Suburban (in)Sanity

We have the most disruptive technology in our pockets and nobody seems to notice

"We wanted flying cars. Instead we got 140 characters." This quote was made famous by Founder's Fund VC Peter Theil. 

We sci-fi folks are dreamers. Prognosticators. Fortune tellers. There are some in the SF community who feel like our era is over. Our dreamery future-fantasy stuff is just out of touch with the fast pace of technology today. Or our dreams are too inattainable to be real.

But here's the thing. Peter Theil is right, in a way. We don't have flying cars or bases on the moon or regular rocket rides to asteroids (though we did land a big 'ol rover on Mars. With Lasers!) A lot of the things we dream about in SF stories seem impossibly far off. Teleportation. Telekenisis. Teleanything that doesn't include 150 stations of Reality TV. Distant space travel. Contact with alien cultures.

But, really what's happened is that the future has caught up with us so fast that I think people just haven't noticed.

The cell phone camera is a disruptive technology, and most folks have one on them or are in the presence of someone who has one for the majority of their day.

My camera is a powerful force. I take pictures and digitally journal many of my days (I tried the 365 project  - a picture each day. I fell off the wagon early, but I still find I take a photo more days than not.) 

In addition to photo journaling and just recording life, we have the opportunity to catch moments and record them (my cell phone camera is also a powerful video camera) in high def video. From a baby's first steps to a blissful afternoon walk in a pretty park. This creates a bit of mania in us, I think, as we sometimes forget to just *enjoy* the moment, we're so busy photographing it.

But then it also gives us the opportunity to enjoy the pleasure of the "not so special" moments captured. For me, it helps me to slow down, to fully experience things that I might not have taken the time to notice before. Instead of creating hyperphotographyitis, it's almost like I've amped up my personal awareness of things I see.

What surprises me, though, is how little people pay attention to this. They just blithely go about their daily life taking snapshots of recipes and zinging them across the internets, videotaping democracy rallies in other countries, photographing new species of wildlife and otherwise slowly, (or is it so rapidly we can't even see the movement such that we think it's standing still?) changing the world.

In my own life I've found myself using my camera on my phone for all sorts of things beyond the general activities of a mom trying desperately to capture moments of her kids childhood before they slip through her fingers.

I videotaped my son's hands shaking so we could discuss it with our doctor. I've taken pictures every year or so of the birthmark on my daughter's back so we can see that it is gradually fading. I've photographed receipts to store a copy of them when dining out. I've videotaped a musical group in Ireland including an elbow pipe player. I've sent photos to family members so they can stay current with the kids' development. I've photographed food, flowers, the sandhill cranes that reside nearby part of the year, plants in my yard that I'm not 100% sure aren't weeds.

I've used photos to document the kids' orthodontia progress. I've sent photos to my husband at work to alert him of something going on at home (often hilarious, like the dogs passed out in yin/yang position with their noses in each others...nether quarters, but also to show a repair project we'll need his help with when he comes home.) And he's used photos to share parts of his travels with the kids, or to show us something funny he has seen. We use this powerful technology to stay close, and get closer.

How about you? Do you use that disruptive technology that's in your pocket? What's the most unusual (SAFE for kids/work/families please!) thing you've photographed or the most unusual thing that's happened as a result of interacting with other people's photographs?

Image gallery - click on a thumbnail to see the image. First is my first attempt at home canning. A good girlfriend texted me a page from her canning cookbook when I panicked midway through. The second is Liam's painting from summer art camp midway through. The third is the site that inspired the painting.

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Ode on a Wireless Access Point that Does Not Suck

Ode on a Wireless Access Point that Does Not Suck

 

Thou access point of doom,

How you taunt me with,

Your wavy bars of signal and glowing green lights,

Indicating neither signal, nor strength

 

Your suckage pulls at me,

Dragging my productivity down, down,

Until I cling to the edge of the pit of despair,

Fearing to never see another silly kitten video,

 

But what, fair Wireless Access Point?

Thou just wanteth me to reconfigure my wifi?

But do yet you not understand?

