2010 - A Year in Review

Empirically, this has been the biggest year of my life. Strange, emotional, frustrating, exciting, scary, I wonder if I will ever have a year like this again, or if this was the high, and it's all downhill from here.

I started 2010 in Oregon, hungover at a bar, watching the Rose Bowl. 2 weeks later I was engaged. About a week after my engagement party, my boss, who I had worked well with for 2 years, decided I was making a power play and shut it down. Hard. After a long battle with her and with HR, I left my job.

This puts us at Memorial Day. June was spent doing yoga 4-5 times a week, laying low, filing for unemployment, and booking hostels online. July was spent drinking.

August 1st, I left for Europe. The results are chronicled at alexisalive.posterous.com.

October 2nd, returned from Europe. October 7th, started at a new job. November 7th, realized the new job was a bunch of bullshit, and began looking for other work. Interviewed at Box.net.

That brings us up to this month. My boss hit on me in a hotel room in Boston, I suffered from a really bad stomach flu, and here we are. 2 weeks away from Christmas.

Where the hell did this year go?

I Quit!

There is only one way to appropriately express my enthusiasm.

How All Good Things Seem To End

Whether I want them to or not.

Sometimes I just have to wonder about the stability of my interactions with others. Things never seem to get this bad with the people that don't matter to me, but I'm always having these explosive blow-outs with the people who I care about the most. And you'd think, if these people were so damn important, I would make more of an effort to salvage things, or to avoid the moment where damage becomes irrevocable and that bridge is burned.

But I don't. Or if I do, it somehow doesn't seem to matter.

Most current applicable situation - my boss. I admired her, wanted to be like her, saw her as the logical, cynical, liberal, Bay Area successful mom that I never had, considered her a friend, spent a full hour of my engagement party drinking with her, and thought we were a team. Somehow, a few mis-steps later, we're not even talking, I am leaving the company post-haste, and she spends her time looking for reasons to fire me. It's now a race against time. Will I leave, or will I be escorted out?

How did this happen? In spite of a Liberal Arts education, several classes in Psychology, living examples of what NOT to do, and a decent brain on my shoulders, I have no clue.

When Anticipation Strikes

I am actually starting to comprehend that Europe is a reality. And I would like to board the plane right now.

Usually I have a hard time thinking about the trip without worrying that (a.) E-Bear is still without official guardian for Month 2, (b.) I will have a nervous breakdown and recreate the events from my last "visit" to Europe and (c.) being on my own won't be all it's cracked up to be or (d.) being alone WILL be all it's cracked up to be.

Today though, I am just fucking excited.

It's Right On Time

And it's time for something completely different.

After days of musing about how lonely and sad it is to be me, I'm feeling lucky I am that I don't control the Universe. I don't know who does, but it's hard not to think sometimes that there must be some plan, because things seem to happen right on time.

I think about the seemingly small incident that started it all. The fight. Yes, I got in a screaming match with DBo's crazy, hick-ville, religious fanatic aunt. And missed dinner. And ended up Hola's Mexican Cantina for their last-call half-off fried cheese plate. And got deathly ill. And called in sick. And my boss doubted said sickness. And I, of course, responded with self-righteous indigence, and a sappy letter about trust. Which apparently is frowned upon in the corporate world.

One trip to HR later, and here we are. Fat Al's European Extravaganza couldn't have come at a better time.

No I didn't get fired, but I decided that I was not being treated like a "valuable member of the team" and I could do better. So, now I've got 3 months to find a new gig, or I am prepared to come back jobless, and do some restaurant/bar work till the right gig pays off.

The practical, "success-oriented" side of me is not happy about this. However, the "me" that is frequently over-shadowed by my overly practical in-laws and my own desire for money and social status is starting to be stoked. I'm working my networks, and in the last two weeks I've talked to an author I admire, a VP at a big digital company, and the Director of PR at a major social media company. I've had to network, I've had to be resourceful, I've been pressure-prompted, and frankly, I've been thrown into the sort of situation where anything is possible.

And it's coming right on time.

Scary Admission

It's an odd day when I see my high school friends on Facebook and wonder if I am missing out.

I just saw the page of my high school idol (one of the many.) My mom would never let me hang out with her because she was "trouble" but I absolutely adored her. She was wild, romantic, spontaneous, beautiful, skinny, had two sets of parents. She had a beautiful older sister, and could speak in a somewhat educated manner about things like smoking and sex.

