is bound to take shape sometime.
So that's it. I intend to keep up the blog to keep folks updated on Zygote and me and the rest of the fam, and I intend to keep up the journaling and fine tuning my other pieces this Fall. And working. And taking care of Zygote. And running. And.....I will be fine.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Post 29: Things That Were Awesome About This Summer
A far from exhaustive list:
1. Zygote. Do I really need to get into this one? Watching her go from rubbery blob to tiny, sometimes blobby person has been amazing.
2. Two weeks in Long Island.
3. The return of copious amounts of wine and beer to my diet.
4. An inordinate amount of time watching bad t.v. and not feeling guilty, like usual, because I was 'nourishing my child' while doing so.
5. Running again.
6. Discovering Cambridge and Somerville with the stroller.
7. Reading.
8. Not working.
9. Restaurant Week.
10. The Water Club at Atlantic City.
11. JP Licks.
12. Walden Pond.
13. My birthday.
14. Being able to stay in NJ for more than 24 hours.
15. Drinks in Davis with YG, while church friends watched Zygote.
16. Can we say AL Division Champs?
17. Seeing old friends.
18. Sleeping until 9 most days, showering whenever, unemployment (read: elastic waist) pants
19. Ball games
20. Dinners on the porch with a bottle of wine.
It wasn't quite the "Summer of JM" that I imagined, but it was still pretty great.
1. Zygote. Do I really need to get into this one? Watching her go from rubbery blob to tiny, sometimes blobby person has been amazing.
2. Two weeks in Long Island.
3. The return of copious amounts of wine and beer to my diet.
4. An inordinate amount of time watching bad t.v. and not feeling guilty, like usual, because I was 'nourishing my child' while doing so.
5. Running again.
6. Discovering Cambridge and Somerville with the stroller.
7. Reading.
8. Not working.
9. Restaurant Week.
10. The Water Club at Atlantic City.
11. JP Licks.
12. Walden Pond.
13. My birthday.
14. Being able to stay in NJ for more than 24 hours.
15. Drinks in Davis with YG, while church friends watched Zygote.
16. Can we say AL Division Champs?
17. Seeing old friends.
18. Sleeping until 9 most days, showering whenever, unemployment (read: elastic waist) pants
19. Ball games
20. Dinners on the porch with a bottle of wine.
It wasn't quite the "Summer of JM" that I imagined, but it was still pretty great.
Post 28: This Is What A Relationship Looks Like -- Guess You Had To Be There Edition
I hate feet. I mean, I really, really hate feet. I get pedicures because I don't even like touching my own feet. I find foot fetishes weirder and grosser than plushies or furries. Feet = gross.
YG knows this, and when I am being super cranky or getting all up in his face about something, he will take his hand, rub it on my face and say, "mmmm....I was just massaging my calluses" or my personal favorite, "I love giving pedicures to the homeless."
He also steals my pillows every night. Being a tad obsessive compulsive, I have a system for proper placement of my pillows. The memory foam one is for my head, and the fluffier one stands propped against the headboard for easy access if I want to hug it or move it in some way.
Every night, I will go to the bathroom and when I get back, the pillows are either switched up or gone entirely. Ticklefest ensues, and I beg YG not to take my pillows anymore, to please, just let me be at one with the pillows. On the rare night that he does not touch the pillows, conversation goes something like:
Me: What's wrong?
YG: What do you mean?
Me: You didn't take my pillows.
YG: You hate it when I take your pillows.
Me: Are you pissed at me?
YG: Yes
Me: It's because I'm fat, isn't it? You're mad at me because of the lard.
YG: And the prattling.
Me: Yes, you hate me because I'm a fat prattler.
YG: That is exactly why I didn't touch your pillows.
I'm sure this is the type of thing that is only amusing to two people.
YG knows this, and when I am being super cranky or getting all up in his face about something, he will take his hand, rub it on my face and say, "mmmm....I was just massaging my calluses" or my personal favorite, "I love giving pedicures to the homeless."
He also steals my pillows every night. Being a tad obsessive compulsive, I have a system for proper placement of my pillows. The memory foam one is for my head, and the fluffier one stands propped against the headboard for easy access if I want to hug it or move it in some way.
Every night, I will go to the bathroom and when I get back, the pillows are either switched up or gone entirely. Ticklefest ensues, and I beg YG not to take my pillows anymore, to please, just let me be at one with the pillows. On the rare night that he does not touch the pillows, conversation goes something like:
Me: What's wrong?
YG: What do you mean?
Me: You didn't take my pillows.
YG: You hate it when I take your pillows.
Me: Are you pissed at me?
