Getting Organized

So I’m sick. And of course, I’m sick two days before my Chinese New Year party. Fucking A. I just realized this year that this getting sick business is a recurring pattern with me: invariably, I come down with something following some combination of travel, allergy attacks, and mental stress. My body is a fucking unreliable whimpy-ass mess.

That said, I should have known better. P has three cats… Two of her own plus one that she fosters. Typically, I pack my own sheets and what not. This time, I was trying to go all minimal. Mistake one. Then, I’ve been doing the saline rinses and have been off allergy meds for a long time. Well, I should have prepped in advance by going back on the meds, bc holy shit, I was sneezing repeatedly with eyes watering nonstop and my throat closing up. We ran out to get Allegra, plus she gave me a new bottle of nasal spray. Things got dramatically better, but shit. I’m sure it compromised my immunity. Couple that with many late sleepless nights… One night we went out on the town (I don’t think I’ve EVER really enjoyed the “see and be seen” thing no matter how much SATC makes it look fun.) The other nights we stayed in, but I was up late reading my book, doing my online course, etc. I know, I don’t know how to fucking re-lax. Meanwhile, when I did finally fall asleep, the cats went bonkers, running all over the apartment, with one meowing and wailing to no end. WTF is wrong? We didn’t know, and he didn’t appear to be in pain. I had a dream the second night, and it was somehow about me uncovering a sex trafficking ring. I woke up heart pounding and breathing hard. I don’t know why I dreamed that. I don’t think I was thinking about it… But it was super disturbing. And fuck man, that is reality.

My final night in LGB, we went over to her classmate’s Super Bowl party. That’s where I befriended Sadie, the gigantic Great Dane. I like P’s friends, but man, I really hate watching sporting events with people. Mainly, I can’t stand listening to the constant criticism. You know, like people getting mad at the players for making stupid plays or whatever. There’s name calling and then when the athletes cry or look visibly upset, people don’t even care. They say shit like, “Don’t you worry about him: he’s taking home a hefty paycheck.” I mean, totally true but hello, money isn’t the answer to everything. And I dunno. I admire people who care about their jobs and take their work seriously. They want to do well and when they don’t, it’s disappointing. Show some fucking compassion.  And the irony is, the people who are criticizing these athletes are the ones stuffing their faces without an ounce of discipline. Annoying.

Anyway, her classmate was showing me her leather studio where she designs belts, purses, festival harnesses/phone holsters, and key chains with her neighbor/craft partner, a young college lady whose mom buys all the supplies for them. Long story short, the neighbor’s mother has an entire crazy back story. Like seriously, straight out of the movies: former model in Miami, married a plastic surgeon, he experimented on her, fucked up her face so badly that he wouldn’t let her leave the house for fear of ruining his reputation, so he drugged her and kept her in hiding for YEARS!! I mean, for real. I Googled her story and was so so horrified after that. And then that triggered a whole new cascade of negative thinking about so many things: vanity, shame, abuse, resilience… Why are people so crazy and evil?

Meanwhile, I haven’t even been following politics lately but wth, Trump won NH?!?!?! The world is just too much. So instead of getting myself into a hysterical tizzy/vortex, I’m trying to redirect my anxiety around menial shit like getting organized. The garage has mostly come together. I still need to get rid of extra junk but between EBay, Freecycle, donations, and garbage, I am seeing some progress– slow and steady.

Yesterday, I almost posted Marty’s big crate for sale, but thankfully, I had the foresight to consider my post-Marty doggie and shit, I might need to crate train. Shrug. Then there’s all that demo waste still on the side of the house. I called a junk removal vendor, and the quote was kinda high. Incidentally, I discovered this week that the city gives you three “on call plus” pickups where they will haul your waste from your curb. Free. So of course, I’m now going to do that, but it just means I have to wait until next Wed and then schlep all that crap from the side of my house to the curb. Bags and bags of crap plus demo waste… Maybe I will use our wheelbarrow.

Inside the house, we are getting our closets redone next week, so that’s exciting but then you gotta clean everything out of there before the crew comes. More schlepping of stuff from one place to another and back. The tedium is almost enough to make me cancel the whole operation. Is this what people do?? I mean, same drill with carpet steaming right? People like move their furniture out and back. I must have a super low threshold for inconvenience. Oh well, suck it up for the closets. The installation is happening after Prez Day, so I’m ready for the more organized phase of “best life.” People say the physical clutter/disorganization contributes to the mental clutter and anxiety, so maybe this will help me not dream about sex trafficking and not hate people. 😛

Ok, my nose is running like a goddamn faucet. Time for a hot drink with honey and apple cider vinegar (trying something new) and a nap.

