Wedding planning

We're less than four months away from the big day and shit is starting to get real.

So far, wedding planning has been 50% fun and 50% anxiety-inducing. The fun stuff includes things like small DIY projects, going to thrift stores to find decor, and picking out my bridesmaids gifts. The not fun stuff includes looking at my credit card statements and slowly but surely becoming insane. Some recent episodes:

(while on a hike in Boulder) "Should we use pinecones as placeholders? Quick, let's collect 120 pinecones. But only pick ones that will stand up on their own!"

(while scrolling through Pinterest) "Should we make a thousand paper cranes?"

(when picking out stamps) "I HAVE to have these fern ones...no other stamps will work."

Every decision is a battle between my left brain and my right. Half of me really scrutinizes every little detail and wants things to be perfectly pinterest-worthy. The other half does not care at all and reminds me about how much time I've spent fawning over one little inconsequential detail. Usually the latter wins out and I make myself move on, but I'm still surprised every time I get so caught up in the little bitty things.

I'm really curious what weddings will be like in a hundred years. Will there be a post office to send physical invitations? Will some women still take their husbands' names? Will all the popular wedding name combination hash tags all be exhausted by then? Hopefully I'll be immortal by then and I'll be able to see for myself at my great-great-grandchildren's weddings.

Speaking of hash tags... ours is #dereksnumberonefan. Pretty clever, ain't it? #istillloveyouviggo was a close runner up.

Climbing

One of my favorite hobbies is rock climbing. I have been climbing off-and-on for almost three years now and recently have been enjoying it to the point where I think I’d happily climb every single day if my schedule and body allowed it.

When I first started climbing, I was not particularly keen on the activity or interested in its mechanics. Getting up the wall was challenging and somewhat fun, but that was pretty much the extent of my enjoyment as a climber. And after I caused a belaying incident (where thankfully nobody was injured but everyone’s nerves were really shaken), I was absolutely terrified to belay anybody ever again and I refused to do so for months afterwards. If that wasn’t enough, I also felt uncomfortable with heights. Sometimes I’d get to the top of my route and I would be afraid to let go. I’d have to shout to my partner, “You got me?” and they’d respond “Yep, gotcha!” and I’d say “Are you sure?” and they’d say “Positive!” and I’d say “I’m so scared!” and they’d say “Let go of the damn wall already!”. This was top roping, not even lead climbing (where falling does have more risk). So yeah. I began my climbing journey scared shitless of belaying and scared slightly less shitless of climbing itself.

Over the years, as I learned from much more experienced climbers, I started to get a better grasp of the physics involved, both as a belayer and a climber. The boy and I bought a GriGri device which is designed to auto-lock, i.e. be idiot-proof, and that helped a lot with my confidence as a belayer. We also watched climbing videos on YouTube to learn common techniques and would excitedly practice them at the gym the next time. At the peak of our routine, we were climbing three times a week. With every route, it got easier to trust the rope, trust myself, and trust my partner. My brain slowly rewired itself into being more comfortable with letting go of the wall. And the more my fear and discomfort subsided, the better I could focus on how damn awesome it felt to be doing moves or completing routes that once appeared impossibly scary. I still remember feeling incredulous the first time I did a pull-up. I felt like I was having my own personal Peter-Parker-the-morning-after-that-radioactive-spider-injected-him-with-super-human-strength moment. 

I took an extended break from climbing for a lot of 2015 to focus on marathon training/moving to Denver but started it up again towards the end of the year. I'm now going at least once a week to maintain my strength and am hoping to get back into the 3 times a week schedule. I also started to ask my friends and family to join me. I loved showing them the ropes (literally) and seeing their thoughts change from “No way in hell am I doing that” to “Wow! I got all the way up there!” I went recently with a friend for her first time climbing and she loved it so much that she wanted to go again the next day. I was elated (and happily obliged, of course.)