YG: Yes
Me: It's because I'm fat, isn't it? You're mad at me because of the lard.
YG: And the prattling.
Me: Yes, you hate me because I'm a fat prattler.
YG: That is exactly why I didn't touch your pillows.
I'm sure this is the type of thing that is only amusing to two people.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Post 27: Reality Check
YG and I just went through a budget exercise to try and figure out what our financial picture (aren't I grown up with my fancy phrases?) will look like after I go back to work at reduced hours and we factor in child care. The result is not pretty. I'm not in total panic mode yet, but I know that we're taking a big hit. My Fridays off are supposed to be for writing, sending out some writing and spending time with Zygote. If I were a contractor and I worked hours on Fridays, I could bill for them. But I'm not a contractor. I'm a regular employee working reduced hours, so if I work more than my allotted hours, I lose money. The onus is on me to make this work. The onus is on me to not check the crackberry, not be available, and use the Fridays to figure out how to extracate myself from this career that I've built.
And the onus is on me to not get laid off while doing so, because the alternatives (check out: U.S. Job Seekers Exceed Openings by Record Ratio) suck.
I WILL NOT DO WORK THAT I AM NOT PAID FOR. Hold me to this, Internets.
And the onus is on me to not get laid off while doing so, because the alternatives (check out: U.S. Job Seekers Exceed Openings by Record Ratio) suck.
I WILL NOT DO WORK THAT I AM NOT PAID FOR. Hold me to this, Internets.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Post 26: Race Update
36: 47! That's not as good as my time last year, but way better than my times in the races I ran while pregnant. It was perfect running weather -- about 62 degrees and sunny. The race venue was not that great. They switched locations because of overcrowding so the route went through the bowels of the seaport, including Seaport Boulevard that stunk of well, seafood.
I feel pretty good about myself. Yes, I was slower. Yes, I have a mom belly. Yes, I will always think I need to: lose weight, eat better, exercise more, etc. Today, though, I am a-okay.
The MG took pics.
Pre-race, wearing my super-flattering XXL UPenn sweatshirt purchased at my brother's graduation. I tell myself that it wasn't that long ago and that I don't need new workout wear, but...it worked out well during pregnancy.
Zygote, not so impressed by having to be out in the cold.
Post-race.
Congrats on this beautiful day!
Slightly happier now that the food source has returned.
I feel pretty good about myself. Yes, I was slower. Yes, I have a mom belly. Yes, I will always think I need to: lose weight, eat better, exercise more, etc. Today, though, I am a-okay.
The MG took pics.
Pre-race, wearing my super-flattering XXL UPenn sweatshirt purchased at my brother's graduation. I tell myself that it wasn't that long ago and that I don't need new workout wear, but...it worked out well during pregnancy.
Zygote, not so impressed by having to be out in the cold.
Post-race.
Congrats on this beautiful day!
Slightly happier now that the food source has returned.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Post 25: Zygote's Letter
Say what you will about Dooce, I love/d that she wrote her kid a monthly letter. YG and I had this plan to faithfully update our journal for Zygote, but things didn't quite work out that way. Here are excerpts from the three month one, and I have to say that these updates would be much easier to write if she wasn't staring at me and shouting every time I dare to turn my head and pay attention to anything else.
Dear Zygote --
You are now 3 months old, or 15 weeks and one day to be exact. Sometimes, I can't remember what it was like before you. We had a tough first month, but right now, most of my time spent with you is a joy. You still have moments when you scream bloody murder and I can't figure out how to comfort you. Then I have this crazy cocktail of emotions ranging from helplessness to anger to fear because I'm afraid that I'm not doing this mother thing right, that I SHOULD know what to do to make you feel better.
The crying moments are few and far between, though. Most of the time, you give me these huge grins and giggle when I make up songs for you. Our days are pretty lazy. I usually feed you in bed in the mornings and then we play and I watch t.v. while feeding you again. Afternoons, we'll go out for a run or walk to Harvard Square and I'll get a cupcake and bring you to the bookstore.
When you're older, I hope that I have more friends with kids for you to play with. We go to mommy and me group (barf at that name, you'll understand in time) every week and may make some new friends, but for now, I'm content with it being just us. And your dad. He's still my favorite person in the room, and I hope you'll see how cool he is when you grow up.
Next week, I go back to work. I am not looking forward to it. There is nothing wrong with my job, but I have no connection to the work that I do. I am unimportant. And have mixed feelings about leaving you to work that doesn't mean much. Still, work, and earning your own money, is important. When you grow up, you can be anything you want to be, and I encourage you to be selfish -- you are allowed to find that job that you love. I'm going to keep searching for that because I want to be a good role model for you. I know that I will miss you when I'm gone, but know that I'm never really GONE. I'm always with you.