Lessons in Long Beach

Empathy and tough love. My friend P. We’re good friends, maybe even kinda like sisters (though I don’t have a real blood sister to truly compare), and yet after a weekend together, I’m feeling a bit tired and eager to get home. I think what drains me and perhaps reinforces just how moderate of an extrovert I truly am, is the emotional support and frequent feedback. I mean, being a friend is hard work!

She’s at a stressful time in her life. Both of us are women right at 40 or the cusp of 40, so I get all the expectations we and others have for us at this point in our lives. We’re supposed to be confident, settled, accomplished, certain (and of course, still beautiful, intelligent, in shape, whatever…). P and I both made choices that led us down different, somewhat circuitous and unconventional paths, so maybe we lost some time. Then again, no one, including ourselves, really gives a shit about the why. Maybe we’re just in this phase of feeling disappointed and somewhat mournful: we failed to attain our goals by this preset (and yet totally arbitrary) timeline.

So we were in somewhat sullen moods, but it was good to spend time together. And we did a lot this weekend: we walked along the beach (88 degrees!!), did yoga in the park, went out downtown, made dumplings, toured her campus, met up with friends… Sometimes though, our differences (I’m still a misfit after all) frustrate me. Throw into that, some cultural influences, and I just feel unsettled. See, there I go again, always wanting things to be so damn black and white.

So P and I had this discussion on Sunday about communication. What if a guy contacts you the day of to see you later that day. Do you agree to see him, or turn him down, saying you have plans even if you don’t? Huh? Is this a real question? I mean, if I want to see someone and I honestly have zero plans, I go.

Oh hell no! He can’t think a lady is just waiting around for him, being all available. If he wants to date me, he needs to put thought into it and schedule it and make plans.

Is it just me, or wtf??? I mean, shit. You didn’t have plans. And maybe you should have made the plans if that’s what you wanted. But you didn’t initiate so now someone else does and you’re being critical bc he didn’t plan ahead?? That expectation shit just drives me insane. Stop playing silly games! Life is complicated enough. Saying yes or initiating a meet up doesn’t make you desperate or cheap or easy, unless you go over there and are desperate, cheap, and easy. And then this insistence on complication isn’t even limited to romantic relationships. It often gets applied to friendships too. Who among you are living like this?? Another example: P and I made plans for brunch with her friends who are also good acquaintances of mine. They bailed last minute and P was annoyed that they backed out of plans. It’s brunch, who cares, but she was kinda stressed on how and what to respond. I’m like, we still go to brunch and if they can’t go, we’ll see them another time. Done. She claims her reaction is cultural: if you commit to something, you don’t back out. Um, except that Latinos are notorious for being late, so um, maybe if you commit to something, you should also respect people’s time?? Doesn’t make sense to me. And honestly, I don’t even know why I’m getting so frustrated by this, but I am. Actually, I kinda feel like I’m talking to my mother.

Later, another friend of P’s invites her and a third person to salsa Saturday night. The third person can’t go, so P says if she were organizing, she would coordinate a different time so everyone could make it, whereas the organizer in this case just said, “Ok, sorry we’ll miss you!” Done. P was kinda surprised by how easy/nonchalant the reaction could be. Obviously, friendships run the gamut:  there ARE different tiers but shit, it’s just plans for a Saturday night among three local friends. I’m not going to accommodate every single person every single time. It’s NOT that important. Even for like a wedding. Do you ask all the guests if they can go and then move the date if they can’t? No. This is the date. Join if you can, but the show goes on regardless. Am I missing something here?

Maybe this hits on issues of inclusion. As someone who spends a lot of time alone, P wants to be included. I get that. I have been excluded, shunned, uncool, bullied, left out. But at the same time, should the expectation be that others are responsible for including her? No. Change your paradigm about inclusion/exclusion, or initiate your own activities to build your tribe. You don’t get to be passive and then blame others for lacking consideration or empathy. Ugh. Sometimes I think there is just too much hand holding and baby gloving with relationships.

So yeah, these conversations bugged me, bc we didn’t see eye to eye and something about her stance just felt so unnecessarily limiting. It really reminded me of my mother and how she used to always criticize me for being too dominant or straightforward in my relationships. “Guys want to play the game! Guys want the thrill of the chase.” Uh ok, but I’m not a hunted animal. It was as if she wanted to shame me into being demure and passive. Again, perhaps these are different cultural constructs of gender roles? Ultimately, I think P is just wanting to be true to herself and comfortable in her own skin. Fair enough. But if your way isn’t working and you aren’t getting the outcomes you desire, you have to change your approach. Radical honesty, bitches!