In the grand scheme of things, I am still very much a novice at climbing. There’s so much to learn still. And there are always harder routes to try and techniques to master. I’m happy to have found an activity that I enjoy so much and that I can experience with others. It’s become my favorite way to spend a long afternoon on the weekends, or a couple of hours after a workday. And it’s one of those rare activities that you can do with friends on a regular basis that doesn’t need to involve alcohol (although a cold beer after a few hours of climbing tastes incredible!). And it’s something you can take outside, too. I could go on and on... but at the end of the day, climbing is the perfect intersection of a mental, physical, social, and fun activity. If you haven’t tried it, definitely give it a go. And take me with you.

Things that are happening right now

I have five days left of work left in Istanbul.

Our site will be in production tomorrow for the first time to a limited audience. Production, baby!!!! The single most important thing in software, and yet something that often we lose sight of and never get to because of politics, people, processes. Our team has been chasing this goal for months and we are just steps away from the finish line. It feels exhilarating.

My mom, dad, sister and the boy's mom and brother arrive here in two days. We'll all spend a crazy weekend in Istanbul together. It will be a jetlagged whirl of mosques and art and kofta for them. I can't wait to show them around.

Then next Wednesday, the boy and I will say goodbye to the team here and board our flight to Delhi. From there we'll take a connecting flight to Jaipur and spend a week there celebrating our roommate's wedding.

And after that... well, it's actually still sort of up in the air. I should find out in a few days.

There is so much excitement and so much uncertainty. As always, near the end of projects, I find myself in a glass box of bittersweet emotion. Whenever those feelings start to flood in, I am reminded of how fortunate I am. To be alive and healthy, to love and be loved, to have a job that enables me to experience these things, and to truly enjoy what it is I do.

2014: over and out

Last year, I resolved to:

1. Think and act more positively.

In retrospect, I'm not sure this was a great resolution because it is difficult to quantify. I'm reflecting on the intention behind this goal and I don't think I was more or less positive than usual. We'll call this one a wash.

2. Floss every day.

Possibly the most boring resolution ever but hey, oral hygiene is important. I think I flossed 3 or 4 times on average a week - so roughly every other day. I'm sure my dentist would still consider this inadequate, but for me it was a marked improvement. Like my skincare routine, flossing is one of those things I tend to forgo if I'm exhausted at night, which of late has been almost every night. I think it comes down to mental outlook - I consider not brushing my teeth an act of sacrilege. But skipping flossing is ok because flossing is a bonus. I'd like to change my attitude on this and start making flossing a must have instead of a nice to have. Grade: C

3. Visit ten countries that I have not been to before.

I knocked this one out of the ballpark! Probably because of all the extra time I had from not flossing. Here are the new countries I visited (in order of appearance, with some accompanying posts featuring that visit):

1. Scotland (1, 2, 3, 4)
2. England
3. Netherlands (no blog entries, pictures here)
4. France
5. Spain (1, 2, 3)
6. Turkey (1, 2, 3)
7. Austria
8. Slovakia
9. Czech Republic
10. Portugal (no blog entires, pictures here)
11. Wales (some pictures here, along with the beautiful English countryside)
12. Greece
13. Denmark (pictures here and here)
14. Germany (pictures here)
15. Montenegro
16. Croatia

Not a shabby country to blog post ratio either. A+

In 2015, I resolve to:

Stop working so much. In my first years as a professional, I've always felt the need to compensate for my lack of experience by working extra hard and making my job my number one priority. Over the years, ThoughtWorks has given me opportunities to take on stretch roles so that I can continue to grow. But even with more experience under my belt, I haven't been able to shake off that mentality that work should come first. And naturally, the more demanding roles require more of me. So if anything, I've become more addicted to work. Symptoms include being glued to my work e-mail, feeling intensely guilty when on vacation, missing team dinners or events just to get that one last thing done, and regarding 11 or 12 hour day workdays as normal/acceptable/fine. I'm not feeling burnt out quite yet, but if I continue at this rate, I will be a charred black lump of coal.

