Strongly Worded

Riding the Ruby on Rails*

At my foster job, we are launching a new program, which, on a good day, I'll describe as "continuously evolving." The program is overseen by a large advisory board, and its design constantly (daily, hourly) changes. The ultimate goal of the program is to provide special training to students studying scientific and technical subjects, and so the prospective participants are also at the mercy of these changes.

Apparently this process mirrors the "agile" method of software development, in which companies pound out a product even before it's ready for prime time, and then issue patches and new versions as bugs and problems are discovered (obviously this is a very dumbed-down explanation of a concept I am barely familiar with). The goal is to avoid getting hung up on perfection early on, and get the product out in the marketplace. At my job, the program development process has to be agile, since it will be rolled out before we have clarity on many key components. This means that I, as the acting coordinator, have to behave in agile ways, and this is a major growth experience for me. It also means that we need to recruit "early users" for the program: students who are pumped about being in the first class and shaping it for others, and students who are comfortable with ambiguity and some level of risk.

Working in this environment makes me question my own capacity for "early use." I don't think I am an early user or even an early adopter. While many of my friends had gmail back when you still needed an invitation, I just recently got an account, and that was mainly for blog-related reasons. I got an iPod and digital camera just last year. I don't have a Blackberry or a Palm. I don't do Facebook. I hardly ever use my cell phone.

However: I'm curious about my place on the spectrum of luddite to techno-whiz because my objection (for the most part) isn't technical. It's not that I find new technology cumbersome or scary, it's just that I usually don't find it necessary. I like writing down appointments in a paper datebook that I can easily and cheaply replace if it got lost or ruined. I like talking to people when I am present and available, and not when I'm at the grocery store or on the bus. And while having an iPod is cool and cute (and I'd never want to give mine up), I've never felt that it filled a major void in my life. I am curious about the whole idea of early adoption and how it applies to other facets of one's personality. Even outside of technology, I like things that are tried and true and recommended, and I'd rather choose something I know I'll enjoy (movie, book, music) than take a random activity or product for a spin.

If you're similarly intrigued, you can take a quiz here to find out where you fall on the technology adoption spectrum.

*Ruby on Rails is a cutting-edge programming language.

Posted by Dori at 5:17 AM 6 comments

A Mysterious Encounter

OK, just a little more about men:

So in my last spate of JDating there was only one guy I liked, and after date #2, said guy told me that he thought friendship was a "better fit" for us than dating. This phrase made me want to hurl, but I decided to be all grown up about it, and I agreed that we could hang out as friends. I never thought it would actually happen, but he did contact me, and we've talked on the phone a bunch of times since then, and gone out a non-date (dinner and a movie with no kissing).

Last night we went on non-date #2, and now I am totally confused. We decided to get together in the evening but had no concrete plans, so he came over and we looked online at movies/music and found nothing too enticing. So the guy suggests we get some food near my house and then rent a movie to watch afterwards. Now if this were pre-meditated (meaning he'd proposed watching a movie to begin with), I might take it to mean: "after dinner I would like us to make out," but since the suggestion was made in the context of other options not panning out, I reserved judgment. We had a very lovely meal, and during the meal he told me about how he went out with this woman and felt unattracted to her, but she kept insisting there were sparks when there were none. I took that as warning.

So we got a video and returned to my house and the guy suggested we crack open a bottle of wine, which we did. (Most of you know I don't drink, but I had a few sips to be social). He had a decent amount of wine. We put the DVD on, and I settled onto the armchair as he settled onto the couch. He says: I can't watch this if you're sitting all the way on the other side of the room. Come sit with me.

Now when a female friend comes over to watch a flick, I always sit on the other side of the room, because my couch is pretty small. But whatevs. This guy is cute. I was willing to get a little cozy. So I sat down and he splayed out and puts his arm over the back of the couch/my back, and I'm all: is this a meekly executed arm-around-the-girl? (He was not touching me at all.) Or just a guy taking up space because the world is male-dominated?

We watched the hilarious and vulgar movie. We laughed and chatted. And I was completely mystified. After it ended we lolled around for a little while longer and he left shortly after midnight.

I consulted with a wise male advisor this morning, and he asked why I didn't make a move. I know that I am not a strong sender of signals, so under other circumstances I may have been a little more assertive. But I wasn't feeling electric energy last night, and I also felt like my dignity was in mad jeopardy. He did say explicitly that he wasn't into me in a romantic way (even if it was a long time ago), and if I would have made a move, and been spurned, I might dissolve into a puddle of shame.

So there you have it. Close encounters of the inexplicable kind.

Posted by Dori at 12:12 PM 7 comments

Get Well Soon

So a close friend of mine (BB) is now fine, but he just survived a serious medical emergency. Actually, said emergency occurred on Sunday night, but I just learned of it this morning (Thursday) because of a combination of a) not personally knowing the person who took him to the ER; b) the indecipherable voicemail she left on my cell phone; and c) lack of cell service at my office.