I'm not sure what she did those first years outside of high school but now she lives in Folsom, has all the same friends from town, and is part of the 2-3 kids club. Like a lot of the other girls I knew growing up, her pictures and status updates are filled with afternoon naps, swimming, yoga pants, 10am walks, outings with other mommies, trips to Costco, dates with much loved husbands, etc. If photos tell the story, she spends her days in jeans and cute sundresses, her friends are life-long, and she really seems to enjoy family, her mother, and the few drunk party nights she has.

Sometimes I think it would be much simpler to live that way, as opposed to being me. My constant need for newness, complexity, competition, and status make it difficult to be happy with family-land. But it's a rare day that I don't feel restless. She seems so calm and complete. It makes me wonder if there is really something to the whole 'husband and babies' thing.

Of course the flip side is that once you go down that road, there is no going back. And maybe she just looks like she's having a blast because those are the pictures on Facebook. No one ever advertises the boredom, apathy, and stagnancy of it all. I just wish I knew - does she ever look at my profile and wish she could be back on her own?

Why is Moving On So Hard?

A cliche image for a cliche lament. How does one deal with moving on, heading down that lonely open road?

I happened to read this blog post yesterday, and it eloquently expressed how I am feeling about life (today) perfectly. Like this author, I love change, I constantly talk about change, I go bat-shit insane when life is too boring, but I hate when I am forced to change before I am ready. Particularly when it comes to relationships.

Right now, I am pretty mad about some injustice done to me, so it's easier to think about leaving places and people behind, but I hate to think that my departure will be just as timely and meaningless to them as I pretend it is to me. That they'll all be better off when I leave for my new gig.

The shitty thing about moving on is this - you have to accept that the other person (or group of people) will ultimately move on too.

Business - A Practical Study of Psychology, Gender Roles, Risk, and Pathology

I wish when I was young someone had told me something about Business. To me, an artsy wanna-be intellectual type, Business was this unexplainable concept floating out in space that my mother encouraged me to succeed in - without giving me any indication of what Business actually was. To me, Business was boring, it was bleak, it was expected.

I assumed for years that all Business People did the same things - wore suits, sat in a desk, did something with numbers, and used annoying Business terms like "paradigm shift," "interfacing" and "synergy."

Little did I know that Business was actually a practical application of design, debate, writing, the art of schmooze, and a study of interpersonal relationships. As such, I am not surprised that I absolutely love it.

I imagine that for some people, a lot of this stuff doesn't come very naturally (especially the politics and persuasion aspects) and I wonder why we're not taught real business skills in school. If school is supposed to prepare you for the real world - and the world of work - then there are some subjects that need to be added to your required list. Here are just a few of my suggestions:

- - Using Microsoft Outlook (and not cc:ing your entire company on personal emails)
- - Providing constructive criticism (and taking it!)
- - Conflict management
- - Getting your way without looking like a bitch
- - Feigning compliance with obnoxious policies
- - Holding your alcohol in a business setting
- - "Office Flirting" while avoiding sexual harassment suits

Are there any others?

Sometimes I Feel Like This

The Unintentionally Creepy Dude

I spend a lot of time thinking about the unavoidable judgments that come along with boobs, blond hair, and an ass. I worry that if I don't constantly demonstrate intelligence or seem too casual I will garner zero respect. More often than I would like I worry about being disregarded or overlooked because of surface appearances.

I don't think this is simply paranoia. I've been engaged in a battle to overcome the dumb blond stereotype my entire life, and have realized that for men of a certain age, sexism is so irrevocably ingrained into their psyches that there is nothing I could do to overcome it. (Luckily most of those dudes have only about 20-30 years left.)

However, I was walking by a guy at our office today, and I realized there is a far worse stereotype than the dumb blond. The old creepy dude.


It's the dude with the nose hair and the unpredictable sweat glands. The dude with an awkward laugh who hasn't yet mastered eye contact. Maybe he's got too many pictures of his young nieces hanging up in his office. Somewhere between 30-60, he's single, and is just too weird to be passed off as your laughable "dirty old man" or lovable "office nerd."

And whenever you see that guy at the office, you can't help but cringe.

I would hate to live in fear that every comment or off-color joke I made would lead people to assume I was a pedophile, or that I had a sex dungeon in the basement.

