I'm secretly misogynistic?

Whenever I think about all my favorite writers and vocalists and comedians and actors and politicians and philosophers - basically, anybody whose work I admire from afar - I realize that they are all men.

Perhaps it's because the sample I am working with here is skewed to begin with - after all, and the male-to-female ratio in almost all those areas puts the fairer sex at a disadvantage. But still, it is uncanny how quickly I find myself being put off by anything from Karen O's shriek to Hilary Clinton's hairstyle. I think the underlying explanation for this is that women tend to be jealous, judgmental, and skeptical of women whom they see as above or more powerful than them, whereas men recognize, accept, and look up to their "alpha" peers much more easily. I am not a psychologist and I have no proof for that claim (in fact, as I'm typing this I can think about a billion counterexamples. But on the whole I still think it holds true.)

I have swell relationships with females all the time in my personal life. I always have and will love the strong women in my family, my girlfriends, and even my stupid cat,  Bellatrix. But put some distance between me and an object of my affection, and its creator most likely possesses a Y chromosome. (Jamie Lee Curtis does not count.)

A few exceptions of females whose work I truly enjoy:

J.K. Rowling (...who went by a gender-neutral pen name in order to sell more books in the beginning of her career)

Tina Fey (...who usually opts to play the "frumpy and kind of manly funny woman" role) 

Justin Bieber (...who is a strong, independent woman! You go girl!)

Ankles, Hotdogging, and a Strange Discovery

Above: view from the cab on my way into the city from YYC. Despite its horrendously low winter temperatures, Calgary is famous for having beautiful clouds and sunshine year round.

I had a really lovely weekend back in Chicago. Except for the part where I sprained my ankle and had to hobble through O'Hare this morning (my gate was F13, which is literally the farthest away from security, of course) lookin' all sorts of demented. That is what I get for knocking back one too many whilst wearing high heels at a party.

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We at ThoughtWorks regularly play a prank on each other known as "hotdogging", where when somebody leaves his or her laptop unlocked and walks away from its vicinity, the rest of us will invariably mess with its settings to "punish" the CPU abandon-er. I hotdogged one of my colleagues this past week by rotating his screen 180 degrees and he had the most awful time trying to figure out how to change it back:

 

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I ate at a McDonald's today for the first time in Canada. And look what I found:

The presence of this maple leaf upsets me greatly. It looks like the golden arches are undergoing puberty and have grown a large and unsightly pimple on their face. I've been to McDonald's in Japan and India before and they sure as hell don't have silhouettes of uh, sumo wrestlers and Shivas on them. Who does Canada think it is, scarring our scared national culinary treasure like that!!!

First Flight Fiasco

I knew that it was bound to happen sometime, but I had not expected it to be during my fourth week on the job. 

My flight from O’Hare to Calgary was scheduled to depart Sunday evening at 5:47. I left my apartment at 3, got to the airport around 3:40, and somehow had passed through security by 4. I bought myself an iced tea, plugged in Human After All, and peeled through a chapter of Midnight’s Children before getting into the boarding line. I was one of the last people in line.

As I handed my boarding pass to the United representative, the scanner shut off and would not come back on.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ma’am, I’m afraid you are putting our flight over the weight limit. In the case of an emergency where we cannot land in Calgary, this aircraft cannot make it to the nearest accommodating airport with its current fuel supply. You and two other passengers will have to take another flight out tomorrow.”

“But-“

The representative had scurried back onto the plane to pull the other two passengers, who turned out to be a mother-daughter pair. They looked very important and expensive - I am pretty certain the mother’s haircut cost more than my net worth. Both were red-faced and shouting furiously at the United representative. Phrases like “We are elite members”, “this is not about safety, this is about DISCRIMINATION”, and “never flying United again” were thrown about at the gate. I stood there silently, praying that nobody would accidentally punch me in the face.

And of course, the piece de resistance in the conversation:

“So why were WE chosen to get off?”

“Ma’am, it is our policy to pull our lowest-ticketed guests first. Here is the list of how much each person on this flight paid. As you can see, here it says you and Ms. Fan did not pay anything.”

“THAT IS BECAUSE MY COMPANY IS PAYING FOR MY TICKETS, DO YOU UNDERSTAND? IF I CALL AND RECEIVE A CREDIT CARD STATEMENT FROM THEM, YOU’D SEE THAT 90% OF THAT PLANE WOULD GET OFF BEFORE ME!”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry. It’s company policy. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“I NEED TO BE ON THAT FLIGHT!”