I am on a tosh de macin, this device excels beyond my limited intellect,

 

Spirits again dashed like paint on concrete,

I contemplate a roof-test for your beloved countenance,

And as I gently lift thine metal body from thine shelf,

What? The internet is back up? ...Meow

 

Dear my teenage self, it's me.

I was incredibly moved by this video, posted by a friend (who I think is friends with the video author:)

 

 

 

And I literally couldn't stop thinking about it, so I did what I often do when I can't stop thinking about something, I wrote. I thought at first I might create a similar video expressing similar sentiments, but Mark does a quite phenomenal job with his, and as it turns out, I hate looking at myself on video. My talents lean more toward the written word, so write I did. This is one of those blog posts that wrote itself, I served as transcriber. I hope it means something to you. What would YOU tell your 16 or 18 year old self?

 

Dear Karen at age 17

 

Hi there. It's me. I'm almost forty now. Stop it with that ridiculous gawk. 40 is the new 30, or so the media keeps telling me. Whatever, here I am, and there you are. I've got some shit to say, girl, so listen up.

 

First, you're doing a good job. Keep your chin up. Ignore the idiots at school. Whether it's the second or third school in four years, it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with them whether the kids accept you or not. Your family had to move around, so what? Should I tell you now that the Georgetown thing didn't work out? But don't despair. Northwestern was full of an incredibly great group of people, including some really cute guys. Well, one in particular. You'll love him. Really, you will. And Amy. Listen to her when she says stuff, she's got that wisdom thing you're always looking for.

 

Second, the fact that bouncing around in high school meant you took a bunch of ridiculous classes to fulfill ridiculous guidelines you didn't know existed, this is a bunch of crazy. And it matters not even a little bit when you move beyond, so just deal with it, embrace the experiences, you'll be fine.

 

You know what else? Be nice to that girl in French class. You're going to run into her again in about 18 years and you're going to help her with questions she has about breastfeeding her babies and she's going to be so glad and you're going to be the rock star. Yep, breastfeeding, taking care of the neighbor's kids when they were itty bitty will be a great foundation. Don't forget to thank mom, either. She gets touchy when you forget that she breastfed all five of us.

 

Third, don't get cocky about the idea that the kids at school think you're smart. Calc II will kick your butt and show you who's boss. And a C+ will feel like a mercy fuck and you will be grateful. I believe that marks the first time I've used the F word in this blog (it's a family blog!) - but you see, I care about you so much I had to say it so you'd get the point. Your life is bigger than Calculus II. Your life is bigger than the guy who wants to get into your pants when you're CERTAIN you're not ready for that. Your life is bigger than the people in the lunchroom who didn't notice you (be kind, they've been at the same school together a long time. You'd be the same if it were you. It's not your fault that it's not.)

 

But the most important thing I have to say is: He's. Not. Worth. It. But on the other hand, surviving it will make you stronger. You are awesome, and when you find him (the capital H him...), when you figure it out (be kind with yourself, it might take you a little time to figure it out. See aforementioned point about listening to Amy) you will feel that little click in your head, in your heart, and it's real. And it's all real. And they are real. They are PEOPLE, these two you create with your soul mate. They are beautiful and they love you more than the sun and the moon and all the stars in the sky. And you have GOT to be here to meet them, create them, be their mom. This is the most important thing you will ever do.

 

So, girl, don't you DARE think about cutting yourself. Your skin is just fine, even if a little blemished. Don't you DREAM about the other ways you can hurt yourself. You get down, you go TALK to someone. Mom and dad will help you find someone if you need. And the booze? Lay off a bit. Some of those guys who are not worth it think drunk girls are an invitation to be a sleaze. And if you can't lay off the sauce, get yourself a couple good girlfriends (see aforementioned point about Amy, yo. You need about three of her to get yourself through to age 40.)

 

Hey, sweetie, you need to be here. It is an awesome place to be. Can't wait to see you.