I suppose there could be some logical discussion of what's worse - with the right connections and proper grooming the creepy dude can still have the corner office, but the dumb blond can get laid - but it doesn't matter. I would rather be anyone than the unintentionally creepy dude at my office.

I am the Oyster

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."

"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
"Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!"
"No hurry!" said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.

"A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,
"Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed--
Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed."

"But not on us!" the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
"After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!"
"The night is fine," the Walrus said.
"Do you admire the view?

"It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf--
I've had to ask you twice!"

"It seems a shame," the Walrus said,
"To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"The butter's spread too thick!"

"I weep for you," the Walrus said:
"I deeply sympathize."
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

"O Oysters," said the Carpenter,
"You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none--
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one.

My Movie

Isn't always turning out the way I thought it would.

At the beginning, I had very specific ideas about the art direction, about the character of the protagonist. The love interest would be eloquent, deep, and socially aware. There would be tragedy and loss and love, and somehow, it would make the conclusion seem all the more significant.

It was never intended for commercial production - for laugh tracks, and shallow lessons wrapped in smiles and civility. I intended that only a select audience would grasp its message.

The picture seems I see in front of me is much more contrived and safe than I ever thought it would be. The principal actors are so secure and safe. The drama and intensity is muted with polite discourse and good intentions. It's almost hygienic in its nature.

The colors are more muted than I expected too; there is a lot less glitter and gold, and instead the characters wear fuzzy sweaters and old jeans with holes in the knees. Costume design was less based on aesthetic, and more based on comfort.

Don't get me wrong, what I've produced is good, but all in all, something seems lost in translation.

I think it will do well in the theaters - it certainly won't win any awards - but people will walk away entertained, most likely it will be classified as a "feel good" movie. A good representation of the stable progression through life, something you don't really see now-a-days, with all that's wrong in the world. I think the general population will like it.

It's my own fault, really. Somewhere along the way, I guess I sold out. Maybe it was the promise of money, maybe it was the promise of stability.

I guess I worried it would never work if I did it my way. That my vision was unrealistic.

I think about scrapping the whole thing and going back to the start, but then I always stop. Why bother? After all, I already have a good movie on my hands.

A Boring Word Like Sad

Sad is a boring word. It doesn't do justice to the millions of complex feelings that underlie it. Like loss. Or acceptance. Or futility. But sometimes it's all just too much, and there is just no other way to describe how you feel - other than with a boring word like sad.

Bad-ass of the Week

And There Is Hope!

I was sent this today by my HR department. I am not sure how frequently I was "licked and groomed" as a child, so I am not sure whether this news bodes well for me or not. But - it is nice to know there is a possibility of avoiding the lunacy of old age:

"Some interesting research has been launched by looking more carefully at data on older people. We've all heard about how just about everything declines with age: muscle strength, memory, reflexes, balance, etc, etc. It used to be that gerontology statisticians were simply a little annoyed that the variation in these characteristics increases, that is, there is more spread in functioning as the average functioning declines. It made their graphs less attractive. Then some people said: "Hey, wait a minute. That means some of us aren't getting worse as we get older. How come?" That led to research with rats which showed that some "age successfully," and one correlating factor that has been well documented is their treatment at infancy. The ones that were handled a lot by humans, or groomed and licked a lot by their mothers, aged more successfully than average. Just when nice treatment no longer counts isn't known, but this observation does provide some hope that we can learn how to minimize old age decline. It is speculated that managing stress better may be one equivalent to being licked a lot by a mother rat."

We can hope.

A Follow Up to Wednesday's Political Rant

I wanted to share this - a friend of mine posted it on Facebook. It encapsulates everything that is crazy about the Tea Partying, Fear Mongering, Health-care hating Right.

"This morning I was awoken by my alarm clock powered by the public power monopoly regulated by the US Department of Energy. I then took a shower in the clean water provided by the municipal water utility. After that, I turned on the TV to one of the FCC regulated channels to see what the National Weather Service of the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration determined the weather was going to be like using satellites designed, built, and launched by the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. I watched this while eating my breakfast of US Department of Agriculture inspected food and taking the drugs which have been determined safe by the food and drug administration.