Love,
Mama
Post 24: Running Blah Blah
I'm running my first race post-Zygote tomorrow morning. I am excited, nervous, insert adjective of your choice. I ran this race last year at my best time, 10:35 per mile, and I'm pretty sure there's no way I'm going to beat that. A little sad, but then I remember I couldn't really WALK three months ago. My goal is to run the whole thing without stopping.
It's been nice getting back to running. Earlier in the week, I took Zygote down to Kendall Square and ran the 2.7 miles along the river back to Harvard Square. The stroller weighed about a thousand pounds, and the wind was right in our face, but still, totally glorious. She slept and I rewarded myself with a cupcake.
In other running news, I decided to switch up my sneakers. I had been totally devoted to Saucony Triumphs, but read that ASICS Nimbus were also good for under pronators. YG swears by ASICS, so I'm trying them out. So far, I'm neutral. They feel much stiffer than the Sauconys, but maybe it's because I'm just not used to them. I threw away my faithful green machines, otherwise known as the Saucony Triumph 4. They were my second pair of Sauconys, but I logged the most miles with them and really got into running at that time. Still, small apartment = no space for tons of old running sneakers littering the floor.
Wish me luck.
It's been nice getting back to running. Earlier in the week, I took Zygote down to Kendall Square and ran the 2.7 miles along the river back to Harvard Square. The stroller weighed about a thousand pounds, and the wind was right in our face, but still, totally glorious. She slept and I rewarded myself with a cupcake.
In other running news, I decided to switch up my sneakers. I had been totally devoted to Saucony Triumphs, but read that ASICS Nimbus were also good for under pronators. YG swears by ASICS, so I'm trying them out. So far, I'm neutral. They feel much stiffer than the Sauconys, but maybe it's because I'm just not used to them. I threw away my faithful green machines, otherwise known as the Saucony Triumph 4. They were my second pair of Sauconys, but I logged the most miles with them and really got into running at that time. Still, small apartment = no space for tons of old running sneakers littering the floor.
Wish me luck.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Post 23: Things I Wish I Did More of This Summer
The theme of the day seems to be social awkwardness.
There's no easy way to say this, but I wish I had more friends. If you are reading this, you're probably a friend a therefore exempt. I was hoping that a summer off with a baby would magically get rid of the social awkwardness and that I'd be going out on lots of play dates, meeting other people with kids. My mommy groups have been great, and I've been able to meet lots of new women, but I never seem to be able to make that transition from meeting at a particular place and time to "hey, let's go out for coffee." I see these women in the neighborhood all the time, and we chit chat, so I seem good at making acquaintances, but not friends.
How DO you make friends as an adult? As a kid, it seems like you are constantly thrown in these situations where you get to meet other people or you can just go knock on someone's door and ask if they want to ride bikes. And then there's college where everyone knows no one, so you naturally gravitate toward people like you. After college, though, there's work and....?
A friend of mine moved to a new city with her family and made up business cards with her contact information that she gave to people that she thought were cool. She recreated a whole network of friends and acquaintances within a few months. I admire someone that can do that and can naturally go out and meet people, but the idea of me doing it makes me just cringe.
Still, Zygote at least gives me a conversation starter, so we're going to try another group today and see if we can make a friend.
There's no easy way to say this, but I wish I had more friends. If you are reading this, you're probably a friend a therefore exempt. I was hoping that a summer off with a baby would magically get rid of the social awkwardness and that I'd be going out on lots of play dates, meeting other people with kids. My mommy groups have been great, and I've been able to meet lots of new women, but I never seem to be able to make that transition from meeting at a particular place and time to "hey, let's go out for coffee." I see these women in the neighborhood all the time, and we chit chat, so I seem good at making acquaintances, but not friends.
How DO you make friends as an adult? As a kid, it seems like you are constantly thrown in these situations where you get to meet other people or you can just go knock on someone's door and ask if they want to ride bikes. And then there's college where everyone knows no one, so you naturally gravitate toward people like you. After college, though, there's work and....?
A friend of mine moved to a new city with her family and made up business cards with her contact information that she gave to people that she thought were cool. She recreated a whole network of friends and acquaintances within a few months. I admire someone that can do that and can naturally go out and meet people, but the idea of me doing it makes me just cringe.
Still, Zygote at least gives me a conversation starter, so we're going to try another group today and see if we can make a friend.
Post 22: Additional Dumb Shit That I Say
In trying to pay attention to the "likes," I've noticed an overabundance of "it's kind of funny..." followed by stories that are not actually funny and aren't meant to be funny. It's the modern girl's version of "no offense."