When I did put the pieces together today, and called my friend's workplace and then the hospital, and then heard his cranky-but-very-much-alive-and-well voice on the phone, I melted down. My co-worker hugged me and plied me with an overpriced latte. I slurped and sobbed not just because what had happened was so scary, but because it had happened days ago and I just found out. I had not been there for BB in any sense, and, worse: I had even been somewhat pissed at him because a) I felt a little blown off by non-materializing dinner plans; b) he didn't alert me of a major event in a mutual friend's life; c) he gave my cell to some random woman (the one who brought him to the ER and tried to summon me indecipherably); and d) he wasn't on IM last night, and he's always on IM, and I attributed his absence to promiscuous behavior, because really, in my sick and twisted mind, if he's not on IM, what (who?) could he possibly be doing?

I asked if I could do anything for BB and he said no, and he specifically told me not to cook anything. His parents are with him, and a whole slew of friends had either visited or were planning to do so. I was welcome to stop by later, he said, but he had plenty of peeps. And at this moment I began to understand that when our friends undergo crises, there are really two sets of responses. The first is all about the friend, and the second is all about ourselves. After the initial wave of concern for BB, and loving feelings inspired by his kindness, his top-notch banter, and his brilliance, I became concerned about me. I wanted to see BB and confirm for myself that he is, indeed, healthy and safe. I wanted to be counted among the People Who Care Deeply About BB. I wanted to cook him a healthy meal because cooking is a concrete way for me to show love and care, and I want BB to feel loved and cared for.

Having been hospitalized myself, I know that other people's love and care and concern can be burdensome. It can be tiring and awkward to entertain visitors when you feel (and probably look and smell) wretched, and you've got tubes sticking out of you, and are wearing a backless hospital gown that doesn't cover squat. Responding to a barrage of well-meaning medical questions also sucks. And having to politely and graciously accept sympathy, generosity, and help can also get old after a while.

Still, I dropped in on BB, who had been discharged from the hospital. He looked and sounded normal. He was watching baseball and eating unsalted cashews. His mom, two visitors, and cats were keeping him company. I felt better knowing he's OK, and in good hands.

When I asked BB if there was anything to do for him (since cooking was off-limits), he said I could write an entertaining blog entry. I wracked my brain to see if I could come up with something pithy or funny. I came up short. I hope this is better than nothing. At least for today, it seems to be all I can do.

Posted by Dori at 9:27 PM 1 comments

We Are Family

This weekend marked my first-ever visit with my three cousins on U.S. soil.

I have this tiny extended family. Three of my grandparents died when I was little; I lost my grandmother right after college. My parents have one sibling each (and my dad's brother died a few years ago). I have six cousins. That's it. Other than my nuclear family, there are only nine people on this planet to whom I have familial ties.

Also: all of these nine people live in another country. The last time I visited said country was in 2000, and there have been only a few U.S. visits since then.We email on birthdays, and my mom and aunt talk all the time, so I get all the details about the fam (I hear about everything from my cousins' marital challenges to their home appliances).

The fact that the three cousins decided to visit was a huge deal. One of them has four (!) kids and the other one has two kids, and they've never been super close as sisters. This bonding trip is not only freeing for them, but also incredibly cool for me, since we got to really talk without sippy-cup-, diaper-, or time out-related interruptions.

I was so, so excited and nervous to see them, especially since my three cousins and my mom stayed with me last night in my one-bedroom apartment. There is something about side-by-side airbeds that breeds hilarity and closeness, and we snapped tons of sassy photos. My cousins were also enthusiastic about my home and neighborhood and appreciated all kinds of things I'd never considered before. For example, at most crosswalks in my area (and I imagine in most of the U.S.) the "Walk" sign is followed by beeping and a numeric countdown that allows you to saunter across the street, or haul ass, as appropriate.

And the weirdest thing? My cousin couldn't get over the American accents. Everyone sounded, to her, like the people from American Pie. She kept laughing, and saying (over and over)" "this one time ... at band camp ..."

Posted by Dori at 8:29 PM 2 comments

I Don't Like Mike

Remember Mike? The guy I met through work a few months ago? The guy with whom I/people in my office thought I could fall in love? The one who turned out to be schmoozy and slick?

Of course you remember. And of course you'll be intrigued when I tell you that Mike was in town this week. He's an "independent consultant" based in New York, and was invited to my workplace, along with some other alums, to give input on a new academic initiative. Mike is all about his consultant status, and is constantly checking his blackberry/voicemail. Interestingly, the other meeting participants were VPs at major corporations - one was featured on the cover of Forbes magazine last year - but somehow they were able to unplug completely. Just recently I heard two people snorting when I mentioned what I assumed to be Mike's consulting prowess. "Mike has been unemployed for four years," I was told. "And he IMs obsessively with his ex girlfriend."

