Amidst a funeral and two coast to coast red-eyes, I attended Y Combinator‘s startup school last weekend. Stanford’s
Kresge Auditorium was packed to the brim. Every seat was filled and
the back was full of people sitting on the floor with laptops. I was
originally supposed to attend the previous evening’s event as well
but we had to fly to New York on the red eye on Thursday and flew
back Friday evening and didn’t make it into San Francisco until 9pm,
so when I showed up at Kresge, I didn’t know a soul.
Having worked as a programmer on Wall Street, I imagined the male/
female ratio would be skewed. I attended Carnegie Mellon. I worked at
an Investment Bank and I am a programmer. Being a minority as a woman
isn’t new to me. I had, however, assumed the percentage of women in
the room would be something around 10-12%. I was way off.
It was relatively hard to count because the room was so packed and
because some male hackers have long hair, making them
indistinguishable from women when you can only see them from the
back. My best count was eight. Excluding the speakers and organizers,
I counted eight women in a room of over 400 men. That’s around
2%. I’ve never been a huge women’s rights activist or even a feminist
to be honest, but this depressed me. For the last few weeks, I’ve
been asking many of my entrepreneurial friends if they knew of
technical companies started by women (where the women were the
technical individuals as well as the founder and when I mean
technical, I mean more than HTML or CSS). Some were able to name
maybe one or two and many couldn’t even think of a single one.
There are many cases where established companies are led by women.
When I was at Goldman Sachs, our CIO was a woman. I know some
fantastic women coders. There are also cases of companies started by
women. Women who are in advertising, marketing, design, fashion and
tons of other non-technical fields. But there seem to be very few
cases of technical women entrepreneurs.
Women and men are different. They live differently. They work
differently. They manage differently. They lead companies
differently. This is not to imply that all men are the same but just
to point out that there are fundamental differences in the genders
that makes their styles of starting and running companies varied. One
of the greatest things about America is that we have a lot of choices
here. Anyone can start their own company. Anyone can do anything they
truly want. This means that if I want to be an employee, I have a
large number of companies to choose from. I think having more
technical female entrepreneurs would give me, and others like me,
more options. I feel that not having those options is depressing and
unfortunate.
I don’t know what stops technical women from wanting to start their
own thing. Maybe it’s the kids (I have a lot to say on this and I’ll
save it for my next post) or the fear of instability. Or maybe it’s
the lack of balls. When Chris Sacca from Google gave his speech, he said
he’d take two questions but one had to be from a woman. The woman he
picked asked for suggestions on helping women make more effective/
forceful pitches. Hearing the question made me even more upset. There
is no inherent reason for a woman to be more unsure of herself than a
man. When I believe an idea, I am so forceful and passionate that
it’s scary. That’s how I talked my way into my graduate degree and
that’s how I was able to accomplish most of the biggest achievements
in my life. I just felt like if this is the best question this girl
can come up with, it says a lot about why women don’t do startups.
As promised, I will start to write about some of the points “How to
be an Adult” brings up that interested me. Here’s the first one I
want to write about:
Relationships between adults work best when each partner knows
his or her specific ways of feeling loved and tells the other about
it.
This has been one of my pet peeves for a long time. I believe that
different people have different ways of feeling loved. Some people
like jewelry or flowers, others want hugs, and others just want to be
listened to. I don’t think there’s a right way to love someone.
Similarly, there are no wrong ways to feel loved (we’re ignoring
extreme cases of abuse etc here). For a multitude of reasons, we all
develop our own definitions of love and our own ways of looking at a
relationship and feeling loved.
I think our first instinct is to love someone the way we like to be
loved. If we like attention, then we give the other person attention.
If we like flowers, then we buy presents, etc. I don’t think there’s
any harm in this, initially when we don’t know someone very well,
it’s the best option we have. But once we’ve gotten to know our
partner somewhat. loving them the way they like to be loved gives us
two major advantages. One, it shows the other person that we’re
paying attention to their wants and needs. Two, it makes it easier
since it focuses our efforts to please that person and makes them
more effective each time.