“Ma’am, the flight has already left.”

Everyone had been so caught up in watching the tantrum that we had not noticed the aircraft pulling out of its dock. This spurned another round of screeching from the mother, while her daughter texted furiously on her BlackBerry, only stopping to look around tragically and say insightful things like “This is bullshit” and “I, like, have to be in Calgary!”

The next hour was spent with three United representatives scurrying around trying to find flights for Menopause Mom and CrackBerry Addict Daughter. I was invisible - I literally just stood there, avoiding eye contact with the duo, until one of the representatives looked up, realized I was still there, and handed me my vouchers and a boarding pass for a flight out the next morning. I probably could have gotten on an earlier flight had I made a fuss as well, but at this point I was too disgusted with both how childish Menopause Mom had been and how negligent all three United representatives had been towards me, the passenger who was in an equally sticky situation but who chose not to yell curses and threaten to “Yelp!” about their terrible business, to pursue the issue any further.

I spent last night in a ridiculous hotel room anyway, so really I don’t get to pout. I worked out in luxury, showered in luxury, and watched TV whilst lying in a king-sized bed and munching on a turkey sandwich. It was pretty glorious.

But all notions of comfort and relaxation flew out the window the next morning when I was waiting for the shuttle to the airport. I absent mindedly plunged my fingers into my backpack to grab my passport. Nothing. Oh, I put it inside Midnight's Children, which I kept in another compartment. But again, nothing.

I ran upstairs to my hotel room and turned it upside down. "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!" No beloved orange dog-eared copy fell from the folds of my bed. I checked my backpack and my luggage, throwing clothes everywhere. "Thisisn'thappeningthisisadreamithastobeadream". Finally I admitted that I had probably left it at the gate and flew back downstairs, just in time to catch the 9:00 shuttle to the airport. I arrived at 9:17, precisely 30 minutes before my morning flight was to board, and spent the better half of the next half-hour running about O'Hare International Airport like a lunatic. At every line I would explain my situation ("PLEASEILOSTMYAIRPORTMYPLANELEAVESINANHOUR") and would be ushered through to the front by confused, sympathetic folks. It wouldn't have been so bad had I not run into so many people I knew, damnit. But I just kept bumping into (sometimes literally) familiar faces, including one fellow ThoughtWorker whom I'd met many times before but for some reason I stuck out my hand and shook his before tearing off towards the lost and found.

Then at security, I absent mindedly stuffed my sandals into my backpack and then thirty seconds later, had a bunch of bewildered TSA staffmembers searching the area for a pair of orange braided sandals. Yeah, my brains had totally abandoned me at that point. I think that pulling those sandals out of my backpack and seeing the expressions on the security guards' faces had to be one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.

I managed to get onto my flight about five minutes before boarding closed. I slid into my seat (United Economy Plus! Fuck yeah), relieved, panting, and clutching onto my Midnight's Children for dear life. Then, the dreaded words blared over the speaker:

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm afraid we have a weight issue with this aircraft..."

But no, thank the heavens, I was not bumped again. In fact, I had a pretty nice and uneventful flight over to Calgary. Except for the part where I ordered a beer at 11 in the morning and received some skeptical looks. But I didn't care - I was pretty sure that out of everyone on that plane on that morning, I deserved that beer the most.

Traveling

Traveling is expensive.

Traveling is time-consuming.

Traveling is fucking exhausting.

All of these I had anticipated. And after three weeks I can safely confirm that they are 100% true. But here are some other things I was pleasantly surprised to find whilst embarking on my adventures on the road/in the sky:

Flights are not bad as long as you have something to do on them and are looking forward to it. In fact, they can be quite relaxing if you are sitting in a comfortable seat (often times I get bumped up to Economy Plus on flights where those seats do not fill up) and have a novel to read, an album to explore, or some serious zzz's to catch. Lately I have been plunking down with my copy of Midnight's Children (still on this one, though I have made some serious headway) and plugging in my earphones (currently obsessed with Deerhunter's Microcastle. SO GOOD AH). When my eyes get tired of reading I usually take a nap or stare out the window if there are clear skies and interesting views of the land/horizon below.