 

Love you,

 

xoxoxoxo

 

Me

Things that make my head burst into flames

I've been working in my chosen career since I was nineteen years old. I started as a part-time college intern. Three, four, five days a week I would drop my books and notebooks off in my dorm room, change into something that vaguely resembled business attire (back in the days when women did *not* wear pantsuits. And I'm not even making that up. I remember when the first woman in the area started wearing pantsuits to work - not pants/tops as separates, but like a men's business suit but cut for a woman. No, it wasn't the 1980s. It was the 1990s for chrissake! Oh, right, I'm old. Erp.) and hop the train into the city to go to work. There were days when I had to make sure to work at least two hours, because if I only worked one, I didn't quite make the train fare to/from work (at my starting rate of about $6.37/hr.)

I've worked more years than I haven't. And I took time off to raise my kids. Because it's something that was important to me, but it was also something that was the right timing for us - my career had reached a lull, I had lost one job and a new job wasn't quite the right fit for me, so we reconsidered priorities, wrote a budget, and...I've blogged about this before.

But the thing that has always made my head burst into flames is the fact that I work hard, damn hard, and just as hard as anybody else (harder than some, too.) And I'm quick. And productive. And my time is worth it. This is even more important in the post-baby-working-years because I have these heart-stoppingly painful conversations with my 7 year old, who tonight at bedtime when I was reviewing the week's schedule and mentioning when I would be in the office, told me "we're not going to have to have a babysitter again?" Because last week once I had to have a sitter take care of the kids after school for a few hours so I could do a video shoot at work. And she noticed. And while the sitter does a nice job, and the daughter benefits from other people in the world caring about her and interacting with her, she just doesn't like it. So rip my heart out and serve it on a platter, shall we? Ugh. This part about working is not the best part, but I console myself with the idea that I'm working and contributing and setting a good example, and I've got a pretty great part-time gig that flexes around my family's commitments and lets me be the mom most of the time and...then I read this sort of shit and it makes my head burst into flames. (that article references this one which is where the actual combustion occurs)

Because HOW CAN IT BE 2011 and this is still happening?!?!?

And how can a writer write this passage and not have her own head explode into flames?

Simply put, many women—not all, but enough to have a big impact on the statistics—are willing to trade higher pay for other desirable job characteristics.

Because I just don't get it.

Meanwhile, the original poster (the one who I agree with) says the following:

I would also love to know why, if pay is so equal, women with kids are paid less than men with kids. I'm sure that some will explain it by saying that women decided to take time off to raise up the young'ins, and therefore lose market share. I can see how that would affect lifetime earnings. However, I am confused as to why, then, a woman who is employed at a job with the same experience as a man still earns less than he does.

Exactly!

I heard this from a company I worked with when first returning to the my field after a 5 year gap to raise my babies. "Oh, the industry has changed, technology is different, therefore we'll pay you this lower rate because honestly you're 5 years behind but aren't you lucky to get to work with us?"

I went on to do development on a project when I was only assigned to do design (tech friends will know these pay at VERY different pay scales - and my background is tracked more toward design, though I'm learning now how to spin things so that this isn't as much of a factor) and discovered that while I was off for 5 years, what the industry did was build authoring tools to automate much of what we used to have to code by hand. The industry just basically caught up with me, and gave me additional tools to work with. I wasn't behind in the slightest. I still get mad thinking about this experience. Bah!

As my friend Veronica (a nuclear engineer from Argentina, and someone else who has chosen to do the kind of sequencing I've done, taking time off to raise children, planning to come back again to the workforce in the future) says, "Infuriating. It is a double discrimination: one that considers that the work of raising a child (a human being!!!) is useless and another one that sentences a woman to a lower wage because she was "wasting her time" while everybody else was doing more productive things. It makes me furious. I think that before this pay discrimination disappears, society must recognize - and include in the economy - child rearing work. Until these activities are not seen for what they are (an indispensable contribution to the development of the human race) we will be punished for raising our kids."

Is that what it is? A punishment? Why aren't we all marching on our various government offices *now*? Oh, that's right, because there are school lunches to make, diapers to change, babies to nurse, field trips to chaperone, teenagers to equip with the skills to survive their adolescence. And work to be done.

The tabbed browser...OF DOOM!

I have so many tabs open in my browser at the moment that I literally can't see what any of them say. I wish people would stop linking to such interesting articles!

Here's what it looks like:

Crazy, eh? (It's Rockmelt, a new browser that integrates social media sites into the sidebars of the browser, built on Chrome. I like it pretty much, have been using it for a few months. Still not sure how much I love it.)

