the pieces of my life

My computer is hosed. Dead. Kaput. And while we wait for service from Compaq, I’m reduced to using Adam’s computer for the few minutes I can pry him away from studying. Which means little blog time. So all the brillant things I have to say will simply have to remain unsaid. You will have to amuse yourselves for now.

You know, it’s harder to blog when things are right with the world. I have nothing to be sarcastic and cruel about. This weekend was a delightful weekend, with a visit from the Claire Bear and Dave. Yesterday, we walked all of Boston (or at least it seemed like that: we started out in Allston, walked through Harvard Square to the MIT Museum, and then traversed Newbury Street and finally made our way over to the North End). Today was spent eating waffles at home and then apple picking. Now, I need to figure out what to do with that massive bag of apples.

The MIT Museum is probably the coolest thing to do in Boston. Granted, it’s no Spam Museum, but it’s still definitely worth while. The section on robotics and artificial intelligence was quite interesting, even with the film narrated by Alan Alda, who didn’t always seem to be getting what was going on. One thing pissed me off though: the sections on the male scientists always referred to them by their full name (“when Adam Medros invented this, he…”) or their last name (“Medros was the first to realize…”), but the one female researcher was referred to continually by her first name (“and then Jenny created…”). How bizarrely and obnoxiously sexist is that? What I found really interesting, though, is that all the male researchers were trying to create these robots to do physical things, but the one female researcher, Dr. Cynthia Breazeal, is working on a robot that is a sociable robot. Kismet is made to resemble a human (with eyes, ears, mouth, and even eyebrows) and to mimic their emotions. I just find it intriguing that the women have gravitated toward this “emotional” kind of robot. I’m not exactly sure what to make of it. Anyway, there was also an exhibit of these cool mechanical sculptures by Arthur Ganson, the photography of Harold Edgerton (he’s the guy who took the pictures of bullets going through cards and apples and whatnot), a holography exhibit, and then a history of MIT. Oddly enough, in the MIT history, they had two yearbooks out for folks to look at, and it just so happened that I saw one and thought, “That looks awfully familiar!” Of course it did. It’s the same one sitting on my dad’s shelf at home, so I got to show Adam, Claire, and Dave what my father looked like at 21.

But what the hell! Happy birthday, anyway, Andy! I’ll dance to an Abba tune for you tonight.

I’m not really a computer person. When my computer starts wigging out, I just call Adam. But there are certain things I do know how to do that I simply take for granted. These are real live actual quotes from very intelligent people who did not just spend the last four years working at an Internet company:

• Wow, so Outlook will tell you when you have an appointment?
  
• Making folders was too much work. I just print out the e-mails I want to keep.
  
• You just put this list into Excel? How do you do that?
  
• You can make meetings with other people in Outlook? Oh, but no one here uses their Outlook calendar.
  
• We don’t need an e-mail list. You can just put in everyone’s name from your Contacts.
  

and my favorite…

• Did you know you could sort e-mails in Outlook by name?

I still turn on my computer and go to check my stocks first thing in the morning. Why can’t I remember: East Coast. East. Hard for me to get in my head that the markets don’t open until 9:30 out here. I miss Pacific time.

200-mile bike rides? Piece of cake. Triathlons? Do it in my sleep. Half-marathons? Please!

I thought I was tough. I thought could take on any physical challenge.

I have met my match: Spinning. Fast, slow, stand, sit, uphill, downhill. Kicked my ass. Wow. I got sick of feeling draggy so I finally joined a gym. After giving it great thought, I went with the more expensive Gold’s Gym rather than the plush, nice new BU gym. Sounds weird, I know, but two things: 1) the BU gym closes at many of the school holidays, which means no access during the winter holidays, when I often need to work out most, and 2) for those of you who know me well, I’m a morning person. If I can’t just roll out of bed and into the gym first thing in the morning, I’m just not going to make it at all. Gold’s is a 15 minute walk from the house (but who are we kidding? Like I would ever walk there). I can come home and shower without all the fuss. And, their spinning class–three days a week–is at 5:45 a.m., which is perfect for me.

I already hurt. Yikes.

Nanoscary

I’m feeling a little out of my geek league in Nanowrimo this year. The posts are going wild in the forums and if you check some of them out, whoa. People are posting their pictures, telling their life stories, and essentially making this way more social than necessary. I want to write a novel. And I’d like to organize some group writing/coffee/drinking events. I do not want to post to a board everyday. The board has been open for two days. Someone has already posted 77 messages. These sure are people who will have time to write. Is anyone else out there partaking this year? I’d love to be able to commiserate with friends on this one again, even if it is via e-mail.

Yes, last year it was painful. Yes, it was torture. Yes, I beat myself up over it on a daily basis. And yes, not only am I signing up to do nanowrimo again, but I am signing up to be a Boston Municipal Liaison. I have surpassed geek. I am now uber-geek. And proud of it. This year’s novel will definitely be based on my work experiences on some large, yet-to-be-named, Seattle-based Internet retail store. Of course, I don’t have a plot yet. But as the wise folks at nanowrimo say, no plot, no problem.