Undecided

The final week of my job, I had lunch with a former intern. J is a junior journalism student, and she is everything that youth embodies: optimism, promise, energy, enthusiasm. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t begrudge her any of those good things: she’s a smart, cognizant lady who has a great future ahead.

She was curious about my next plans after this social media stint in higher ed. Sometimes as a supervisor and/or an older adult, I feel like I should be wiser or more responsible and serve as a guide or a mentor. But this particular day, I didn’t know how to couch my response tactfully. I lamented that I worry how social media is changing the way people communicate; for example, I often feel overwhelmed following a gabillion feeds stuffed with content that’s insignificant and unimportant. I currently feel directionless and uncertain. I admire her decisiveness: knowing what she wants and unabashedly exploring journalism in all its various facets. J was incredibly supportive and understanding, even though deep down, I felt somewhat ashamed that as a near 40-y/o I still hadn’t figured out my life. The lunch ended well: I have every confidence that J will continue to do amazing things. She just has that zest and indomitable spirit– something that after wrapping up, I wondered if I ever had.

The next day, a book was left for me at the front desk. J had dropped off Undecided, with a note saying that our conversation over lunch made her think of this book written by her mentor, a journo prof at the university. I skimmed the early pages and back cover, and I was simultaneously moved and intrigued by my intern’s thoughtfulness. She was really listening when we talked over lunch, and this book seemed pleasantly appropriate.

This week, I started making some serious progress with the book, and I have to say, it is hitting on so many key themes. In some ways, it generalizes this tendency towards indecision among women Gen Yers, talking a lot about growing up over scheduled and overparented surrounded by an abundance of choice. It talks about a generation of girls being groomed from a very young age, to really believe that every step and every decision they make is of utmost importance. These girls start prepping for the right schools, taking test prep courses, being super involved in extracurriculars. Parents drill into their heads that they can do anything. My parents were certainly very involved with my academics: expectations were definitely high, and I felt tremendous pressure even as a middle schooler to not only excel but also make the right decisions for my future and equally as importantly, to NOT FAIL. Decades later, I can look back and smh at how serious and ridiculous and unrealistic I was. But damn, that habit/obsession/mentality developed over so many years, and clearly, I was/am not the only one. And to this day, my father insists that I made a mistake in taking organic chem my freshman year.

The book talks also about tying identity to accomplishments under the false or misleading premise that we women can “have it all.” Unfortunately though, the abundance of choice coupled with overstimulation/bombardment of information results in decision fatigue, paralysis, and in turn, an even stronger regret/fear of failure.

The path forward I think lies somewhere between conserving and prioritizing energies, understanding true opportunity cost, and acknowledging that sometimes you just don’t know until you try. The other tidbit is that everyone’s got their beef. You look at others, and it’s easy to adopt the “grass is greener” mentality, but the cold hard truth is that everyone is dealing with some kind of baggage or bullshit or issue. Life is a constant fucking jumbled mess. Edit and simply where possible to conserve energy for what’s most important, but no matter what, know that life is imperfect and a fucking pain-in-the-ass work in progress.

So concretely, how does this translate for me?

* Continue learning to dance or play ukulele or _____, but don’t expect that skill level to be anything close to legit or pro. These activities are just for fun; learn to really embrace that concept.
* Trim down the media consumption. It takes up too much space and clutters the psyche.
* Focus and learn new skills in series, not in parallel. Put a stake in the ground and go with it for some time. If that path doesn’t pan out, create a post-mortem to understand why and then put a new stake in the ground and move towards a new path.
* Know when to apply “good enough.” Maybe the job doesn’t have to be your passion. Maybe the job is meant to just provide routine and structure so your creative brain can thrive during the off-hours. Maybe satisfy your passion through some other means.

So yeah, obviously, none of these are new concepts: I have certainly held them at some point or another. Or Bubs has given me advice along these lines… Still, the takeaway here is to edit/simplify to narrow focus and minimize decision fatigue, remove the self-imposed timeline/pressure to make the “right” decision, and adopt a growth mindset. Sounds easy enough, right? Ok. Ready, set, go!