But there are some amazing and important gems in my tabs...of DOOM, so let me share a few of the articles that have struck me in the last week or two:

First, this is the most important thing I've read in ages. It's an online presentation about art, creativity, being who you are, becoming who you are by virtue of what you create. It's fantastic, and every person who cares about being authentically you should read this. The rest of you imposters should keep moving along.

Which reminds me about this set of links on the Impostor Syndrome I read this week. You should read it, too.You are not an impostor.

And then there's this stuff about being a stay at home mom that I open in my browser and desperately want to reply to but don't really have the time. This is *important* work, being the at-home parent. Very important work. It's very often and very easily marginalized, though, in part by well-meaning hard-working parents who work outside of the home. Please understand I know each role has significant value, having played each role at many different times in the last 10 years. But being at home is *important.* It is *valuable.* It is *worthwhile work.* Those who choose, or by circumstances or life situations get forced into, this path need support, encouragement, and respect.

A friend linked to this awesome bit about Harry Potter, and honestly I can't get enough. HP Deathly Hallows Part 1 comes out on DVD soon!

Have I linked to this one before? Doing silly public art? I'm dying to do this with my children, maybe now that the weather is starting to improve. Or at least suck less. I love people who treat art with whimsy and view making others smile as an important way to spend their time. I do, too.

I'm sure you've seen some of the awesome articles about iPads and children with developmental delays, disabilities, and other limitations. I'm amazed at this tool that DIDN'T EXIST JUST 14 MONTHS AGO. Ponder that for a second. I already couldn't live without mine and I've only had it since Christmas.

We introverts are getting props so much more in the Age of the Internet. It's about damn time. Hey - I'm not socially awkward (except when I am) or antisocial (except when I've spent all day with PEOPLE) -- I'm just an introvert. I need some downtime. Computer time = downtime for me, even though it's also become one of my primary social interaction methods (asynchronous = ideal for people w/busy lives. Which I have. Which explains my extremely sporadic blog posting schedule.)

The posts I'm reading from teachers responding to the various crises in state legislatures that are bringing their profession into light are heartbreaking. My teacher friends are among my most important, most inteligent, most treasured for the way they see my children as people, whether they've ever "officially" taught my children or not.

This site is almost as good as Mila's Daydreams, (book next Jan, sign up for her mailing list!) In the first linked site, a Korean artist takes children's drawings and recreates them in scenes. The prince/princess on the stairs are absolutely magical.

An online author friend is trying out the epublishing thing. Like the rest of us. ;)

This site makes a great point about what carrying a baby does for them (hint: gives them things to look at/experience/interact with in the world. More people wanted to talk to me and my baby when I carried them than at any other time!)

My friend Melanie mentions a Once Upon a Time challenge in her blog that sounds really interesting...

One of my other imaginary friends (funny that so far each "friend" I've mentioned here is someone I know from online interactions only. Isn't that interesting? Remember that bit about introverts!? speaking of which - another article...) linked to a fascinating grant-giving organization called Saving Lives at Birth: The Grand Challenge for Development. My friends in the birthing and mother advocacy worlds might be interested.

Another imaginary friend (who I have actually met in person) has posted about the difference between delegating and abdicating control. This is something that is really familiar to me from the business world, but it's surprising to me in the recent discussions I have been watching on the state of the publishing industry how quick some authors are willing to abdicate complete control over their intellectual property - the words they bled and sweated over for ages. Scary. She doesn't do comments on her posts due to other commitments, but I love comments on my blog posts, so feel free to read and debate away, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Closing, you really need to listen to Sarah Kay talk about If I Should Have a Daughter. It's important.

A few of the things discovered while cleaning out the kitchen cabinet

You know, the one above the desk that I promised in my 11 things to get rid of in 2011 post to purge?

Yes, this is it, this is the post where I name names and even post pictures. Be afraid, be very afraid. If you're me, that is.