Alas. Mike stayed on campus after the meeting, and hung out in my office for hours, and somehow the topic of dating emerged, and Mike got all pedagogical and started sharing his fool-proof strategies. First, he discussed how he's a champion ballroom dancer, and how whipping a chick around on a dance floor is Phase I of a Sure Thing Seduction. Then, he talked about his home decor. Apparently Phase II is based on scented candles. Lots and lots of scented candles. He has vanilla, cookie spice, and pine-y passion. It made me a little nauseous just thinking of that (What is it with guys and vanilla? Another guy I dated thought it was sex-promoting as well. It's so not.) And interestingly, Mike is 38 and single.

I told him that dancing and scented candles seemed trite and presumptuous to me, and that what is truly hot is listening and asking questions. "I ask questions," he insisted. "If anything, I ask too many questions."

Now over the last few months, I've spent a significant amount of time with Mike, and he has not asked me one single question. I know about his ballroom dancing, his candles, his ex-girlfriend, his consulting, his networking, his work history ... and what has he asked me? Zip. While I realize Mike is not courting me, he still sucks and is not a good listener. It's like the classic When Harry Met Sally line: "everyone thinks they have good taste and a sense of humor." I debated whether to tell him this, and decided against it.

I think I am done writing about men for a while.

Posted by Dori at 2:45 PM 5 comments

Semi Pseudo Date #500,228

So two of my exes were at a bar a few weeks ago and met a third guy. They confirmed that said guy is Jewish, straight, sweet, smart, and single, and proceeded to fix us up. His only known shortcoming: he hooks his Blackberry on to his belt. I consider this egregious but also easy to fix.

We had our first uneventful date (#500,227) some time ago. I had hoped we would fall in love instantly, because my last spate of JDating was so completely unsuccessful. And the date was fine. Mr. Blackberry was super polite and gentlemanly, but there wasn't anything special. If my two exes hadn't assured me that there is both humor and edge behind his polite facade, I don't think I would have pursued anything. But because of those assurances, I followed up, and Mr. Blackberry proposed a second get-together. He emailed and suggested that we go see Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay, and when I read the message I slumped deep down in my chair and started pouting, because I hate that kind of movie and would only go if doing so would be an act of love and support that would later be reciprocated. Also his emails were riddled with emoticons.

Luckily he offered an alternative, and suggested I join him at a book reading/fundraiser. I was wary because it was sponsored by some Jewish professional schmoozy doctors-and-lawyers outfit, and I generally strive to avoid that scene, but whatever, it beats a stoner movie hands down. I envisioned we'd chat and then sit with a bunch of other young professionals, eat a mediocre kosher meal, listen to the speaker, and then go out for coffee or a drink or something.

But no. This was an incredibly noisy room packed to the gills with young Jewish lawyers and doctors, and the "dinner" originated from a buffet wedged in the back of the room. It was one of those things where you try to squeeze the food on your tiny plastic plate and hold it, along with your plastic cup of ginger ale, your coat, and the bag you schlepped from work. While doing this, you are also trying to chatter brightly and intelligently while a) not dropping food, drink, coat, or bag; b) ensuring teeth remain free of parsley and spinach; c) actually chewing and swallowing food; and d) enduring the pain caused by cooler-than-normal shoes worn in anticipation of a date-like encounter.

To add to this weirdness, Mr. B clearly knew many people at this event, and while he greeted me warmly when I arrived, there was no evidence that we were on a date or even affiliated in any way. We barely talked to each other, and in fact, others who joined our broader conversations kept introducing me to him. One girl asked where I worked, and when I mentioned VPS, she said, "Oh, Mr. B went to VPS." And I'm all: step off, chica. I know. The same girl offered to save seats (there were rows of chairs set up for the reading), and then she saved seats for herself and Mr. B, but not for me, so I ended up sitting by myself some distance away.

I was ravenous, my back/feet hurt, and I was simultaneously bored and exhausted by the small talk, but things still went downhill. The only two souls I knew in this place were grad school classmates, both on the annoying side, both married, one pregnant. The pregnant one proceeded to update me on the four classmates me know in common, all of whom are newly married and/or pregnant, and this is not information that makes a single girl feel good when she's on a semi pseudo date with a guy to whom she is repeatedly being introduced.

After the speaker wrapped up, Mr. Blackberry scanned the room and sighed and said he hated the awkward goodbye phase of such events, and I suggested we skip it and leave. But no, he told me: "I have a few more people I need to talk to." So he turned on his heel and went to make his rounds, and I stood there by myself like an idiot, and then continued my depressing conversation with my grad school peeps. Shortly thereafter, there was a general announcement that the Young Lawyers and Doctors were heading across the street to a bar. It was only 8:30 but there was nothing I wanted less than to continue meaningless and even louder conversations with even more strangers, so I hugged Mr. B and set off for home.