This doesn't mean I'm going to sit on my ass, turn on Netflix and eat flaming hot cheetos until I pass out (though that does sound good for one day). I want to still work hard and be proud of what I am doing; I just don't want to become masochistic about it. I resolve to work more smartly, to say no or to ask for help when I'm feeling overwhelmed, and to find some more purpose to my life (volunteering, or maybe tutoring) that pulls me away from the job but still makes me feel accomplished.

Find and promote females who are doing awesome things. I consume a lot. I read, watch, listen, subscribe, follow, pin, retweet, like, etc. And I mean I literally consume a lot too (particularly when I can get my grubby paws on Korean barbecue). You know what the vast majority of the producers of these things have in common? They are men. Men author the books I read. Men defeat the baddies in the movies I watch. Men give the keynote speeches that rock the industry I work in. Hell, even in the food industry, men dominate; of the 2,500 restaurants in the world that are Michelin starred, a measly 10 of them have female chefs.

Whenever possible, I want to look for what women are doing in these areas; I want to hear and amplify their voices, too. As part of the #readwomen2015 movement, I resolve to read 8 books by female authors this year. I also want to consciously extend this gender bias to other areas in which I an a consumer - film, music, sports, politics - and hopefully along the way, discover some positive female role models that I can look up to and elevate.

This is not about being a feminist or blocking out what men have to say. This is about recognizing that much of what I know is narrated by one group of people; there are others out there, ready to be heard.

Run a marathon. I'm turning 26 this year, so it seems a fitting time to run 26.2 miles. The Chicago marathon takes place in October so that gives me plenty of time to train. I'm thinking it'd be neat to travel and races in other places as well - maybe join up with some of my running friends, like Ashley in New York, Yoyo in DC (though maybe soon in SF!) or Scott in Berlin. I don't have a time goal - I'd like to just finish with my dignity intact.

There you have it, three ambitious goals to kick off the new year. 2014 has undoubtedly been one of the best (and crazy) years of my life. It'll be hard to top getting engaged and living abroad in two new countries. But I'm ready to wind down a little, get back home and kick some ass in 2015. 

Life in Glasgow so far

I was prepared to write a long entry about a weekend in Paris but the internet in the apartment has not been cooperating with Flickr. A post about Paris without pictures seems wrong; sacrilegious, even. I'll find a solution soon, but in lieu of that I thought I'd let loose a little and just blog about what life here has been like so far.

A typical work week begins Monday when the alarm goes off at 7:10. I get ready, caffeinate myself as quickly as possible, tell the (colorblind) boy that his undershirt clashes with the shirt he picked out, and we aim to be out the door by 8. About once a week I forget something (usually my phone), stop mid-stair-descent, turn around and go back for it.

I venture outside; on any given day there seems to be about a 50% chance of drizzle. It's usually nothing that a hood can't take fend off, but it tends to dampen the spirit nonetheless. The flip side is that when the sun does make an appearance in Glasgow, it instantly puts the entire city, myself included, in a cheery mood. Sunshine is definitely not taken for granted round these parts.

Work is about a mile away. On the way there I pass through the city's bustling center which includes hordes of commuters pouring out of Glasgow's Central Station. If I get the timing right I usually pass a man who looks like Walter White walking in the opposite direction. I tug at the boy's sleeve and inform him of my W.W. sighting.

The boy and I get to the client site and settle into our respective seats. The day usually begins quietly - a few hellos and how were your weekends here and there - but the conversation doesn't linger because this early crowd knows that these quiet minutes in the morning are precious. Precious for mental calibration, for getting an early start to the day's work, for luxurious slow sips of coffee before the circus arrives.

And arrives it does. By 10:30 most of the team is here, many straight from the airport. Every time I see a fellow ThoughtWorker enter the team room and roll their suitcase into a corner on Monday morning I feel a wave of gratitude wash over me for not having to fly each week anymore. But I digress. We walk through our card wall (an array of index cards that capture chunks of functionality to develop or tasks to investigate) as a large group and we then break into smaller huddles which usually conclude with "Go team!" - a cheesy but effective motivator to start the day.