Along the same lines, packing is not nearly as bad as I'd anticipated - as long as I have a checklist (either mental or physical) of the things I need to bring, it's usually a speedy and productive process. It forces me to be lean, practical, and organized about all my stuff. It also helps that I picked out a suitcase that I adore!

Taxi drivers are usually really, really interesting. For one thing, they are incredibly diverse and come from all sorts of backgrounds. For another, they know tons and tons more than you do about your city. And to top it off, most of them are really engaging folks who have open ears and would like nothing more than to share their stories with you. Sometimes I feel trapped in a social/work circle of professionals and students who all have tons of work and take themselves very seriously and stress out 24/7. It is nice to engage in a different sort of conversation and to see the world from another perspective.

Staying in touch, c'est difficile! It really does take effort and time and motivation to make sure I do not fall completely out of my friends' lives five days a week. But I have found that putting time into friendships and family is always worth it. Similarly, being away makes coming back that  much more special - I now find that my weekends are much more busy/adventurous and that I am so much more glad for my room/friends/bed when I am deprived of them!

And perhaps, most importantly of all:

There are kind, funny, gracious, and smart people everywhere. You just have to try a little and usually you will see the brighter side of people. I am not usually one for talking to strangers - usually I am earplugged into my own little world - but I have found that beneath everybody's perhaps exhausted, perhaps grumpy, perhaps lonely expressions is just the desire to be happy and appreciated and respected. This is especially true of people who work at airports who have to deal with so many people who simply see them as invisible or annoying barriers - although I do not like how sometimes they are rude, I also find it hard to blame them for their unpleasant demeanor because I could probably not last a week in their roles. Often times a small smile or a subtle gesture of appreciation can produce wonderful results.

This past weekend at O'Hare, the security line was horrendously sluggish (tell me something I don't know...) to the point where the people waiting to get their passports and boarding passes checked in the previous line were all immobile, standing around the equally-bored looking TSA checkers at their stands. I was happily listening to the Beatles on my Pre and I guess I must have been tapping my feet or bopping along a bit too much because before I knew it, the elderly TSA Passport-checker had gotten up from his seat and was dancing next to me, hands in the ai-yar and all, and everyone around us was laughing because it took me a few seconds to notice what was going on. He asked me what I was listening to and I pulled out the earphones from my phone and "Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da" started to play, so we started to dance together like idiots. (I was waving my phone in one hand, clutching my passport in the other). And then - get this - the guy behind me started singing along to the song. He had an awesome booming voice and some people started to clap and join in. So just imagine, a small Asian girl dancing with an old black guy and a huge lumberjack-lookin' guy belting out the Beatles while a small crowd of middle-aged onlookers with suitcases laughed and clapped along. I kid you not, this actually happened. It was such a Lifetime movie moment. And it rocked.

Home away from home away from home

Long Hair

I do not know why I thought it would be a good idea to order an espresso with my dessert this evening. Maybe because usually caffeine has no effect whatsoever on my sleeping schedule. Maybe because I was already pretty tired after a long day and needed a pick-me-up. Maybe because its strong bitterness perfectly offset my smooth, sugary creme brulee. I simply do not know. But I cannot for the life of me seem to fall asleep, and so as a result I am going to blog about long hair!

I have had long hair for a long time. And in that span of long time I have heard a bunch of "true facts" which are allegedly "backed" by "scientific research" about long hair, like how men are supposed to be more attracted to it or washing it every day depletes it of natural oils or how I must diligently and ardently protect it before applying heat or it will all fall off and I will be bald for the rest of my existence on earth. To all that I say: scientific research shmientific shresearch! I have not put heat protectant in my hair many a time and I still have a healthy crop o locks atop my head, whose properties I have found to be extremely useful in the following ways:

Brain Heater

When it's cold outside, long hair always creeps up to no.1 on my list of best friends! I wrap it around my face, neck, and ears and I find myself shrouded in a warm and nice-smelling shroud of keratin!

Extensions of this use: If my inner earlobes are feeling chilly then I just stick some hair in there and I'm all set. Tendrils of hair can also be shoved into nostrils to stop those annoying nosebleeds.

Instructor Separator

The above picture sums up my journey at the University of Chicago pret-ty well. I took many a nap knowing that my shameful slumbering face was securely shielded from my pesky professor's prying peepers. University of Chicago: Where Fun Goes to Die? Nah, more like University of Chicago: Where Fun Goes to Take a Nap Behind its Glorious Mane During Elements of Economic Analysis-2.