Of course, I think there’s value in recognizing when your partner is
trying to show you how much they love you, in their own way as well.
If your partner is the kind of person who never buys flowers and he
comes home with flowers one day, this shows a significant effort and
should, of course, make you happy (unless the flowers are due to some
guilt.) But knowing the ways the other person feels loved saves so
much time and effort in a relationship. It may be hard in the
beginning to make enough attention to find the ways, but you can also
ask. I think, in an honest relationship, there’s no reason to play
guessing games. If I care about you, and about making our
relationship last, I have no trouble telling you what actions or
things make me feel loved. This way you’re not wasting your time
trying things that work on you, on me. I am happy and loved and so
are you. Why would people prefer to play guessing games instead?
There’s no award for getting there on your own. The award is for
knowing and for doing the actions that make the other person feel
loved. Sure it’s nice to know that you paid attention but it’s much
nicer to know that you’re going out of your way and your personal
understanding of how to show love, just for me. Just to make sure I
am feeling loved by you. That’s all that matters. Imagine how much
smoother a relationship would be if both parties were honest about
what would make them feel loved and if both partners actually did
these? There would be no need for guessing, assuming and worrying.
I think part of being an adult is knowing yourself and not being
afraid to share that with the people you love. Knowing what you need
and asking for it. Knowing that those who really care for you will do
their best to show it, in a way you understand.
The complex where I live has a calendar of events that they publish
each month. It notes community-wide events like easter egg hunt and
gym classes as well as national or religious holidays. In April’s
calendar, they had “National Honesty Day” under April 30th. I have
never heard of this holiday but I am glad it’s on the calendar and I
wish it would encourage people, even if just for one day.
I am not naive enough to think that people don’t lie. Everybody lies
and they all have their reasons. When I was little, my mom would lie
to her clients and tell them that their merchandise was ready but she
couldn’t deliver it cause I was so sick, she had to stay home and
take care of me. All the while, I would sit next to her, perfectly
healthy. I asked her why she lied and she said that these were
“little lies” and they didn’t matter. Sure they matter. But today’s
post is not about lying. It’s about not telling the truth.
Most of us live our lives sheepishly, not passionate enough to stand
for something. My first night of Teach For America training, they
showed us a video of the previous year’s class and the
accomplishments they achieved and all the goals the organization had
for the country. I felt so proud to be a part of something so
phenomenal that I went back to my room and I called Jake. “I don’t
know why everyone wouldn’t want to be a part of this,” I said. “It’s
amazing.” I truly believed it. I still do. I have the utmost respect
for organizations like TFA who stand for something and fight like
crazy to get it. Most of us, give up way too easily. Most of us learn
to be complacent early on in life and stick to saving our opinions to
ourselves in most situations. Not lying, per se, but omitting the truth.
Not being honest with your boss’ bad taste or incorrect preferences
is one thing. The boss might fire you for disagreeing. While I still
think it sucks to work for someone like that, I can understand one’s
choice to be complacent in that situation. But not when it comes to
friendship. And not with a significant other. These people are in
your life by choice. You picked them. Why not pick people who respect
you for your thoughts and be honest with them? A friend of mine
thinks truth is overrated, that it isn’t necessary to be honest at
all times and that sparing someone’s feelings is more valuable. I
respectfully disagree.
I choose the people in my life because I trust them to be good
thinkers. I trust that when they tell me their opinion on things,
these opinions are not judgments. They aren’t superficial, they
aren’t spiteful. They are well-thought-out opinions of people whom I
trust and respect. I want them to tell me what they think and trust
that I can handle the truth. I am independent enough to weigh their
opinions without letting them cloud mine. I want them to trust that
when I said I want to know what they think, I meant it. Their honest
thoughts help me grow and expand my own thoughts. They help me see
things from different perspectives.