At the Club

So I’m mentally preparing for hip hop class #2 tonight. The first class actually wasn’t as bad as I had expected. There were only about ten students, and 3 or so were adults. Also, even the level of my classmates wasn’t that impressive compared to the other hip hop class I took many years ago. Of course, I still tried real hard to concentrate. Fuck man, no matter how easy the teach claims the movements are, I just have no concept on how to make my body move and contort in those ways. Teach is some white homeboy who’s super tatted up. I know my class is 13 y/o and up and all, but some of the music selection was def questionable for the younger (well and older) end of that spectrum. Seriously, I don’t need to be listening to people moaning and groaning all 2 Live Crew style. And of course, about NONE of the songs were familiar to me; then again, are we surprised? I’m perpetually stuck in the 80s and 90s.

The first half of class was focused on warm ups, and despite my 15+ months of inactivity, I was able to keep up. Then, we got into the choreography. Damn, that term sounds so legit, right? First move? Squatting to the right side and pumping the upper body. I tried it a number of times: I think I ended up just pumping my arms but not flexing my torso. Fuck, I have no idea. Then homeboy says, “Pump it! Come on, you know, pump it like you’re at the club.” I just stood there and stared at him blankly. Seeing the cluelessness in my face, he proceeds to demonstrate like he is humping an imaginary tree. Dude, I’m here to learn hip hop, not all this trashy bumpin’ and grinding. Fuck, there is a difference right??

Needless to say, I focused hard that night, and I am happy to report that one week later, I still remember the entire routine— which is obviously like 1/10 of a real routine but whatever. Baby steps. Of course, I just do the sequence of events… I don’t pair it with a step count, and I def don’t put it to music. So yeah, basically I’m just going through the motions. I’m telling you, I can’t feel the beat or rhythm or ANYTHING.

And he had us do this butt slap move followed by a spin and squat. I quasi-pulled my calf muscle. Yes, this is 40, mother fuckers. Thankfully, I wasn’t totally out of commission so I continued in class but still, I know the truth and it is disappointing as hell. Of course, as luck would have it, he starts a new routine every two weeks, so I can just chuck every damn bit that I learned. Today is all new.

Admittedly, I should practice more. I did find a series on Howcast called Hip Hop Dance Moves for Kids. It seemed a little more up my alley with the good, clean fun and all.

Poop Pressures

So this happened two weekends ago, but I’m going to share so you can “laugh at my pain,” as Kevin Hart says. So yeah, Bubs and I were in Santana Row for the Container Store (elfa shelving). Because I slept in late, we ended up not getting there until lunch time. I was feeling hungry, so fine, let’s eat at our old standby Pasta Pomodoro. I got my usual: gorgonzola ravioli. Delish. Even though we had never dined at this particular location, we have certainly eaten at many PP, and they are consistently good. Well not. this. time.

I mean, the meal tasted awesome going down, but after our stint with the closet expert, as soon as we got out of TCS, the shits came on fast and strong. I went to the closest coffee shop bathroom, and I swear to god, it was occupied FORever. Minutes went ticking by as my bowels tore themselves apart. Finally, we decided to head home and of course, we hit every goddamn fucking red light possible. In the car, which John already drives all herky jerky, I started sweating, so we blasted the AC. Then, I was freezing, then hot again then cold. Repeat. Holy fuck. We just barely made it home, and then my body was exhausted as hell from trying to keep that shit (literally) under control for 20 minutes. Jesus Christ. What a close call!

Picking Pennies

My first few days of freedom have been pretty darn good. Nothing super dramatic or exciting like jet setting to exotic islands or lounging on the beach in the South Pacific, but I’ve definitely been enjoying that feeling of having time. It’s so weird but whenever I’m working, I just get into this crazy zone where I dunno, so many aspects of my life just fall to the wayside. Now, it’s so refreshing to NOT be all about work all the damn time! I’m only a few days in, and although my quality of sleep has not yet improved (Marty is digging frantically in his bed again at night– it sounds like someone is scratching to get out of a coffin!), just being able to sleep in definitely gives my body some needed rest the morning after.