Extensions of this use: hiding from other annoyances in life, like dentists, bears, homework, Nickelback songs, etc.

Weapon/Harbinger of Justice

How do I, despite all my paranoid Asian mom's prophecies of doom and death, continue to survive in an urban environment full of bad guys who would like nothing better than to take my lunch money and buy THEMSELVES lunch? I guarantee you it is neither through wit nor physical superiority. Instead, my secret lies in the ancient weapon known as whiplash. One fast well-aimed turn of the head will send the meanest chump crying home, tail tucked between his legs and a nice imprint of my latest haircut on his face.

Extensions of this use: closing doors, making your dogsled team "mush!", punishing your siblings

H2o Storage

Nalgenes and Camelbaks bow down their inferior forms before long hair, the ultimate way to store, transport, and dispense water. As long as you don't mind a bit of sweat or shampoo or hairspray or dandruff in your beverage, hairwater is a guaranteed way to quench your thirst. Just wrap your fingers tight around your locks, wring hard, and listen to the sweet trickle of follicle nectar collecting in your vessel of choice. Pit-pat, pit-pat.

Extensions of this use: watering your plants, diluting your whiskey, baptizing small children.

If this entry does not make you want to immediately vow to never cut your hair ever again then I do not know what would. Have a nice day.

More

Today, Becca and I continued to have great adventures.

Above: The Eye and the Cardinal. Taken while I was being harassed by some dudes...awkward.

Prospies beware: this is what UChicago girls look like

A cool-lookin' building on Michigan Avenue

Buckingham Fountain, in all its glory

Chicago Jazz Festival, also in all its glory

Back at the Shire - sushi + beer

 I wore this shirt downtown and was unaccustomed to the stares. One old man started yelling "Tasty, TASTY MURDER!!!" as we walked by. Which was funny, except probably not to people who had not seen my shirt and only heard him shouting that in the street,

Our masterpiece

The exec chef, hard at work.

Weekend Pictures

The Bean on a cloudy day in Chicago

 Bellatrix recharging her dark arts

Ironic hipster? Or tragically stuck in the 60s?

Taken @ Urban Outfitters... of course

New bathroom rug! + my feet.

(Kk, if you are reading this, I tried sending it to ya on my phone but I had no service ever. Hope you like it!)

I am currently reading Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children*, an absolutely fantastic novel about magic and India and doctors and all sorts of great things along those lines. Rushdie is a brilliant writer - his sentences are short and understated but each word is carefully plucked, examined, and polished before it is carved into ink such that the scenes and dialogues become so vivid and colorful. This is the first time in a long time (maybe since Harry Potter! Oh man) that I have dreaded finishing a book - I highly recommend it to anybody with an interest/appreciation/penchant for magical realism, Indian culture of the twentieth century, or just general good storytelling.

*Oops. Corrected.

CRAZY

Sometimes there are just days that I know are going to be absolutely insane. Tomorrow is one of them. Check out my schedule:

4:00 AM - Alarm 1 will go off. I will roll over, turn it off, throw my phone across the room, and resume my slumber.
4:30 AM - Alarm 2 will go off. I will roll over, realize my phone is not on the nightstand, mumble many curses, get outta bed, brush my teeth, and frantically throw everything I own into my suitcase.
5:00 AM - Hop into a taxi.
5:30 AM - Arrive at Calgary International Airport (YYC). Stumble my way through customs and security. Seek nearest source of caffeine once I'm at my gate.
7:15 AM - Board plane & takeoff! Pass out immediately on the plane ride, drool on my neighbor.
11:30 AM - Arrive at ORD, hail a taxi.
12:00 PM - Arrive at the Ramada Inn on Lake Shore to pick up a friend from high school, who has her Pritzker SOM interview in the afternoon and is staying the night at our apartment.
12:10 - Drop friend off at the Shire/get her settled/let her do her thing. Run to a CVS and buy a 30-day CTA pass. Get on the 2 bus to go downtown.
12:40 - Arrive at the Aon Center. Drop off everyone else's receipts (apparently I am now the Chicago office receipt mule) and start on my pile of expenses. Realize how much nasty food I eat in a week and become disgusted with myself and my body. Use any leftover time in the office to continue learning Java or help with miscellaneous beach projects.
4:00 - Reluctantly say goodbye to all the pub-night goers, hop on the 2 back to Hyde Park.
5:00 - Arrive at the apartment. Catch my breath & collect some friends. Pet Bellatrix Babystar.
6:00 - Go back downtown with mah peeps for dinner.
8:00 - Go to some other neighborhood for overpriced yuppie dessert.
10:00 - Get back home. Either pass out immediately or drink until I do.