Of course there are nice and not-so-nice ways to say things. There’s
bashing and there’s constructive feedback. I always expect the people
I care about to take the time to put their words in a non-hurtful
form. Adjectives without explanations are useless. If my friends are
some of the most intelligent and most caring people I know, why
wouldn’t I want to know their true thoughts?
That’s one of the reasons I loved college. In college, people tend to
be passionate. They tell you what they think. For hours. Tedious as
it might become, the conversation is deep, meaningful, and often
honest. Then we grow up, life gets in the way, we never take the time
to be honest. We never really listen and really answer. We make
decisions on behalf of the other person. (Oh she wouldn’t want to
hear this. Poor so-and-so, how could I tell her what I really think)
We talk about the people we love to other people but never to their
face. We wouldn’t want to hurt them. Well, you may not be hurting
them, but you’re also not helping them. You’re depriving them of the
true friend or partner they thought they had.
And what if you do tell the truth (nicely, gently, constructively)
and they get hurt irrevocably? Well, in my opinion, those friends
were lost long ago. A relationship based on eggshells and half-truths
is not a relationship worth the energy or the time. Especially with a
significant other. This person may be there for the rest of your
life, do you really want to live with someone to whom you cannot tell
your true thoughts/feelings, for the rest of your life?
I don’t know where between college and life people give up on honesty
but I wish it hadn’t become the accepted social norm. I really think
we could all benefit from more of it. Even if only on April 30th.
I’ve been in a slight technical slump lately. There were many things
I hated about my investment bank job in New York: middle-management
was full of incompetent managers who found a way to make your life
miserable. There were many 120-hour weeks. I ate dinner at work at
least three out of five nights. Often more. The users weren’t all the
sweetest people you’ve ever met and technology is a male field and
combining that with the male-world of finance made the place a real
joy. (There’s a specific incident with one of my managers and a photo
of a woman and a horse that is somehow etched into my brain
permanently.)
Of course not everything was terrible. The pay was relatively good
but more importantly, the people I worked with were very competent.
Some of them were downright brilliant. I gained more practical
knowledge in one year of working with some of these people then I did
in my four years at Carnegie Mellon. Some of my coworkers inspired me
and made me a better coder. And I miss that. I miss it a lot.
In my current job I have more responsibility in some ways and I do a
wider variety of technology. I never had to administer servers on
Wall Street, they had other people to do that. And to boot machines,
and to configure files and compile unix programs (even though I did
download, compile, and install the latest version of emacs on every
machine I’ve ever used; this girl cannot live without emacs.) While I
enjoy learning about the intricacies of freeBSD and ini files as much
as the next gal, my main love is programming. And PHP just doesn’t
cut it for me. It was fun for the first few weeks while it was still
relatively novel. I liked the cleanness of Smarty and how it let me
separate stuff so I didn’t have to fill my PHP code with html crap
etc. However, two years into it, my fascination with PHP is long gone
and I need something else. I’ve coded a bunch of Python a while back
for fun and I am hoping to get back into it if only to preserve my
sanity.
Actually, my point was that I haven’t been feeling very technically
challenged lately so Jake’s been encouraging me to create a project
for myself that would be fun. After months of his badgering me, I
finally broke down and came up with an idea I liked. I’ve spent the
last week coding night and day and even though it didn’t make me a
fantastic coder, I’ve learned some new stuff I didn’t know and I have
a new website/domain now. I am hoping to roll it out for pre-alpha
testing in a week or so. If you’re interested in photography,
writing, knitting or scrapbooking (any of them) and would like to be
one of my guinea pigs, drop me a line: karen at karenika dot com.
Only if you’re going to play along tho and feel free to pass it on.
That’s why I haven’t been writing the past week. All my free time has
been 100% consumed by this. To be honest, it felt great to be
consumed by anything (other than David who’s my favorite thing to be
consumed by of course) and even if the site is a bust, I loved
working on it. College was probably the last time I felt like staying
up and working on one of my own projects as much as I did this past
week.
Jake was right after all. What a shocker.