This week, my main focus has been tackling home organization. Our garage cabinets from Bay Area Home and Window got installed while my dad was here earlier this month, and I followed the suggestion of the professional home organizer to get uniform storage containers: big clear bins from Costco and then small and large clear shoe boxes from The Container Store (TCS). In the past, I really hated that overpriced yuppie store, but as it turns out, if you buy the shoe boxes in cases, it’s actually more affordable. That and well, I guess Bubs and I are yuppies now. Lately, John has been saying over and over that he needs to start living his “best life” now, and part of that means he wants his home to be nice. Admittedly, I definitely run on the cheap/low standards end for “nice”– maybe I never outgrew my college makeshift furniture mode– but I am trying to get on board with Bubbey. So, TCS is having their big elfa closet sale right now. Last weekend, we went into the store with our closet measurements and met with the designer. She was really fast and responsive, so we’re going to give this elfa thing a try in our bedroom closets. Of course, I had to go about a very specific way of purchasing, to maximize my Bubbey Bucks.

You see, I learned about Upromise two years ago from that job networking group in Sunnyvale. Basically, it’s a program where you earn cash back for online purchases by going through a referral website rather than going directly to the store website. Sure, the money takes a while to deposit into your account, and some transactions (like via mobile tablet or phone) don’t get logged at all (buggy). My friend K tried Upromise a few months ago and HATED it. She prefers Ebates, which processes the transactions almost immediately. But Upromise has higher cash back percentages, so you know that’s where I go! Recently, I earned $150 back from T-mobile for activating two new devices; plus, I scored some decent bucks with 5% back on hotel bookings (for my work and John’s work) and other larger ticket items like car tires. The day-to-day stuff doesn’t earn that much but still, at 5-10% cash back (like for TCS or for clothing stores), it adds up. So far, I’ve earned over $400! LMK if you’re interested, and I can hook you up with a referral, and then we both score $20!

In other news, I ran a gabillion errands the other day: seriously, I am amazed how much more I can get done when no one else is at the fucking stores. I went to the regular supermarket, the vet office, Costco, then the gas station. Incidentally, I decided to empty out the contents of my cute car trash bin. Well I had forgotten that I was weighing the bin down with a ton of pennies to keep it from tipping over. So all of those damn pennies went rattling through the gas station garbage bin. And yes, I tried to re-collect them. Now before you start judging me, let me share a story about my father.

He called me the other day to ask if Dulles Airport is open 24/7. The reason? He doesn’t want to inconvenience his friend who is giving him a ride to the airport. Dad’s flight is at 6 am, so his plan is to have his friend drop him off at Dulles at 10p (a reasonable hour). Then, he will just sleep at the airport until his flight that morning. Uh, dad, why don’t you just take a cab or a SuperShuttle? You can take SuperShuttle from your friend’s house (about 30 min to the airport compared 60 min to his home), and it’s $30. “No, this is fine.” When I told Bubbey my story about the pennies, he warned me about nipping that shit in the bud, bc I am very well on that path to being my father sleeping at the airport for seven hours. The fruit don’t fall far from the tree.

What else. So yeah, I have been organizing my shit big time. Damn, even just packing up my office crap and bringing that home… I had a ton of junk. With the elfa closet makeover, I am going through my clothes and purses and bags… purging and making more room. I also started deep cleaning the house. Fuck man, I busted out my vacuum attachments for the first time ever. Sucked up all the damn crud that fell between the couch cushions and along the baseboards. Jesus Christ, John and I are fucking slobs!!

I’ve been pretty productive these last few days. John has been telling me to chill the fuck out and not be so goddamn task oriented. I can’t help myself though. Today I sat in on a webinar about an online web development boot camp. Right now, the following career possibilities are on the table: web dev/UX/product management, real estate, project management (PMP certification), Salesforce certification, freelance social media/digital comm work. I’m not gonna lie, but I fantasize about running my own gig with flex hours and lots of remote work. Those options seem to allow for that…

I’m currently reading a book recommended by my student intern. It’s called Undecided, and it’s basically about women on this unending search for career fulfillment, partly bc they have too much choice these days (compared to the previous generation). I’m early in the book, so it’s too soon to tell…

Tomorrow I’m getting back on the yoga bandwagon. Sure, I started that hip hop class last Monday, but it’s only 4 classes total, and given how fucking sore I am after the first class, I have a long ways to go before I get back to my old days of glory. So yup, I bought a few Groupons and it’s back to sweating my brains out. After all, the big 4-0 is like that heat coming around the corner!! Get busy livin’ or get busy dying!!

Vegas to the Homestretch

Overall, my dad’s visit went much better than expected. I think he had a good time, and I’m pleased with the level of travel and activities we did outside of the house. We parted ways the day after MLK, with dad flying straight home from Vegas and John and me back to the Bay Area. Of course, the day before, John commented that he wanted to touch down before noon rather than after noon, so we switched our itinerary to fly out earlier. As it turned out, SFO was getting another dousing of rain, so our flight got delayed. Thankfully, I moved fast and asked the gate agent about flying into SJC instead. It was 6:50a, and she switched us for free to a 7:15a flight. So yeah, we headed out of Sin City early, in time to be back behind our desks by 9a. Workaholics, man. They CANNOT be helped.