Post 21: Networking
YG and I went to a networking event downtown last night. Our dinner plans were cancelled and we already had a babysitter lined up, so we figured what the hell. Networking is one of those words that makes me cringe. I know you need to do it to find jobs. I know that you're more likely to get a job from someone you know. And I know that you need to meet people in order to get to "know" them. I know all this stuff, and I still hate it.
Networking brings out the worst of my social awkwardness and brings me back to my middle school days when you wonder who you're going to sit with at lunch. At these events, I always assume that everyone knows each other, is easily carrying on tons of scintillating conversation, and does not want an interruption from a dorky outsider. It's worse going with YG because he's Mr. Big Man on Campus and a relentless networker -- he has a natural kind of social ease and can get even the most boring and awkward people to talk. I usually stall out after "what do you do" and "what do you want to do." I then mumble my way into the "where are you from" and eventually land on the weather, where most conversations go to die.
It actually wasn't that bad. We set a goal of collecting five business cards before we walked in, and I work well with goals. I had a glass of wine so that I'd have something to carry and lubricate myself to be a little less lame, and I set off. I had lots of conversations with laid off investment bankers and people in the financial services industry, one fun conversation with a woman who had started her own event planning business, and only one painfully awkward one with a person in "educational leadership." A lot of the women talked about needing to find something more flexible because they have kids which was expected, but still depressing. YG rescued from a conversation with some douchebag financial analyst obviously looking to pick up women, and then we left and had dinner "al fresco" at Upstairs on the Square.
Overall, it wasn't that bad. Knowing that YG was there and watching me forced me into conversations, as opposed to hiding out in the bathroom. I had a lot of trouble answering the question, "so, what do you want to do?" I really have no idea. I still like PR, but I know it's time for me to get out of high tech. Suggestions welcome.
Networking brings out the worst of my social awkwardness and brings me back to my middle school days when you wonder who you're going to sit with at lunch. At these events, I always assume that everyone knows each other, is easily carrying on tons of scintillating conversation, and does not want an interruption from a dorky outsider. It's worse going with YG because he's Mr. Big Man on Campus and a relentless networker -- he has a natural kind of social ease and can get even the most boring and awkward people to talk. I usually stall out after "what do you do" and "what do you want to do." I then mumble my way into the "where are you from" and eventually land on the weather, where most conversations go to die.
It actually wasn't that bad. We set a goal of collecting five business cards before we walked in, and I work well with goals. I had a glass of wine so that I'd have something to carry and lubricate myself to be a little less lame, and I set off. I had lots of conversations with laid off investment bankers and people in the financial services industry, one fun conversation with a woman who had started her own event planning business, and only one painfully awkward one with a person in "educational leadership." A lot of the women talked about needing to find something more flexible because they have kids which was expected, but still depressing. YG rescued from a conversation with some douchebag financial analyst obviously looking to pick up women, and then we left and had dinner "al fresco" at Upstairs on the Square.
Overall, it wasn't that bad. Knowing that YG was there and watching me forced me into conversations, as opposed to hiding out in the bathroom. I had a lot of trouble answering the question, "so, what do you want to do?" I really have no idea. I still like PR, but I know it's time for me to get out of high tech. Suggestions welcome.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Post 20: Reading I Have Enjoyed This Summer
The best part about being home with Zygote this summer was that I had more time to read than normal. My summer list included:
1. Cconsider the Lobster: And Other Essays by David Foster Wallace -- When DFW died, I felt like a bit of an ass because he is supposedly one of the voices of my generation and I hadn't read anything by him. The title essay was fantastic, but the piece on John McCain's 2000 bid was even better. I now want to tackle Infinite Jest.
2. Mother Shock: Loving Every (Other) Minute of It by Andrea Buchanan -- My friend, Sarah, sent this to me when I had Zygote saying that it helped her through the early weeks of motherhood. I read this collection of essays my first few weeks with Zygote, while she slept on our walks through the neighborhood. It took me forever to finish it because she screamed a lot during those weeks, but I found it infinitely relatable.
3. The Man of My Dreams by Curtis Sittenfeld -- Light beach read. I loved Prep, so I was expecting more, but this was nice for Long Island.
4. The Hour I First Believed by Wally Lamb -- As with all his books, I adored this. It took a while to get going, but it was worth it. The characters are so developed and the plot details are intricate. It could be cheesy, but it never is.
5. The Emperor of Ocean Park by Stephen L. Carter -- The best way I can describe this book is ....interesting? A few friends gave it rave reviews, but because I don't normally like mysteries, it sat on my shelf for three years. I still don't know if I liked it, but it was 672 pages and I couldn't put it down. That's saying something.