I am not a particularly big sports fan. Actually, I can go so far as
to say I am not a sports fan in any way. I get incredibly frustrated
watching football because I have a really hard time following the
actual ball since it’s so small compared to the players and the
field. Last time I watched basketball I must have been fourteen. I
have never ever watched hockey as far as I can remember. Golf is
boring to me in concept let alone on TV. The only game I might be
into is baseball and only in very rare cases. So it might make little
sense that Jake emailed me this article by an ESPN writer.
Until you realize that he’s “talking” with Malcolm Gladwell. Probably
my favorite non-fiction writer of all time. I find Gladwell’s writing
to be consistently thought-provoking. His topics are always
interesting to me. His writing is plain, unpretentious and flows
beautifully. An amazingly rare accomplishment for a non-fiction
writer in my albeit narrow experience. Despite the fact that most of
the sports talk completely went over my head, I found some real gems
in this article. Here are a few I wanted to share.
As for your (very kind) question about my
writing, I’m not sure I can answer that either, except to say that I
really love writing, in a totally uncomplicated way. When I was in
high school, I ran track and in the beginning I thought of training
as a kind of necessary evil on the way to racing. But then, the more
I ran, the more I realized that what I loved was running, and it
didn’t much matter to me whether it came in the training form or the
racing form. I feel the same way about writing. I’m happy writing
anywhere and under any circumstances and in fact I’m now to the point
where I’m suspicious of people who don’t love what they do in the
same way. I was watching golf, before Christmas, and the announcer
said of Phil Mickelson that the tournament was the first time he’d
picked up a golf club in five weeks. Assuming that’s true, isn’t that
profoundly weird? How can you be one of the top two or three golfers
of your generation and go five weeks without doing the thing you
love? Did Mickelson also not have sex with his wife for five weeks?
Did he give up chocolate for five weeks? Is this some weird golfer’s
version of Lent that I’m unaware of? They say that Wayne Gretzky, as
a 2-year-old, would cry when the Saturday night hockey game on TV was
over, because it seemed to him at that age unbearably sad that
something he loved so much had to come to end, and I’ve always
thought that was the simplest explanation for why Gretzky was
Gretzky. And surely it’s the explanation as well for why Mickelson
will never be Tiger Woods.
and a few lines down, Simmons replies with:
On Mickelson and Sports Lent, I remember
watching one of those 20/20-Dateline-type pieces about him once, and
he was adamant about remaining a family man, taking breaks from golf
and never letting the sport consume him … and I remember thinking
to myself, “Right now Tiger is watching this and thinking, ‘I got
him. Cross Phil off the list. This guy will never pass me.'” The
great ones aren’t just great, they enjoy what they’re doing —
I find this to be completely true. If you love what you do and do it
constantly, you are bound to master it eventually. And if you truly
love it, can you stop doing it, even for a moment? Many writers carry
little notebooks with them and take notes constantly. Photographers
never leave the house without at least one camera. Musicians practice
night and day. People are often surprised at the overnight success of
a now famous person, but in most cases there is a multi-year effort
behind the success. I can completely understand taking a break
from something to recharge and relax. However, if you want to be
really really fantastic at something, I think the trick is to love it
obsessively. Then, it consumes you.
That’s sort of why I constantly
have the breadth vs depth argument with myself. If you want to do
everything and are unwilling to choose one over the others, it’s
impossible for all your interests to consume you. You have a limited
amount of time and energy and you have to make choices. Thus, it
shall be that I am never going to get the opportunity to master
anything until I give up on some things.
This is actually a question I’m obsessed with:
Why don’t people work hard when it’s in their best interest to do so?
Why does Eddy Curry come to camp every year overweight?
The (short) answer is that it’s really risky to work hard, because
then if you fail you can no longer say that you failed because you
didn’t work hard. It’s a form of self-protection. I swear that’s why
Mickelson has that almost absurdly calm demeanor. If he loses, he can
always say: Well, I could have practiced more, and maybe next year I
will and I’ll win then. When Tiger loses, what does he tell himself?