Most people say their final week on the job is super lax. Unfortunately, not my experience. Last time I ditched The Man, the last week was crammed up to the wire with me training my interim replacement. Same deal this time. The interim was a previous staffer from a different department. She crashed my office, and we spent my last week practically attached at the hip. Ok, not that bad but there was a TON of info transfer, and my final days were intense. She’s a cool lady, and interestingly, we are both ESTJ. She was all surprised to learn I am an E. I’m full of surprises, woman. Don’t try to put me into a box! Haha.

I feel good about the systems I implemented and how I organized my files. The overlap period was helpful, and I have full confidence that everything will be fine. On Thursday, I had lunch with the Cool Club at the office. Who doesn’t enjoy a love fest? Then on Friday morning, my boss organized an office-wide goodbye breakfast. That was really thoughtful and nice too. I said a few words, cried a few tears, etc. Of course, the interim AVP was in the office but didn’t join, which I’m actually glad about bc my words of gratitude didn’t apply to her anyway! I definitely didn’t make the same strong connections here like I did at the previous workplace (in part, bc I was only here 15 months instead of 6 years), but there are still a lot of good people, and it pisses me off when they are mistreated and disrespected.

In the afternoon, I had my exit interview with HR. In typical Vix fashion, I had a lot to say. I tried my best to come across thoughtful (rather than spiteful), intelligent, and compelling. I only met with the HR analyst for 30 min, but she acknowledged that I had put a lot of time into my feedback. I gave her a verbal summary, and she said up until now, she hadn’t heard a thing about our department. She said my charges sounded quite serious, and she would read my file more closely and escalate to the head of HR.  But she also said that right now, it was still just one person’s viewpoint against another’s. I assured her that my sentiments went beyond just me, but I understood her position. Unless people go forward, I’m just one person who perhaps has a beef with another. I suggested a 360 review to ask the staff about their thoughts on the recent leadership changes, and she seemed receptive. I hoped that she would understand the gravity of the situation, as I was departing NOW without another job and without obtaining my retirement benefit at the 2-yr mark. She said that spoke volumes, and she promised me she would spend the time to look into this.

As I drove home, I was overcome by emotion. Despite my defiance in taking such a strong stance, there is a part of me that understands there may be consequences to my radical honesty. My file will be read by my immediate boss and by the interim AVP, since she is my boss’ boss. Maybe she will contact me or approach me or blackball me among her very wide circle of influence. There was an incident in the office this last week where she physically approached my colleague who was asking questions and not backing down. This was during a department meeting, so witnessed by multiple people. I wasn’t there, but the act of her getting into my colleague’s face definitely touched off a storm in the office. To me, her move sounded like physical intimidation, so maybe it’s not completely outlandish that she would approach me somewhere and get in my face… 

And what if HR did in fact send out a 360 review? Would my coworkers actually take the time to be honest with their feedback? Or would I just end up looking like an unruly child, making unwarranted claims, coming across like someone with authority issues? After I got home, I climbed into bed. Why do assholes get away with this kind of behavior? Why do people not speak up and defend themselves? Why had I not even approached the AVP in person to give her a piece of my mind? Goddamn, maybe I hadn’t done enough or maybe what I had done was all out of order??

When John called, I said all these things, and he just kept telling me to let it go. I wrote what I had wanted to say and now the rest is out of my control. He said there was zero chance the AVP would contact me upon seeing my criticism. He also said he doubted anything would happen for the department. Institutions like that are systemically flawed. They don’t have the right people or mechanisms in place to enact real change and make things better.  His comments reminded me of a coworker who was so surprised that I had bothered to write any real feedback in my exit form. He too said he had zero faith that any of the effort would result in anything.

This is what I mean when I say that I’m just dumb, naive, and unfit for this life. Why do these people understand so easily that this is sometimes how the world works: You have asshole bosses and they get away with shit, and you either accept that or you leave. If you leave, you save yourself and you remove yourself from the bad situation. 

People who stay have their reasons. Clearly, the situation is tolerable for them. It’s not anyone’s job to try and change the environment for people who are ok with it. That same coworker wrote me an email after I got home that said I cared too much and I worked too hard. And then I just felt sad, disappointed, defeated, unsophisticated, and flawed. I went to bed.