Almost Like Home

Work is divine. What else can I say about a job where I stress about commas, concoct story ideas, and prepare for interviews. I spend time in the library researching, sit in on classes in preparation of articles, and my coworkers are smart and interesting. Life outside of work is improving. A lovely dinner with a local (thanks, Jpeck, for the intro!) that made me feel like there are people here I would actually get to know better. The weather is turning, the leaves are brightening, and my schedule is full of plans. And my early schedule allows me to get full days in. Leisurely after-work dinner and drinks still had me home before I would have gotten home from work at my Seattle job. It’s starting to feel like home.

Stepford Jenny

And the submission doesn’t end there. It’s futile. I cannot fight it. I’m giving in to the CWITs. They have an activity planned that is so clearly designed to prepare me for trophey-wifedom that its intentions are irrefutable, and yet I have succumbed. It’s a fashion show. At Ann Taylor. And I will be attending. What can I say? Free food and a 10% discount on everything in the store. Repeat after me. “Yes, dear.” “Whatever you say, dear.” “Let me cook you dinner, dear.” One of us. One of us. One of us.

No, not you! There, you in Miami Beach. The brown-haired lady with the bad memory. It’s your birthday! Happy Birthday, Mom!

Each day that I don’t blog just adds to the guilt I’m feeling for neglecting my one outlet of stress (other than beating on Adam, but that’s getting old at this point) and the easiest way I have to communicate with my friends who don’t live in Boston. Things have just gotten so out-of-hand busy, though, that I feel like I barely have time to eat, never mind blog. Adam and I have officially entered the Harvard stage where we don’t see each other anymore. (Which means those of you who had any thoughts about us having a baby can just banish them from your mind for at least a year, because last I heard, to get pregnant, the man and the woman had to be alone, together, in the same room for more than the “gotta run” peck on the cheek.)

Breaking Up Is Hard to Do

Last weekend, I spent a brief, brief time in Seattle before heading to Poulsbo for Mary’s wedding. My friends kept saying, “Aren’t you glad to be back,” and I kept telling them, “Not really.” As I described it, it’s like I’ve just recently broken up with Seattle. Oh, I’ve got a new boyfriend (his name is Boston, and he’s much more urbane and complicated than Seattle. He has depth and vitality), who I like just fine. Sure, he’s not Seattle. But Seattle and I are over. Yet, the wound is too fresh. Needs to heal a bit more. Basically, I’m just not ready to be friends yet. So, no, I really wasn’t all that psyched about my trip back. But yes, the wedding was so beautiful, it made me forget that I was in turmoil.

And the Bridesmaid Wore a… Collar

The place Mary chose for her wedding was stunning. The food was superb. But the best part was the procession, which included Mary’s dog, Anna. Anna isn’t always the most obedient of dogs (one of her more endearing traits). As many of you may know, I’m not a dog person (cats are the way to go), but even I can grudgingly look on Mary’s mutt and work up some feelings of affection. Everyone is sitting outside in the outdoor garden. And from outside the trees, about halfway down to the restaurant, you can hear the bride yelling, “Anna. Anna! Get back here Anna!” But Anna finally behaved and with only the most minor of detours made it, with her floral collar, to the front. The only–only–negative to the wedding was the officiant had the entire crowd sing to the bride and groom. That part was very nice. But the song he chose was “Skinny Marinky Dinky Dink.” I’d never heard of it. And now, it’s been playing nonstop in my mind since the wedding. Make it stop!

Scrapbook This!

The partners club is sending out notice after notice about scrapbooking. Who knew that it was such the popular event. We can work on our scrapbooks next Tuesday, if we’d like, although keep in mind that this is not an “official” scrapbooking event. That won’t be for another two weeks. And we all know how folks get when they can’t get their scrapbooking fix! Why don’t they ever have a Martini Night. I’d go. Even if it weren’t an official event.

Work, the Old-Fashioned Way

As we all know, I never discuss work here. But I will say it’s been most enjoyable so far, the people are wonderful, and nothing is done on computers! They use paper! Real live dead-wood paper. Bizarre! In fact, I get fewer than eight e-mails a day (even in my first week at Amazon, I was receiving about 50 a day. When I left, that number was usually between 150 and 200 in a day). They arrange meetings by e-mail or phone. No Meeting Maker, no Outlook meetings. People use the kind of calendars you use a pen on. The style sheet is a word document. Let me tell you, it is taking me no time at all to adjust to this new alien way of working. Also, I’m in a large cubicle that faces a window. I have a perfect view of Fenway (and no, I can’t see the games themselves, although if I peer enough, I can make out the scoreboard). But, the even better thing about this view, I’m told, is we face an art school. Yeah, yeah, art school. Big whoop. Well, they have naked models. (Let’s see what kind of folks search for the term “naked” and anything else and are terribly disappointed when they come up with my site.) Time to invest in binoculars, methinks.

Not that I’m on e-bay, bidding on items I shouldn’t be bidding on, because we’re watching our funds, but you’ve got to check this site out. Some unbelievable stuff out there!