He worked as hard as he possibly could. He prepared like no one else
in the game and he still lost. That has to be devastating, and
dealing with that kind of conclusion takes a very special and rare
kind of resilience. Most of the psychological research on this is
focused on why some kids don’t study for tests — which is a much
more serious version of the same problem. If you get drunk the night
before an exam instead of studying and you fail, then the problem is
that you got drunk. If you do study and you fail, the problem is that
you’re stupid — and stupid, for a student, is a death sentence. The
point is that it is far more psychologically dangerous and difficult
to prepare for a task than not to prepare. People think that Tiger is
tougher than Mickelson because he works harder. Wrong: Tiger is
tougher than Mickelson and because of that he works harder.
This is something I’ve often discussed with Jake since he hates
taking exams so much and makes sure not to study for them. I am never
sure if he’s genuinely having problems studying of he’s just not
trying hard enough because he’s scared that if he gives it all he has
and still fails, he’ll have to admit he couldn’t achieve despite
trying as hard as possible.
I work very hard not to regret my past. I tend to get hung up on the
past as is so I try regularly to make sure my decisions are as sound
as they can be at the time I make them. I also give the things I do
all I have. I want to be able to look back and say that there was
nothing more I could have done. I used every single ounce of ability,
power, and strength in my body and soul to make something happen. If,
then, it still doesn’t happen, it’s time to move on and realize it
wasn’t meant to be.
That’s not to say that I have followed my own
advice all the time. A few years ago, I applied to Stanford Business
School. My intention was to do a joint Education and Business degree
and to get accepted, you had to apply to the business school first. I
have always hated business school but I know Stanford is the bast and
I loved the idea of this particular program. I applied to it at the
same time I applied to Teach For America. I knew that if I got into
both I would choose TFA. Most people might think that’s stupid but
TFA was what I wanted to do at the time. I figured if I couldn’t get
in and could get in to Stanford, I’d study Education Policy and hope
to start some kind of education non-profit after I graduated. I knew
TFA would get me first-hand experience and that’s more useful than
any education in most cases. (and in the end it turned out to be invaluable).
I had taken my GMATs four and a half years before I applied and since
they are good for five years, I just used those scores. I asked for
recommendations from my boss and a co-worker. I really did work hard
on the essays. Overall, it’s not fair to say that I didn’t try but I
am sure I could have tried harder to perfect my application. I am not
sure if it was on purpose or sheer neglect. I knew the acceptance
rate was very low and chances were that I wouldn’t get in. And when I
didn’t get in, I kept telling myself I didn’t want to get in anyway.
I hadn’t even bothered to retake my GMATs. It was obvious that
Stanford wasn’t my first choice. Which is all bullshit. I didn’t get
in and that’s that. If I didn’t try to make my application as strong
as it could have been, that’s sheer stupidity on my part. Why waste
time writing essays, bothering to fill out an application, and taking
other people’s time to write recommendations if I wasn’t dying to get
in? I was completely retarded to not give it my best effort. And if
this was my best effort, I should admit that I wasn’t good enough to
get in. To not try my hardest just to have some excuse to use when I
don’t succeed is really setting myself up for failure. Life’s too
short to live like that.
There’s a famous experiment done by a wonderful
psychologist at Columbia University named Dan Goldstein. He goes to a
class of American college students and asks them which city they
think is bigger — San Antonio or San Diego. The students are
divided. Then he goes to an equivalent class of German college
students and asks the same question. This time the class votes
overwhelmingly for San Diego. The right answer? San Diego. So the
Germans are smarter, at least on this question, than the American
kids. But that’s not because they know more about American geography.
It’s because they know less. They’ve never heard of San Antonio. But
they’ve heard of San Diego and using only that rule of thumb, they
figure San Diego must be bigger. The American students know way more.
They know all about San Antonio. They know it’s in Texas and that
Texas is booming. They know it has a pro basketball team, so it must
be a pretty big market. Some of them may have been in San Antonio and
taken forever to drive from one side of town to another — and that,
and a thousand other stray facts about Texas and San Antonio, have
the effect of muddling their judgment and preventing them from
getting the right answer.