If you are very very lucky, and treat me nicely, I might even take some "after" pictures tomorrow so you can see what a good girl I was. In the meantime, though, you'll have to suffice with these pictures of the "before" scene (including the "before" of the desk itself, a biohazard zone, which I cleaned off in early December and HAS REMAINED CLEAN FOR AN ENTIRE MONTH. I expect a parade. And chocolate cake.)

I hope these help you feel better about yourself because *you* would never let the clutter overtake *your* life to this extent. Oh no.

Pay special attention to the upper cabinets (again, I cleaned off the desk absolutely ages ago. It hasn't looked like this in WEEKS. The cabinets have doors, we can pretend like crap isn't there by just closing the door. Magic.) But the uppers, pay attention, as some of these items will be featured prominently later.

Again, focus on the cabinets. I get that the desk was a pigsty but I've moved on.

Okay, here's a few of the things I discovered in the bottomless pit that is the kitchen cabinets:

1. At least 4 dozen bubble envelopes, all sizes and in all kinds of states of disrepair. There is a broken part of my brain that won't let me discard a potentially usable bubble envelope, even though there are dozens of other bubble envelopes in better repair just an arm's-reach away. (Left and right side photos, all over the flipping place. If there's a nuclear holocaust, have no fear, I can safely ship small breakables.)

2. 2 baby books, completely empty. In my defense, I've already put one into the giveaway bag. It was a Marshall's impulse buy when I thought I might prefer the binder style to the book style. At this point ANY style would suffice since the second child's life has not been properly memorialized in a baby book. (Upper left corner, darker yellow box.)

3. 1 key to a car we haven't owned in more than four and a half years. Yes, I checked.

4. Husband's high school class ring. WTF? (It was in a box of stuff from the kitchen cabinet of the old house. That we moved out of in 2003.)

5. Wall calendar ("Your baby's first year" or some such) from oldest's first year in which I meticulously documented what he wore every single day. I told husband about this tonight, and of course his natural reply was, "Why the heck did you do that?" You see, back when dinosaurs roamed the earth and the oldest was born, my camera printed on 35mm FILM and didn't keep track of the date and other metadata tags on each digital picture file. Because there WERE NO DIGITAL PICTURE FILES. At least not until I got a digital camera when the now-9 year old was about 4 months old. This also begs the question - didn't I have anything else to do? (answer: yes, I worked and I think this was my way of coping with the separation, I'd dress him each morning and log it on his calendar. Every day.)

6. Ticket stubs from Wiggles Live! The things we do for our children (they loved it.)

7. An incomplete set of tails for the donkey. No donkey. The donkey is MIA. If you have the donkey, have seen the donkey, or know anything about the donkey, I urge you to contact me ASAP to reunite donkey with his missing tails. I imagine his hiney is cold.

 

The importance of the Chorus

Like all 30-something women who are not dead, I am a fan of Glee. The music, the high-school hijinks, the whole thing just represents perfect television escapism. But something has bothered me from the very beginning. There are only a few stars on the Glee show choir. Rachel, Kurt, the loveable lunkhead whose name is totally escaping me. Even Puck, whose actor has a music career outside of the show, is generally relegated to chorus parts.

See, in life, I think part of me has always aspired to have the lead role. To be the top, to carry the show. But life's reality, as I've lamented about in my core story and perils of being a generalist posts, is often different than whatever my aspirations or expectations might have been. Not that this is a bad thing, because none of my whole parenting experience fit with my vision of my life as a parent, but my children changed me in beautiful ways and helped me become a different, better, more important me, I think. This is a very good thing. And I'm not a center-of-attention girl, I get self-conscious sometimes, I don't always want the pressure of having something interesting or important to say. I blush easily.

But for my kids? Don't I want them to shine? To be the star? To be the kids that everyone else is talking about? Their school is preparing a play for all kids in grades 4 and under. Each of my children has a role they'd like to have, they've been talking about it for days. Both have exceptionally good memories, so in my world this means they should aspire to have big parts, lots of speaking lines, because memorizing the lines will be cake to them. And then they can shine. And be the stars. Right?

Uh. They don't need to be the stars. We're not "starry" people, much. I mean, each has their moments of hamming it up with friends and family, and each has some comfort and confidence in a group - both are features I treasure because it took me quite a long time in my youth to come out of my shell enough to do either of those kinds of things. But they don't need to be the stars.