The next day, I felt better knowing that no matter what, I didn’t have to return to that place come Monday. I wouldn’t have to be pushed and angered on a daily basis anymore. And I realized that my naïveté was probably what gave me the determination to walk away from this toxic place, to resume a search in the face of uncertainty. So just as my college roommate spent 20+ years finding her spouse, I am spending more time and energy towards finding my workplace “match.” And ultimately, I know I am blessed to exercise choice.

Travels with Dad

I’ve had a super hectic week since taking days off from work. Surprisingly, my father took my suggestion to reconnect with some old friends. I was thrilled and happily offered to shuttle him around to see them in CA and NV.

After that beotch of a day on Tuesday, dad and I drove up to San Ramon on Wednesday. Mr. Chen was apparently the friend who matched up my mom and dad many years ago at a party in Taipei. This dude was an economics big wig who lived in a gazillion places while serving as a diplomat for the Taiwan government: Panama, Dominican Republic, Taiwan, Italy, England, you name it. What a life, learning a bunch of languages while working and traveling the world! Their two daughters are now in NorCal, so the parents retired in a beautiful community in San Ramon. I had never traveled to that part of North Bay, but shit, pretty swanky new construction haciendas adjacent to a golf course! The house was huge and def a party house with massive gathering rooms, an outdoor courtyard with fireplace, a casita, and a pool. Of course, as soon as we stepped in, the place was freezing cold. I couldn’t even take off my damn coat. As an environmentalist, I am all for energy savings, but shit: don’t be buying a big ass house if you’re not going to heat it! Same with the pool. Seriously, I drank a ton of hot tea, bc I just could not stay warm.

And so the conversations began: talking about their kids’ schooling, jobs, and credentials. I’m sure people are just sharing their lives, but hypersensitive me, I take every little thing as some comment on my failure. These other kids are doing big things with their lives: traveling the world for prestigious firms; opening private dental practices; getting PhDs in whatever fields… And what am I doing? Marketing and communications for some lame private university. I didn’t even have the heart to say I was leaving my job. I already felt loser enough. Ugh, fucking shame: No matter how much I read about building confidence or taking risks or self acceptance, things just never feel good enough. Then my father throws in that he’s moving back to Taiwan bc he “doesn’t have grandkids to care for or babysit,” blah, blah. Maybe he’s just doing the radical honesty thing, explaining why he wants to return to Asia instead of stay Stateside, but I dunno, there are just moments when I read things pretty negatively. Like he’s blaming me for not giving him enough reason to live in the US. Whatever. See? Complicated emotional guilt tripping or no? Hard to say bc to some extent, Chinese parents seem to love the blame game. On the other hand, maybe he just doesn’t want to bother or inconvenience me. Hmm, has that stopped them before? Obviously, my thoughts waver back and forth.

On Thursday, I drove dad to Visalia to visit with other old friends from Taiwan, a physician + dentist couple. Very nice and a little younger than my parents. Again, big house, freezing temps. The lady, on seeing both my dad and me keeping our coats on after stepping inside, asked what temp I set at home. Lady, you don’t even want to know. Her thermostat was set to 66 deg. Are you for fucking real? Unlike the couple the day before, this house was definitely Chinese in its decor: a lot of glass curio cabinets and tables and black lacquer. Slippers as soon as we came in, and a shit ton of takeout containers washed and stacked for re-use in the kitchen. So weird to observe these things and then realize they are part of a pattern, a cultural thing perhaps? The couple was super nice: they showed us around town. Visalia is super agrarian with a mostly Latino population. Interestingly, I learned that this couple spent ten years living apart: the wife practicing as a dentist and raising their two kids in the Bay Area, and the hubby practicing as an internist in Visalia, driving home every weekend. Who does that?? Immigrants, man. The struggle is real.

That evening, the temps dipped low, and the mountains got some snow. The next morning, the couple drove us to Sequoia National Park, but we couldn’t drive very far in, bc we didn’t have snow chains. So, I will have to go back for sure to see the world’s largest living tree. On the way back down the mountain, we hit up a Mexican place. Delish, esp with the bass rellano. Add it to the list!

On the long drive back home, dad talked regrets. Boo hoo central. Maybe he should have sent us to boarding school to better prepare us for Duke. Maybe we should have gone to a state school first, possibly done better academically, and then attended a prestigious grad school afterwards. I admit that one of my greatest disappointments in life was not doing well academically at Duke. That really shattered me, and I don’t think my confidence ever truly recovered since. That said, I hate regret, so I always try to focus on the learning moments.