This comment reminded me of The Wisdom of Crowds. Sometimes it’s hard be
objective when you know the subject too well. It’s hard to not make
assumptions and to not overcomplicate the situation. I guess the
trick is to know when you’re in that kind of situation and to seek
the help of people who are less involved for those particular situation.
All interesting points, all gathered from a sports article that I
wouldn’t have even seen had Jake not sent it to me. Shows you that an
interesting person like Gladwell is worth reading regardless of the
context.
My first job out of college was at a major investment bank in New
York City. I worked at this place for several years. I spent three
months in London and six months in Tokyo. I had over six different
managers in that time. When I decided to move departments a few years
into my job, I had decided that choosing the right manager was
important to my happiness at work. What I realized a few months later
was that my manager wasn’t just important, he was crucial to
the success of my career.
The manager I worked for in London was wonderful. He liked me and
thought highly of me and encouraged me constantly. He had me work
with intelligent people and I learned a lot working for him. He’s the
sole reason I was willing to live apart from Jake for six months to
take a position in Tokyo. The manager I worked with before him in New
York was totally the opposite and always yelled at me, never made
positive remarks about my work and constantly complained. The
situation got so bad that I was dreading going to work each and every
day. I figured the manager in London (and then Tokyo) was as good as
it got.
Until I moved to another department at the bank. When I moved back
from Tokyo, I was ready to be done with the company but at my
manager’s request, decided to look around internally before I quit. I
met with several departments, all of whom were only willing to hire
me for menial jobs since I had decided to work three days a week. One
department, however, seemed to have an interesting project and they
really wanted me on board. The head of the department, let’s call him
Carl, met with me and asked me when I’d be willing to start. The
original offer was to support and fix a specific piece of software
that was honestly built wrong and broken all over the place. After a
few weeks and many meetings, I was suddenly put in charge of
rewriting the software altogether. I spent the following two years or
so, managing a team of six in London, Tokyo and New York and working
only three days a week. What’s amazing about this isn’t that I was a
phenomenal worker. I hadn’t really changed all that much from the
previous year and my skills hadn’t improved that drastically.
But my manager had. Carl believed in me and he told me so daily. Even
though he was a Managing Director, he met with me several times a
week and congratulated me regularly. He brought me along to meetings
with partners and other important people. He asked my opinion in
public and in private. He made sure I got all the credit for all my
work. He gave me all the resources I asked for and was there to
answer all my questions. He truly supported me in every way. More
significantly, he believed in me. Everyone thought working three days
a week would be a career suicide but he put me in charge of a project
and he promoted me to Vice President.
Carl made me believe in myself. He made me feel like I was capable of
doing all that he was asking me to do. And, amazingly, I became
capable. I rose to his expectations. I became the person he saw me as.
A few years ago a friend told me to be careful about statements I
made out loud. She said that if I constantly complain about being
fat, people start thinking I am fat even if they didn’t previously
think so. I believe in the power of saying something to make it
happen. Carl believed in me, he supported it and I rose to his
expectations. If I say something out loud often enough, other people
believe it and start treating me as such and then I become that
thing. Obviously, this happens all the time in abuse cases. Someone
tells you you’re trash often enough, you start believing it. Soon you
forget what your personal thoughts were and you just see yourself
through other people’s eyes. That can cause a lot of damage depending
on the people around you.
It can also help you become a better person. It can help you have
faith in yourself. It can help you become the person you have the
potential to be. The person you already are.
It’s all about whose eyes you get see yourself through.
A friend of mine asked me about my favorite movie the other day.
Anyone who’s a movie-snob would cringe at some of my favorites and
probably think I am an uncultured, cheesy-movie-liking idiot. But I
don’t care much for movie-snobs (or any other snobs for that matter)
so I don’t really care what they think. Anyhow, my favorite movie of
all time is still the same as it was when I applied to college 14
years ago.