He followed up the next day with a neutral "thanks for coming out" - it's unclear what his desired outcome is, or what (if anything) will happen next.

Posted by Dori at 9:39 PM 10 comments

Temp to Perm

One of the things I am working hard to internalize - by which I mean believe as opposed to just know - is that happiness is not finite. There is absolutely no relationship between my happiness (or lack thereof) and the success, romance, health, whatever, of other people. But my subconscious isn't totally down with this notion. Some years ago I had this dream(which I still think about, obviously) in which I was at a large fondue-centric gathering. It included my high-school-friend-who-was-always-cooler-than-me (who I haven't seen since 1995). We all had our forks at the ready, and the party host was doling out cubes of cake and dip-able goodness, and everyone got a piece, except (of course) for me.

I started at my foster job in August, and a few weeks later, the office hired a second temp to coordinate The Office Moves to End All Moves (we moved a 3-person staff from room #146 to room #151, but the drama paralleled the transfer of nuclear waste). Anyway, said temp stayed on after the move and worked her ass off. I have also worked my ass off, but to be fair, my ass remains mainly intact and hers shows significant shrinkage. Because it sucks sucks sucks to be a contractor, we periodically commiserated and compared notes about how long it would take for us to be instated officially.

Last week she got the word: she is now an official VPS employee, and is chirping (not in a mean way) about vacation time and sick time and retirement benefits and access to the gym and all that. Everyone is super sensitive about my reaction, and our mutual boss said right away that "her #1 job is to work the bureaucracy to get Dori hired permanently," but this woman is an admin (former temp) and really? There is not much she can do. Our supervisor talks constantly about how hard she is working to get this sorted out. I know that the other woman's official employee-dom has no bearing on mine, and that she's totally deserving of everything, and that this means the world to her.

But still. I have already suggested plans for a celebration (and the purchase of a VPS T-shirt), but I know it will be really hard to get fully joyful. Even though I know I should.

Posted by Dori at 5:55 PM 9 comments

Shaking. Then Shaking it Off.

So this morning I attended a very important meeting. Previously, I'd organized two separate meetings to strategize for this one. I did hours of research on key topics. I obsessed about what to say, how to present my objectives, and what to wear.

Last night, I engaged in my patented prepare-a-palooza. This entailed: trying on my professional looking clothes to avoid last-minute stain removal/ironing/underwear shortage, organizing all papers related to the meeting, typing up talking points, setting two alarms to ensure I'd wake up on time, leaving tons of extra time for the commute, checking a zillion times to ensure possession of pen, keys, subway pass, and wallet.

In addition, I have been so paranoid about this meeting that I've actually checked and rechecked the meeting agenda on several occasions, because I had this nagging fear that I'd misread it and that the meeting had actually been scheduled for last Tuesday, or Monday, or a different day altogether.

So. I arrived at the meeting destination exactly 30 minutes early. I settled in at a different lobby with a crossword puzzle, to avoid appearing like a crazy early meeting stalker. After sufficient time had passed, I arrived at the office and was greeted by a puzzled staffer who told me that the meeting had started at 8:00. EIGHT. Not EIGHT fucking THIRTY. In the billions of time I'd checked the agenda, the room location, the names of the participants, and every other detail, I'd somehow managed to get that wrong. I have no excuse or explanation. I just fucked up.

There was no way to convey how out of character this was for me, without revealing just how insanely prepared I actually was. So after several apologies, I took a deep breath and did my best to shake off my horror, and move on, and rock the meeting to the extent possible. Still, since 8:30 this morning, I have periodically thought about what happened, and writhed in shame and disbelief.

But now that I have blogged about my major gaffe, I am officially laying it to rest.

Posted by Dori at 10:18 PM 6 comments

Bills, bills, bills

I am an organized person, I swear. I set up e-mail alerts for birthdays, street cleaning, new contact lenses, the britta filter replacement. I do the six month dentist thing. My house is mostly clean. My car almost always has adequate gas in the tank. My possessions are arranged in a logical manner, and I generally can find stuff when I need it. And for the most part, I stay on top of time commitments.

But the bills? What's the deal with the bills? Most of my expenses are managed electronically, so really I have four checks to write each month: student loan, rent, health insurance, and credit card. Only FOUR bills to contend with. And what do I do? I think about them all month, wondering if they are due or if I already paid them. I put the checkbook and bills in a pile that migrates from the desk to dining room table and the pile is featured on multiple to-do lists that include "pay bills." And eventually I become so lame that I take stamped envelopes and checks - one by one - to the mailbox outside my office. I am incapable of writing out the check in advance, and actually do it it while standing in the hallway next to the mail drop.

I have no explanation for this. Do you?

Posted by Dori at 10:02 PM 1 comments