So..Your Parents Let You Get a Degree in French Literature?

I get asked this question, or variations of it often--usually by guys with degrees in engineering.* I've considered responses like "yes, and as you can see I'm employed in spite of this" and "well if everyone got a degree in engineering then the skill set would be less valued."

Lately I've considered changing my default response to "Not everyone is a Quant--the world needs Verbals too."

Now that I am back in grad school I can very easily see the value of being a literature geek. For example--I just took a class in computer security. A good portion of that class was about math, because it was about probability, and cryptography and cyphers.

It's hard to do math after years out of practice. (See also, my struggles with Statistics last year). It's hard to understand a lecture about math at 8 PM after working all day. I think the professor understood that. I however had no problem with the math involved in basic cryptography** because I've read Neal Stephenson's Cryptonomicon about 17 times. I had no problem at all with the Playfair cypher either--because Lord Peter Wimsey explains it in Dorothy Sayers's Have His Carcase.

Being widely read is helpful, but what is more helpful is the ability to analyse ideas and write about them. This is one thing that a literature degree teaches you to do well. I can no longer write a 40 page paper (or even a 4 page paper) in French, but I can analyse text--whether it's a short story or a business case--and I can explain my analyses in written form. This is useful in graduate school--even if you're getting a degree in IT.




*Yes, always guys. To be fair I've not met that many female engineers.
**Basic math--all about probability and work factor. No prime numbers were factored or harmed in this course.

It's my 15th Anniversary College Reunion This Weekend and I'm Not There

I've been seeing my former classmates post about heading to the Re-U (or being at the Re-U) today and it's weirding me out. Mostly thought it's making me sad.

This is not because I want to be there. I'm pretty sure it's the kind of thing that would Not Work Out For Me (flashback to first night at Carleton with all the new students. Me talking awkwardly with an an incoming Junior in Sayles while the men's track team streaks. Me going back to dorm room to write letters to high school friends soon after.) Some people do well at big gatherings. I am not one of them. I am one of those people who hates weddings. This would just be like a giant wedding party-sans bridal couple.

I'm sad because I remember working over the summer during reunions with some of the people who are there this weekend. I remember one friend of mine ignoring alums smoking pot in the men's room in Sayles* and another having to bust skinny dipping alums in one of the pools (my summer job was security.) One of my friends said "well my boss said that if you see alums shooting up on the stirs of Sayles you should ignore them."

I remember wondering why the fuck respectable adults who could afford hotel rooms would want to come and spend a few nights sleeping in Burton--which was not only un-air-conditioned but the heat was on in the summer.

Paired with this is my remembrance of working Security on Graduation day my junior year and helping to kick all the graduates out on graduation day (and locking up after them) and a year later being kicked out myself. "A diploma is an eviction notice written in Latin." I remember how much leaving Carleton really hurt.

When I went back to visit a few years later I was talking with a friend of mind who settled in the Cities. He was saying how he went back to Carleton to visit often. I asked "Isrn't it weird to go into Sayles Hill and not have a mailbox that's yours?" He answered "I don't go into Sayles much."

Maybe I'm just depressed that me and my friends have become the alums. Maybe I'm sad because I know that going back to a reunion would probably not work for me the way it appears to be working for my facebook friends. Maybe I'm just envious because they'll be drinking Standup Falldowns** and skinny dipping in Boliou fountain while I'm at home doing homework.

But I'll get over it. I'll go to the beach tomorrow. And besides I know another Carl who lives in Beverly who's not at the Re-U this weekend. *thinking back on it thes seems like a profoundly dumb idea--there's plenty of secluded woody spots on Carleton Campus to smoke dope--there's a whole arboretum--why do your illegal activity in the bathroom of the campus center? **Probably (hopefully) not. Standup Falldowns are frozen lemonade with almost enough water and lots of cheap vodka.

Hello Me Not Dead*

I realize I've been pretty silent in 2012. Part of that is because I've been busy with stuff I can't write about here--like work or buying a house--and part of it is I've just been busy.

I took a year off of grad school because work was insane and now I've started a new program. It's an MSIT program on the North shore as opposed to an MBA program in South Boston. I'll be done in about a year and it looks like it will involve less pain and suffering than UMB's program. I'm not sure how that works--less pain and done sooner--I feel like I'm cheating.