My favorite movie of all time is still Dead Poets Society. While I
was very lucky to not have parents like the ones in the movie and
wouldn’t nearly qualify my life as oppressed and predetermined as
those students, the message of sucking the marrow of life resonated
strongly with me then and still does today. There are so many things
I like to do and so many things I yearn to learn. So many things I
wish I could do like design and play an instrument and draw well and
write well and be more creative and artistic. I feel like the amount
of things I want to do/learn/be would easily cover several lifetimes.
I don’t know how to figure out which path to take. There are many
aspects of my life that I love and wouldn’t give up. I love being
married. I love that I’ve shared so much of my life with Jake and
that we have all these memories that we can unleash like a treasure
chest. I love reminiscing with him. I love being a mom. I love the
joy and wonder David has brought into my life. The little moments
where he does something completely unexpected, the minutes after he
wakes up from a nap all flushed, the hours we spend bonding while I
nurse him. I wouldn’t give those up for anything. I love reading. I
dedicate several hours of my week to reading books and those hours
are some of my most cherished. My little escape into the minds and
worlds of others. My opportunity to experience life in a different
way. That’s something else I am not willing to give up. Those are my
core three that need to be in my life. There are many other time-
consuming activities I like that I’d rather not stop doing like:
photography, writing this site, scrapbooking my son’s memories,
taking classes with/for David, etc.
But then there are others. Hours wasted having petty arguments around
office politics. Hours wasted trying to configure some kind of
installation or a piece of code that’s missing a stupid parenthesis
or semicolon (yey for python). Hours killed with being in a bad mood
or stuck in traffic or running stupid errands or having a fight. I
know it’s impossible to dispose of all of these. And maybe I am just
itching because it’s time to try something new. I think that my main
problem is that I feel insatiable. I feel like picking one thing is
not going to satisfy me since I still have to give up picking
something else.
I had told myself that if Jake did well enough for us to live on his
salary, I’d go back to school. Maybe get a PhD in Child Psychology.
Maybe get one in Computer Science. Or maybe I’d do a collection of
Masters degrees. One for math, one for computer science, one of
english, one for statistics. One for design. One for psychology. Art
history. Linguistics. Photography. Several individual languages. I
really can go on for quite some time. Now, I’m thinking maybe I
should just take classes. I don’t know if that’s even possible. I
don’t know that the schools I’d want to attend offer the option of
just taking classes. But I suppose theoretically if I had enough
money, I could convince them to let me. I wonder if that would quench
my thirst. Make me feel like I was finally sucking the marrow of life.
Make me feel like I was actually living several lifetimes in one.
I forgot how much time it takes to tweak this site. I’ve spent the
better part of a Sunday updating my scripts and that’s no fun.
So I am trying to find a way to allow me to post more frequently and
I have decided to go back to the very original weblog look which
means everything gets dumped to the main page regardless of its
category. No special section for photos or david. If you don’t like
the topic of a post, feel free to skip it.
I am in a constant state of flux on what to do about this site. This May, I will have been writing on and off for six years. For the first three or four years, I did write consistently and I looked forward to coming home and writing down my thoughts and feelings. Some days it was an effort but most days it really wasn’t. I still regularly go back to those posts and reread them so I am really glad they’re there. Not to mention all the photos I’ve accumulated over the years. They are all fantastic records of those years. Since I stopped working at the investment bank, it seems I haven’t really written consistently. I had a bout of consistent photo posting but even that came to an end with David’s birth.
The times when I’ve taken an “official” break, I’ve felt like a weight has been lifted off of me. At least once a day, I think of the site and how I should be updating and writing more. I think of taking photos and get depressed at the state of my life. But then when the time comes to write, I look at my to-do list and look at the things I have to give up. I have a full-time job and a part-time job. I have a little boy who’s getting more demanding each day. I take photos of him every day and post them weekly for my family to see. I am making a scrapbook for his first year which does seem to take countless hours of my crazy time. I still try to read a book a week (or two weeks) since it’s one of the few things that makes me feel peaceful and sane. I get around 50 emails a day that I have to respond to which are besides the over 100 I get for work. Not to mention the daily things like preparing 3 meals a day for the little boy and feeding them to him. We go to music class once a week, two different mom’s groups once a week each, a baby book club once every two weeks, and a ton of random crap that just comes up.