When I told my dad that things turned out fine and I’m fine, he switched his comment as if to say it only applied to my brother. Th thing is though, my brother always maintained his merit scholarship at Duke. He came close to losing it due to poor grades, but he always pulled through. And for grad school, he went to one of the nation’s top film schools and then to one of the nation’s top teaching schools. So who is my father talking about with his whole public school undergrad and fancy grad school scenario? And is he talking about academic success or professional success or life success? When I press, he’s unclear. This is where I just feel like he continues to believe both his kids are failures, and that makes me feel like utter shit.

If he’s talking academic success, my brother did very well. Professionally, he is in a field that suits him and he is well respected at the university. If dad’s talking about life success, my brother sucks at that, but is he then suggesting that not adapting well at Duke led to being unprepared for life? As for me, I know dad never thought anything about my grad school selection even though I earned a selective fellowship and Florida was the best program for solid waste engineering. He also never thought much of any of my professional tracks: environmental engineering, political advocacy, nonprofit, etc. Life wise, I suppose at best he doesn’t have to worry much about me.

I dunno: the truth is, it’s all moot now. But I still get frustrated bc basically, somewhere I’m either not smart enough to excel in the arena he wants, or compared to the immigrant sacrifices of his generation, I’m not hardworking enough to achieve professional success. Sigh.

Back to the trip. On Saturday, the three of us flew out to Vegas. The plan was to do a quickie weekend meeting with more of dad’s friends (retired in Henderson) and then do some exploring. As it turned out, the flight got delayed and then the rental car took FORever. Fucking Budget. DO NOT RENT FROM THEM. We left our house around 8am and didn’t get to eating anything until 4pm. It was the longest day ever. Fortunately, dad treated us to the buffet at Caeser’s Palace, and our suite at the Signature at MGM was spacious and beautiful.

Jailbird

Also Tuesday…

I left the house late morning to take my dad to buy Powerball tickets in downtown Mountain View. Yup. He’s into it…only when the prize pot is ginormous. For lunch, we got cheesesteaks from Jersey Mike’s. Dad wasn’t impressed. It’s not as tasty as Jerry’s Subs back East, I’m told. Goddamn, he is hard to please!

In the afternoon, I had that offsite work meeting, and then at the tail end, John interrupted us, calling to say he got a message from Santa Clara Animal Control: Marty got picked up and was thrown into the slammer. WTF??

We suspect he got out in the morning when the garage cabinet installers were putting in those storage units (They look good!!). The shelter says he went to the school next door, entered one of the classrooms in session, and refused to leave. Man, I rushed over to the center thinking he would be all scared and terrified being in a new place. Nope. As I discussed with staff about his licensing and rabies exemption paperwork, Marty was snuggled into a dog bed with a blanket and big toy, snoozing away!! He could have stayed there longer for sure. When I woke him up, he was all, “Huh, oh what? Were you looking for me??” Marty and his new adventures. What ever happened to those days when he never stepped beyond the boundary of our front gate?? Gone forever. SMH.

Winding it Down

Even though my resignation was a LOOOONG time coming and I stayed on quite a bit longer than I had wanted (partly at the request of my manager), I’m sure that from the AVP’s perspective, I pulled a dick move by announcing and then giving just two weeks’ notice. The new website launches in mid-Jan, and even though I’m not a part of the web team, the project is a big deal for the department. Yeah, I know, that is still not that compelling of an argument… Except that the AVP had the bright idea to do a big marketing push for the site launch. I have a few thoughts on the matter: given that the project is already up to the wire, it makes more sense I think to do a soft launch and then insert all the fanfare after the kinks and oddities are worked out. In other words, who the fuck REALLY cares about a new uni site? Do people really want to hear about it repeatedly in some kind of blasted campaign? Doubt it. But whatever, I’m not empowered to make those calls, so the AVP gets what the AVP wants. And she wants to toot this horn. Fine. 

Bc dad is in town, I took off this week, Tue-Friday. The AVP was told this bc my resignation date factored in those days. So what happens? I work from home this morning; I meet with my temp/replacement this afternoon offsite; and then the AVP emails me asking for the social media plan for this stupid website launch. Like I said before, take, take, take. And shame on me for doing work on my “day off.” This is how loyalty (to my immediate supervisor) screws me. Whatever, I’ll be outta that shithole soon enough, thank goodness.