Here is where the daily narrative ends, for no day at work is the same and certainly no day is predictable. Usually it's a mixture of writing on white boards, kicking off or handing over user stories, talking with my product owner or business SME, and a random assortment of meetings/discussions/team Kumbayamylords. On average Monday through Wednesdays are fairly crazy and fast-paced whereas Thursdays and Fridays are a lot more relaxed. I'm still trying to find ways to plan ahead and flatline my cortisone levels.

Although the work can be challenging, it is also rewarding. We're working with a smart, willing client and the software we're building provides value in the short term and serves as a technological platform for further transformation down the line. Our culture at work encourages being honest with each other, challenging our own assumptions, failing fast, iterating quickly, speaking up for technological excellence, and cracking fart jokes. It's truly a fun and interesting place to be; most days I wake up excited to go in and do some cool stuff.

And as for working on the same project team with the boy - well, that's been surprisingly smooth. It helps that everything is out in the open and everyone is very laid back. Occasionally he and I will butt heads on something or another but that's bound to happen between any business analyst and developer. We work it out like big boys and girls.

The work day usually ends between 6:00 and 6:30. Sometimes I have to force myself to leave the office because the work can be so engaging and it's almost addictive to stay and do just a bit more. (This project/domain is BA crack, I tell ya.) Recently our weeknights have been a packed agenda as well; on Monday we go on a group run, Tuesdays and Thursdays are for rock climbing, Wednesdays usually involved a team outing of sorts, and Friday is for pub. On nights when we don't eat out (which is most of the time) we whip up something simple for dinner before spending the last few hours of the evening surfing the internet or watching something on Netflix together. Then it's time for bed.

The weekdays have been flying by in a frenzy of such activity and the weekend always descends upon us rather suddenly. We've been traveling roughly every other one. So far I've accomplished 40% of my goal to visit ten new countries (Scotland, England, France, and Netherlands) - not bad for two months' time. There are more planned ahead: over Easter weekend we'll be going to Barcelona, and at the end of April we'll take a full week off to see Turkey, Vienna and Prague. In May there's Wales with the boy's family, and after that, some talk of Portugal and Greek islands for the summertime...

On weekends when we stay in Glasgow, it's a nice mix between playing catch up non-work work (planning more trips), exploring more of what's in and around Glasgow, and generally enjoying some down time. As sexy as the travel can be, the stay-put weekends are sometimes just as wonderful and often more needed for sanity-restoring purposes.

It's surreal to step back and think that we have been living on another continent for a little over two months. In that time we have basically started our lives anew - new apartment, new friends, new surroundings, new work. Yet it's all oddly familiar as well, like we're living in some sort of Scottish alternate reality where everything's the same but there's haggis instead of hotdogs.

I do feel pangs of homesickness for family and friends and Chipotle back in the US. But mostly I am happy and grateful for so many things: for the opportunity to see Europe, for the ability to have loved ones visit and experience Scotland themselves, for the fantastic project and team, and most of all, for being in the same place as the boy every night of the week. I am very lucky to be here in Glasgow.

2013 Resolution Report Card and 2014 Resolutions

Last year, I resolved to:

1.) Stop losing all my shit all the time.

I did not come close to achieving this resolution. In 2013 I continued to lose all my shit all the time. Perhaps even at a higher rate than before, e.g. I managed to lose four different different CamelBak Eddy water bottles within the span of five months. Grade: F

2.) Run a half marathon. 

I ran the Chi Town half marathon and came in under my goal time of two hours! But then I got plantar fasciitis in my foot from improper training and hobbled around for a week afterwards. Grade: A-

3.) Re-discover my love for reading. 