Because, you see, without the chorus, Rachel's notes just hang in the air. Kurt's voice is like nails on a chalkboard. And loveable lunkhead sounds thready and misty, one upper respiratory infection away from anihilation. The chorus rounds them out, fills up the sound, builds the background so that Rachel can break away with the melody and take our breath away.

And every so often, one of the other kids gets a solo.

I find myself wondering if in life, like musical-show-choir-based-television-shows, the role of the chorus is more than just the role of the background, but rather the build-up, the support, the structure of the whole. That was certainly the role of the Greek Chorus.

Among other things, the wikipedia article states:

In many of these plays, the chorus expressed to the audience what the main characters could not say, such as their hidden fears or secrets. The chorus often provided other characters with the insight they need.

So, shouldn't us backgrounders be satisfied with our roles in the background, with occasional forays into solo parts and center stage responsibility? What about you? Are you a member of the chorus, or do you play one of the leads? Are you comfortable in that role? Have you ever wondered if you were mis-cast?

Are we all waiting for our solos?

The Perils of Being a Generalist

I’m a generalist. Or, as some like to say, a know-it-all. I’m sure they mean that in the nicest sense. Right? I know a little bit about a lot of different things, and my interests take me here and there and back again, just like Bilbo Baggins.

But as I seek out my place in the world, particularly in this somewhat unusual online world we live in (not unlike that facebook group called “All of my friends live in a small village called facebook in my computer”) I find that there doesn’t seem to be a place for us generalists.

Everybody seems to have a “platform.” You know, a thing their blog is ABOUT. My Core Story blog post from the end of Reverb10 was an attempt to put a finger on what my blog is about, and even that I dodged.

The successful bloggers out there all seem to have these tight, focused messages (and while I’m a generalist, I’m not stupid and prefer success to failure.) Their blogs are about SOMETHING. Not everything, as my blog seems to be. I’m like that dog in UP, squirrel!

While this sort of thing doesn't normally bother me, in light of Gladwell's concept of taking 10,000 hours to become an expert at something, being an expert at nothing does kind of concern me a bit. Should it?

In no particular order, I’m interested/involved in:

• Breastfeeding (I’m a La Leche League Leader, so I have shown the ability to not just be interested in an area of content, but pursue additional information/study/apprenticeship to become a mini-expert in some subjects. Breastfeeding is one. But I'd never want to JUST do breastfeeding counseling.)
• Pregnancy and Childbirth
• eLearning – this is what my degree is in (well, sort-of. It was called different things back then. You know, when dinosaurs roamed the earth.)
• Children
• Childhood
• Parenting
• Being nice to your kids
• School
• Gifted Education
• Developmental psychology (as it relates to above subjects)
• Gardening/native wildflowers
• Vegetable gardening
• Cooking (the Six O'Clock Scramble is one of my favorite sites)
• Vegetarianism (whole family is ovo/lacto/pesce vege and have been since 2002)
• That awesome bread I’ve been talking about for the last few months
• Family
• Adult friendships (that whole “finding your tribe” thing)
• Asia (lived there in High School, have only in the last 2 years reconnected with that whole group of friends via facebook. For years we all just lost track of each other.)
• Cats
• Dogs (whippets in particular)
• Space
• Science Fiction
• Astronomy
• Meteors
• NASA
• Writing
• Art (fan of Magritte, Dali, Monet, Seurat, Pissarro, Rodin, Caillebotte, Frank Lloyd Wright, and a bunch of other random things including that guy who does the cool multiple-wood use furniture at the local art fair each spring.)
• Piano
• Guitar
• American Idol (recent convert)
• Glee

So what do you think? Is there a place for me, for us generalists on the big, bad web? Can we be about anything when we’re all about everything?

(image linked from the Art Institute of Chicago's Webpage.)

The most memorable gift of the year?

Reverb10 challenges me today to write about the most memorable gift I've given or received in 2010.

By far, it would have to be this, which is not an iPad:

(The chaise, not the dog, who was not a specific gift to anyone, though she is pretty nifty and we're glad to have her.)