I am tired from just writing about it. Then there's Saturday, which will require more sightseeing around the city, and after that, silly things like a haircut, going to the dry cleaners, booking next week's flights, setting up my scanner, etc, all while I am still home. I'm pretty sure this is interesting to NOBODY EVER but honestly I'm so freaked out about it that it's all I can think about at the moment.

One thing that's pretty awful about traveling is that I do not really get to practice the guitar anymore. Even if I had the patience and was willing to risk bringing my instrument back and forth every week, I don't think I'd have the energy or the level of concentration needed to properly practice it after each day of work...ugh.

One thing that's pretty GREAT about traveling is my new corporate suite. I just got the keys to it today and stopped by to drop some things off and was like, ohmygod, THANK YOU THOUHTWORKS. Pictures coming soon to an adidav9.blogspot.com near you!

Canada, America's Hat

It's been an insane couple of days, but I've finally been able to catch my breath, look back, and form together a few thoughts about working here in Canada. I'll start from the beginning.

LINES.

And more lines.

I really should've known better than to book a flight out of O'Hare on a Sunday afternoon. I set out from my apartment at around 1:15, got to the airport at around 3:00, and got through ticketing & security by... 5. 15 minutes before my flight left...oops.

I flew by ways of Air Canada, which is operated by United Airlines at ORD. It was a tiny plane, but the seats were super comfy and the service was excellent. I spent the better part of the three and a half hour plane ride watching the very entertaining Catch Me If You Can, which I'd halfheartedly watched a long time ago at some high school party or another.

The first thing that hit me when I stepped off the plane was how chilly it was. I'd left a lovely, warm, and sunny Chicago for a gloomy, rainy, foreign Calgary...mmmmmmm. I sped through customs, got my work permit, hopped in a cab, arrived at my hotel room, threw down all my stuff, and plopped facedown on the bed, exhausted.

Above: View of downtown Calgary at night from my hotel room

 The next morning, I got up bright and early for my first day of work! I spent the whole day Monday wandering around, being lost, and trying not to look so confused/dumb. I spent the whole day Tuesday doing the same exact thing. And er, today was not much different. 

Although I am not at liberty to disclose who our client is, what I can say is that I've joined a small team of BAs within a much larger project at a relatively stressful/chaotic time. Instead of traditional story-writing, we spent more of our time performing data analysis and rationalization. There is a lot of information being thrown at me every second and it is awfully hard to absorb - by midday I feel like my brains have turned into giant fluffy marshmallows and my vision is blurring and my reflexes are rusty and basically I become a big confused blob of incompetence and dull-wittedness. But I know that while things are a bit crazy right now, I will get familiar with the domain (and it will be glorious!). And it definitely helps having awesome ThoughtWorkers around who're always willing to answer my questions, invite me to dinner, and basically help bring me up to speed as quickly and with as much support as possible - yay!

I haven't had much time to explore the city, but I did manage to walk around one day after work for about 30 minutes and snap a few pictures:

...yeah, really not too exciting in our neck of the woods (which is allegedly where a lot of retired folks live), but I've heard great things about plenty of other parts of the city, like the trendy 17th commercial street area and the fantastic Calgary zoo and the the hipster-y Kensington neighborhood. Then there are Calgary's many beautiful mountain ranges to explore - I absolutely cannot wait for a weekend trip out to see some breathtaking scenery.

I can tell that traveling back and forth from Chicago is going to be thoroughly exhausting, but at the same time it's really quite nice to get out and go somewhere by myself and experience a city in a completely new way. I cannot imagine how my colleagues who have spouses and children back at home do it, though - I can barely stand to be away from my silly cat for this long ;) Definitely looking forward to coming home on Friday and spending a peaceful Memorial Day in (warm and sunny) Chi-city.

It's 10:10, but if I want to wake up by 6 (which I do) and get eight hours of sleep (which I also do), I am already overdue for bedtime! Stop your snickering. SLEEP IS COOL, MAN.