I purchased a Kindle, which was definitely a step in the right direction. Having an e-reader certainly made reading more pleasant, especially after the FAA began permitting gate-to-gate use of PEDs. I wouldn't say I became completely re-enamored with reading, but I certainly enjoyed my fair share of some standout titles in 2013, including:

Dune by Frank Herbert
The Selfish Gene by Richard Dawkins

The Name of the Wind and The Wise Man's Fear, both by Patrick Rothfuss

Switch by Chip and Dan Heath

I'm currently reading Paths of Glory by Jeffrey Archer (it's fairly good) which was a Christmas gift, and next on the queue are What Einstein Told His Cook: Kitchen Science Explained and The Art of Raising a Puppy. Then I'll get to the half dozen that are still awaiting on my Kindle. Grade: B

As for 2014, I'd like to:

1.) Think and act more positively. Life's too short to constantly be bemoaning about this, complaining about that, or feeling bummed for extended periods of time about whatnot. When shit happens, as it invariably will, I plan to get over it by finding the silver lining or finding a way to laugh about it.

2.) Floss every day. My dentist greatly supports this resolution.

3.) Travel to ten countries that I haven't been to before. Sounds quite ambitious, but should be feasible if I'm frolicking about in the UK. Spain, I am coming for you and your tasty tasty paella.

There you have it, three new goals to kick off the new year. I'm feeling quite excited for what's in store for 2014!

On Michaela Cross' "India: the Story You Never Wanted to Hear"

In the past few weeks, you may have come across an article entitled "India: the Story You Never Wanted to Hear" by an undergraduate named Michaela Cross.

If you haven't, here's a link to it: http://ireport.cnn.com/docs/DOC-1023053

I first saw this article circulating across social outlets among my University of Chicago network, and then later came across it posted on Reddit. A few days ago, I went to cnn.com and was surprised to see the article and a picture of Michaela staring back at me, front and center. Since then I've had several conversations with friends and co-workers about it.

I had a pretty strong reaction to Michaela's article because she and I had several things in common going into our India experiences. She is a woman in her early twenties, and so am I. She spent three months in India about a year ago; so did I (and two years before that, I spent 6 weeks in India right after graduating college). We even share the same alma mater, so I'd argue that our surroundings and student life before we went to India were comparable. To sum it up: we were both privileged young non-Indian women who jumped at our respective opportunities to go to India.

I do acknowledge that we differ in our appearance. She has fair skin and red hair; I do not. I probably did not stand out as foreign or exotic as she did to the locals. But despite looking less like a foreigner, I still was one, including by my appearance. I also spent a significant amount of time traveling with white women; women who stood out just as starkly against the backdrop of an overwhelmingly-Indian population as Michaela did throughout our travels within Delhi, Agra, Goa, Bangalore, Mysore, Hampi, and Pondicherry.

So with all that in mind, I wanted to share my experience and reaction to hers.

In the 18 weeks I spent between my two trips to India, I was never grabbed at. I was never masturbated at. I danced around and wasn't filmed. And I certainly never found myself in the situation she did of locking herself into a hotel room as a hotel staff member who allegedly attempted to rape her roommate called her again and again. Nothing I encountered came close to the horrible experiences that she went through.

Yet other parts of her account resonated more closely with my experience. I did find that I attracted stares. I did have street hagglers chase me. And a few times, strangers did take pictures of me without my permission (I should add that plenty of others did ask for permission). Those experiences left me feeling unsettled, but not unsafe.

The staring can be hard to quantify. What's appropriate and what's inappropriate? What's the intent of the staring? It's natural for people to look at each other and people everywhere do it - perhaps here in the US we do it more covertly and with a quicker tendency to look away when caught - but we still do it. When I've traveled to other countries where the staring culture/etiquette is not as conservative, I felt that I received a similar number and duration of stares from Italian and Peruvian men as I did in India. I also received plenty of stares from women and children. It can be uncomfortable at times, yes. But I attributed it to people's natural propensity/curiosity to look at things that they aren't used to seeing. Never did I interpret the stares as a threat to my safety.

I had street hagglers follow me, yes. Sometimes briefly, other times at length. I saw street hagglers follow foreign men too, and Indian women, and Indian men, and basically anyone else who expressed interest in their wares, just as frequently and with the same gusto. Again, to me those experiences certainly were an annoyance, but they never escalated to the point where I felt unsafe. My interpretation was that they were persistent because I looked like a sucker who would overpay for their goods.