If you don't know what I'm talking about, clearly you don't read my blog regularly! Here's where I explain this.

Best part? For Christmas I got...an ottoman to match the chaise! (Oddly enough, it came in an iPad box. Strange.)

I was sexually harassed as a young woman

I was sexually harassed as a young woman

I chose a particularly inflammatory title for this post. I wanted to catch your attention. Because honestly, if it could happen to me, I think it could happen to anyone.

A few relevant details: This happened AGES ago. I did not suffer any long-term psychological harm. It did not impact my performance or ratings at work.

But it happened. And if it happened to me, it can happen to you, your daughters, anyone.

I was twenty years old. It was late spring/early summer. I was a part-time intern during the school year, and a full-timer over the summer. Technology work, men far outnumbered women. He was thirty-two. He was not unattractive, but at 20, I knew he was so seriously old that it wasn't even funny. Yes, I recognize the irony of this statement lo these many years later and on the downslope side of 32…

He was not someone I would have ever considered dating due to the age difference (to be fair, there were others at work I did date/consider dating, but they were typically 2-5 years older, not 12. I thought 12 years older was scandalous. I was naive, did I mention that?)

His cube was next to the one where I worked with two other (male) college interns. He was new to the cube farm section we worked in, but not to the company, having come with a group of others from another assignment. I liked hanging out with this group, they knew things I didn't know. I learned a lot from them, they had interesting tech things to teach me. But this guy, he was a letch.

He eyed me from the beginning. I guess I knew somewhere inside that he thought I was cute, but aforementioned gross-out at the age difference, in my mind any romantic attention from him was totally inappropriate. I have no idea how or if I conveyed any of this. I was young and naive. Remember? Any of his odd advances were probably met with nervous laughter and a general "I'm going to get the heck out of here" response by me.

His comments weren't numerous, it wasn't a constant barrage of attention, I didn't fear for my safety, in the grand scheme of harassment, it wasn't much. But guess what? It was still harassment.

One co-worker joked, "Oh, it's cute, he's got a crush on you." It wasn't cute to me. It was creepy, unwanted attention. It mostly took the form of seemingly throwaway comments.

I remember distinctly being in that cube and looking for a computer to work on (back in the days of having to share workstations…only a few laptops per OFFICE if you can imagine such a barbaric time.) They were all occupied. His genius solution? "You can sit on my lap!"

I actually went back to my cube, found one of my college intern (male, and much more sensible) buddies and told him. We talked about it, and decided not to do anything at the moment, but we did write it down on a calendar (in veiled language lest the letch see it himself.) I'm grateful that I had someone at work I felt comfortable enough with to confide in.

Later that summer I was on a trip that included this guy, and we had downtime between events. A group of us went to the hotel swimming pool. I wore a tank-dress coverup over my (modest) one-piece swimsuit. He made some remarks about how "Well this isn't any fun. What, are we all coming down to the pool all covered up?"

Looking back, it is rather comical. It was a socially awkward geek who liked me (or at least the way I looked, I never got the impression that he was all that interested in what I had to say,) being, you know, socially awkward about how he conveyed it.

But here's the cautionary tale -- to me, a shy and reserved (but attractive to him) young woman, it was harassment, plain and simple. He made me feel uncomfortable, he creeped me out, and before long I was actively looking for ways to avoid contact with him.

I don't really know what happened after that summer. I went back to school and my part-time schedule. I lost track of him (accidentally on purpose?) He stopped hitting on me, I think, or making awkward and completely inappropriate comments, and I think he moved on to other work so he didn't occupy that cube next to me anymore.

It was a relief when he was gone. I stopped being nervous about what would happen if I were in that cube solo with him. I didn't have to put up with his gross comments anymore. But I didn't stand up for myself, I didn't tell him, "Yo, you're gross. Knock it off. This in inappropriate. You're making me feel uncomfortable."

I wish I did, but I didn't know how. File this under "Eleven Billion Things I Know Now That I Wish My Younger Self Had Known." And for all you young women entering this painful job market, or the big bad world of college, even high school - know this: You can, and you should say those things. Say it with me. "This is inappropriate. You are making me uncomfortable. You need to stop this behavior, now."