At the appropriate time as regulated by the US Congress and kept accurate by the National Institute of Standards and Technology and the US Naval Observatory, I get into my National Highway Traffic Safety Administration approved automobile and set out to work on the roads built by the local, state, and federal departments of transportation, possibly stopping to purchase additional fuel of a quality level determined by the Environmental Protection Agency, using legal tender issued by the Federal Reserve Bank. On the way out the door, I deposit any mail I have to be sent out via the US Postal Service and drop the kids off at the local public school. After work, I drive my NHTSA approved car back home on the DOT roads, to the house which has not burned down in my absence because of the state and local building codes and fire marshal's inspection, and which has not been plundered of all its valuables thanks to the local police department.

I then log on to the internet which was developed by the Defense Advanced Research Projects Administration and post on Fox News Forums about how socialism in medicine is BAD because the government can't do anything right. Just say 'NO'!"

Where All Misogynists Eventually End Up

A tribute to my (ex) co-worker. Who spent his days alternately hitting on me, snarking on my failures, and treating me like a secretary in front of clients. He began as a lawyer, found his way to Marketing at a small-time assessment publishing company, and then was fired for using company money to pay his car insurance. Last I saw, he had joined a "Find Your Strengths with Astrology" group on Facebook.

May he find happiness with all the cake in the world.

Why I am Sick of Television

For me, the last recent opportunity for political outrage was the Obama/McCain election. I became addicted to Keith Olbermann - whose indignant rants were always mollifying - I fought with friends and acquaintances on Facebook, and I truly believed that if McCain and Palin won the election, America as I knew it would be destroyed.

All that emotion -patriotism, fear, and outrage were absolutely exhausting, and I temporarily swore off politics in November of 2008.

Then came the health care debate.

This time around, I have refused to get up-in-arms about any of the issues - I definitely wanted health care reform, but was not concerned that the world would end if it failed. I am excited to see it passed, and to see Obama sign it into law, but my excitement has been somewhat dampened by the hyperbole and hysteria of the other side.


The public is always susceptible to media messaging, and it's been disheartening to hear people with a LOT of influence (Limbaugh and Beck are the two that stand out in this case) using their influence to incite. I know that this happens on both sides, but the level of extreme and hateful things being said by the Right seems unprecedented to me. Encouraging people to do anything in their power to destroy and "crush" the Left. Saying irrational things like "Progressiveness is a Cancer that must be destroyed" - or - "these socialists must be wiped out" - or - "This is the end of prosperity in America forever." Comparing Obama to Hitler (when it seems to me that calling a group of people "a cancer" is closer to Hitler-talk than anything Obama has ever said.)

It's talk that gets people off the actual issues, encourages radicalism and violence, and whips America into a frenzy. Using words like "socialism" "communism" and "fascism" in this debate to describe what really comes down to extra regulations on insurance companies, is such a divisive and at best, unhelpful way for people who supposedly "love America" to behave. It gets us away from working toward common goals (even if our methods of achieving those goals differ) and puts us in this "us or them" mindset where nothing can ever be accomplished.

And they say I'm dangerous for the future of the country.

The Summer Time Freak Show

And no, I am not referring to the circus.

I am referring to the phenomenon that is - European grandmas at the pool.

I went lap swimming today for the first time this year, which means I also visited the pool's locker room for the first time this year.

I suppose I should lead with the admission that inherently, I am not a huge fan of public nudity. I am also not a fan of the elderly. In this, the pool locker room serves as some awful form of immersion therapy, because if you have ever participated in the 11am lap swim, you would know that it is predominantly filled with people like this:

And this.

And while I am certainly not one to begrudge the elderly their low-impact workout, I don't understand the incessant need of these people to be graphically naked before and after their swim. Amidst bushes that have NEVER seen a clipper, nipples touching belly buttons, asses the size of cars, and thighs that look like tapioca pudding, I was the only person who seemed to have any sense of modesty. I mean, I get there is a momentary need for nudity between the swimsuit and undergarments, but these women have no shame.

Today, I was brutally eye raped. Not only was I faced with the gruesome sight of an overweight octogenarian using a washcloth like toilet paper while her friend used a bathtub scrubber to clean her toes, but an older German woman with mile-long boobs asked to borrow shampoo.

In times like this, all I can say is - Thank God my grandma doesn't swim.

Why?

At this exact moment, Grandma P is upstairs watching Wendy Williams. I have also caught her watching Telemundo, Glenn Beck, mid-day infomercials, and some very wacky televangelism programs, all at a volume that is probably destroying whatever hearing she has left.