And yes, I had pictures taken of me, sometimes without permission. Of the three behaviors discussed thus far, this is arguably the most severe. But again, I've heard of and witnessed this happening in countries all over the world; and every time with no harm or harassment, sexual or otherwise. In her article Michaela laments, "who knows how many strangers have used my image as pornography?" - a question that never crossed my mind and that frankly I was shocked to see as a conclusion that she had jumped to. I never had reason to believe the photos that people were taking of me were to be used as pornography. I recall a time when a white male I was traveling with was asked by an Indian man to pose for a picture with the Indian man's son, a toddler. I highly doubt that photo was used as pornography. Rather, I believed these pictures were captured to proof to friends and families that they saw someone interesting or different in their day. Was it right or permissible for them to take pictures of me without permission? I'd argue probably not, because it seems disrespectful based on the values and culture I'm used to. But was it a threat to my safety? Did I feel that the photographs made me into a sexual object? No, no.

All of this comes down to interpretation, which by nature is subjective. I don't think it's valuable to argue that my interpretations are more correct than Michaela's, or vice versa. I also don't think they are necessarily equal; if I had encountered some of the more aggressive behavior that Michaela did, perhaps they would have cast a shadow on these milder acts. If I'd been filmed dancing, maybe the picture taking wouldn't have been so easy to brush off. Or if I'd been groped, any more stares may have appeared as a menacing preamble to inappropriate touching. I don't know, because those things didn't happen to me or to any women I was with during my travels.

What I did experience during my travels were immense displays of kindness and hospitality by the Indian people I met. I spent time at an orphanage where I was offered cola. I was invited to spend holidays with my co-worker's family in lieu of not being near my own. I was offered a sari to wear, sweets to eat, walks to my apartment at night, suggestions of places to go, and help just about every time I asked it. I feel that I was left India with an overwhelmingly positive imprint of its people, which is why it saddened and surprised me to read Michaela's account and the subsequent effects that her trip had on her.

I could go on and on about the good things I experienced - but the point I want to make is that I felt safe the whole time I was in India. Much safer than when I lived in a neighborhood in the south side of Chicago. And before we are so quick to blast foreign places like India for putting up with such horrible treatment of women, we should look at our own numbers; in 2010, for every 100,000 people, 1.8 incidents of rape were reported. In the United States, for the same year, that number was 27.3 (source). If India was a "woman's hell" to Michaela, what do these numbers say about our home country?

Above all, I do not condemn, dismiss, or question the experiences that Michaela had on her trip to India or the way she interpreted them. I also do not condemn raising awareness of the rape culture in India. Those are important issues that need to be shared, to have attention drawn to, and to be fixed. I believe her account has helped to bring light to those issues in some ways.

Where I am concerned is that the picture that Michaela paints does not capture anything about Indian individuals other than the dirty actions of the men she had the misfortune to encounter. I fear that through the choice of words and experiences that Michaela used in her report, which she qualifies as "the story you need", readers will believe that India is a country that tolerates or celebrates a culture where depraved men exploit and sexualize all foreign women who enter their lands. And I fear that they will vow to not go to India as a result of their fear, or to look at all Indian men (and women) with disgust, or slander the country.

I know that as a young woman, had I never gone to India, or perhaps if I did not interact frequently with people of Indian descent, I would have been fearful of traveling to India after reading her report. I would've looked at the blurred-out anonymous Indian man in the background of Michaela's picture and shuddered.

So I offer my own account, one where Michaela's conclusion of "India [as] an extremely unsafe place for women" was not one that I or the other women I was with had reason to believe.

There are places that can be situationally dangerous for women (and every other subculture or subgroup of humans) everywhere in this world. In India, in the US, in every country. The danger posed is brought on by ignorance and inhumanity and hate that are not limited to one place or one group of people. As Michaela's article reaches an increasingly wide audience, I implore its readers to remember that it is one woman's report, one that focuses exclusively on the negative experiences that she had. Do not judge the whole nation, its culture and its people by her account alone.