The only peaceful and uninterrupted times I have in the day are from 6:30pm to bedtime. Lately, thanks to my sinuses, I have been going to bed as early as 8pm which means I have 1.5 hours to eat dinner, catch up with my husband and go through my entire to-do list. So, I’ve been feeling slightly overwhelmed lately and giving this site (which hasn’t been updated with any regularity for months now) seems so enticing.
But then I can’t get myself to do it. This feels like a part of me. Something I poured so much of myself into. Something I can’t seem to let go. So I sit here, frustrated and unsure and tired of going back an forth. I most likely will make yet another set of changes to see if I can make it more enticing, easier for me to update more regularly. And if that doesn’t work either, well we’ll get there when we get there I guess.
Apologies for all the whining, it’s been a weird few weeks.
I am sick and tired of reading/hearing how parents feel like their kids owe them things. I understand that different people have differing points of view and all are valid. Well, this is my space so here goes nothing. Kids don’t ask to be created. Having a baby is something people decide to do (or accidentally fall into in some cases but we’re going to ignore those cases for today’s point) and people try to set up their lives as much as possible to accommodate this new being.
Having a baby is hard work, bringing it up is even harder. I am only at the very beginning of it and I can already admit it’s very very hard at times. And he hasn’t even come close to being a teenager yet. By no means, do I feel the need to belittle the amount of work, emotion, money, and sacrifice that goes into raising a human being. However, I feel like parents lose sight of the fact that this was completely their own decision. You had this baby because you wanted to. You fed and clothed and educated him/her because it was your obligation as a parent since this being that you decided to bring into this world would be helpless without you. Since you chose to create this person, I believe it’s your responsibility and duty to see it all the way through. Then, if the now grownup decides to “pay you back” by taking care of you and wanting to be with you, that’s great. But I don’t feel like that’s the kid’s duty. I feel like it’s my duty as a parent to raise my child such that he can learn to take care of himself and be the kind of parent that he’ll want to be around.
I remember reading Khalil Gibran’s words many years ago:
And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, “Speak to us of Children.” And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.
I know many parents wish the best for their kids and tell themselves that all the things they don’t allow them to do or tell them to do are for the kid’s best interest. But the desire to control one’s children seems too enticing. It seems so overwhelming that everyone does it. Even when the kid has kids of his/her own. The parents still have expectations and still try not to let go.
It’s been a relatively long week and hence the lack of updates. Even though I’ve had nothing urgent or critical to do, I’ve felt remotely annoyed and stressed out all week. Normally, I’d look forward to the weekend to get some rest but I have two shoots this weekend, which generally means I’ll be working my ass off and before I know it, it will be Monday again. And, as opposed to most normal companies, my place of business does not feel MLK day is an important enough holiday to observe. Good Friday? yes, absolutely. MLK day – no fucking way.
Thanks to the generous number of replies to my askme thread, I checked out twelve new books from the library. I gather some of them should be good. David has also generously lent me one so I am hoping I am set at least for the next few weeks. I am still in the blah zone for books, and feeling like there’s too much mediocrity there compared to excellence but I guess that’s the case by definition isn’t it?
I find that when I am in this mood, I am always tired, constantly eating bad crap, unable to focus and/or function in a positive manner. I am impatient with people i love and frustrated at the drop of a hat. I often don’t know how to get out of the funk either so I hide under the covers with a good book and pray it goes away sooner than later. I have two evening fun-events to go to next week and maybe they’ll be what I needed all along.
Or maybe not. Who knows?
|
projects for twenty twenty-four
projects for twenty twenty-three
projects for twenty twenty-two
projects for twenty twenty-one
projects for twenty nineteen
projects for twenty eighteen
projects from twenty seventeen
monthly projects from previous years
some of my previous projects
|