6. Reading Like a Writer: A Guide for People Who Love Books and for Those Who Want to Write Them by Francine Prose -- This is normally the kind of book that I love. I'm a big fan of reading about doing things as opposed to actually doing them. I liked the focus on sentences and paragraphs, getting back to grammar basics, since it's something that I'm terrible at. I also liked the examples, but had a hard time relating to passages that I hadn't read before. It's not a guidebook, though. Another plus is that I now have another list of books that I'd like to read, including giving Chekov another shot.
7. The Ten-Year Nap by Meg Wolitzer -- I haven't finished this yet, but it also falls under the category of Books That I Am Not Sure I Like But Still Can't Put Down. It's about a group of friends who all gave up their careers to raise their children and what they are thinking and feeling ten years in. I don't particularly like the characters and find them very snooty and whiny and over educated and navel gazing. But, cough, also highly relatable.
I'm hoping to tackle a few more in the next week, and of course, keep it up once I return to work.
Edited to add: Relatable is not really a word? See above about grammar and me.
1. Cconsider the Lobster: And Other Essays by David Foster Wallace -- When DFW died, I felt like a bit of an ass because he is supposedly one of the voices of my generation and I hadn't read anything by him. The title essay was fantastic, but the piece on John McCain's 2000 bid was even better. I now want to tackle Infinite Jest.
2. Mother Shock: Loving Every (Other) Minute of It by Andrea Buchanan -- My friend, Sarah, sent this to me when I had Zygote saying that it helped her through the early weeks of motherhood. I read this collection of essays my first few weeks with Zygote, while she slept on our walks through the neighborhood. It took me forever to finish it because she screamed a lot during those weeks, but I found it infinitely relatable.
3. The Man of My Dreams by Curtis Sittenfeld -- Light beach read. I loved Prep, so I was expecting more, but this was nice for Long Island.
4. The Hour I First Believed by Wally Lamb -- As with all his books, I adored this. It took a while to get going, but it was worth it. The characters are so developed and the plot details are intricate. It could be cheesy, but it never is.
5. The Emperor of Ocean Park by Stephen L. Carter -- The best way I can describe this book is ....interesting? A few friends gave it rave reviews, but because I don't normally like mysteries, it sat on my shelf for three years. I still don't know if I liked it, but it was 672 pages and I couldn't put it down. That's saying something.
6. Reading Like a Writer: A Guide for People Who Love Books and for Those Who Want to Write Them by Francine Prose -- This is normally the kind of book that I love. I'm a big fan of reading about doing things as opposed to actually doing them. I liked the focus on sentences and paragraphs, getting back to grammar basics, since it's something that I'm terrible at. I also liked the examples, but had a hard time relating to passages that I hadn't read before. It's not a guidebook, though. Another plus is that I now have another list of books that I'd like to read, including giving Chekov another shot.
7. The Ten-Year Nap by Meg Wolitzer -- I haven't finished this yet, but it also falls under the category of Books That I Am Not Sure I Like But Still Can't Put Down. It's about a group of friends who all gave up their careers to raise their children and what they are thinking and feeling ten years in. I don't particularly like the characters and find them very snooty and whiny and over educated and navel gazing. But, cough, also highly relatable.
I'm hoping to tackle a few more in the next week, and of course, keep it up once I return to work.
Edited to add: Relatable is not really a word? See above about grammar and me.
Post 19: Does This Count?
I laughed out loud.
And then cringed a little because I am such a corporate yuppie.
And then cringed a little because I am such a corporate yuppie.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Post 18: I Don't Know What to Write About
That isn't entirely true, but I feel like I would need a novel to get into everything swirling around in the brain right now. I know that I want to write about how conflicted I feel about going back to my job (not about working, but going back to work that I don't feel that passionate about and that I'm not doing particularly well at). I also want to write about the first three weeks after we brought Zygote home from the hospital because I'm finally far enough away from that to talk about it. And I want to write more about Zygote.
But all of that stuff is HEAVY. No queef stains or fart waffles in that.
Please leave suggestions in the comments section if you would like to hear me rant on a particular topic. I think that would actually be a good job for me -- ranting.
For now, I'll go back to walking around with bluebirds on my shoulder and rays of sunshine coming out of my ass.
But all of that stuff is HEAVY. No queef stains or fart waffles in that.
Please leave suggestions in the comments section if you would like to hear me rant on a particular topic. I think that would actually be a good job for me -- ranting.
For now, I'll go back to walking around with bluebirds on my shoulder and rays of sunshine coming out of my ass.
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