I can't believe tomorrow's actually Saturday--I don't have to set an alarm or go to work. Of course, it looks like I have to spend a good portion of the day reading about Sarbanes Oxley (a law I thought I knew pretty well--turns out it's not all about e-mail compliance) but that's okay--it beats reading about Statistics. So far there's been no group work in this program. This means I don't have to wait on anyone else to hand work in and I don't have to watch anyone arguing with anyone else.

Last night I had dinner with my pack. I drank beer on the porch with Ellen and Peter. Mike cooked stir fried Yum! with fiddleheads. We came up with another of Cantabridgienne's laws (don't sext anyone who's not in your phonebook) and talked about cars. I laughed deeply for the first time in at least two weeks ("I thought someone was skinning a womprat in here--but then I realized that it's just Cantabridgienne's laugh.")

As dumb as it sounds, I got to watch people actually seeing each other and listening to each other (and to me) instead of watching people who just broadcast but don't receive (which has been my experience of humanity this Spring.)

It made a nice change from coming home from work, whimpering and moaning to myself while watching Dollhouse until bedtime. (Mind you, I'm grateful for Dollhouse--it's nice to have a world you can slide into whe you need to recover from reality.)



*from Spamusement

Shades of Grey

A friend recommended the Shades of Grey novels to me. She said that she could not put them down. She also said that after buying the first book,she sent her husband out to get the second book in the series a day later and the bookstore she sent him to had run out of the first book.
I could use a page turner, so when I was in Target a few days after the recommendation I went looking for the books (Yes, I know--God kills a kitten every time I buy a book from a big box store.) They were sold out of volume I. I ran into another woman looking for the book. "Maybe I'll just buy it for my iPad." I said. "That's a good idea--that way way no one will know what you're reading." she replied.
It was clear to me that this was trashy romance fiction. But, y'know what? My life is Difficult--work is busy and I'm going to school. I told myself that it was okay to read a silly popular romance--I might even enjoy it*.
I did not enjoy the book. Spoiler alert here--for those of you who don't know Shades of Grey (the first book) is about woman named Ana who at the age of 21 (just as she's about to graduate from college) meets a man named Christian who's a successful CEO about 7 years older than her and who she finds adorable. He thinks she's hot too. The catch? He's "50 shades of fucked up" so he doesn't have normal relationships with women--he has BDSM relationships with women involving NDAs (Non Disclosure Agreements) and contracts between a Dominant (him) and a Submissive(the girl in question.)
The book disturbed me. I was not disturbed by the fact that the male protagonist likes to tie the female protagonist up (and maybe spank her or hit her with a riding crop) before he fucks her--what disturbed me was that 1) the heroine's experience reads like that of a woman in an abusive relationship 2) this is apparently the most popular book with American women since Twilight.
What do I mean when I say that this reads like an abusive relationship? When Ana goes to meet Christian's family, one of her friends mentions that Ana hung out with a guy friend of hers to make Christian jealous. Ana is distressed about this, because Christian's a control freak and she knows he will probably take his anger out on her (he does) but she can say nothing, because she has signed an NDA (and she wouldn't anyways--because she adores Christian.) This is why the popularity of the series disturbs me.
I suppose part of the appeal is that the successful-and-hot-but-fucked-up guy who "doesn't do the boyfriend thing" considers Ana special and dangles the idea that he might be willing to consider her more than his submissive toy in front of her. Some of the appeal might be that for the first novel they mostly have sex in various ways. They then proceed to discuss things they don't talk about in person over e-mail.
When Christian spanks Ana for punishment the first time he is surprised that she doesn't cry. After an e-mail exchange he comes back to see here and s distressed that she is crying--partly because she was crying and he didn't know about it. He says "I take it that when you said you were okay [post spanking], you weren't...Anastasia you can't tell me what you think I want to hear." He then goes on to speak to her more about how she felt about him spanking her. I'm willing to admit that some women might find this attractive. Personally I found this particular scene *terrifying*. To me it looked like Ana was not even allowed to be alone in her head--Christian had to intrude and manage.
When I asked another friend of mine (who also reads romance novels) why this series was so poplar she pointed out that the domineering male protagonist was a staple of romance fiction. That is true, but none of the romance fiction I enjoy includes the rider "He punishes me when no one is looking, but I don't tell anyone because I love him." That is not a quote--it's a distillation. Why is this attractive to american women?

*I can be snobbish about my choices in literature--It's mostly a self-defense mechanism. However, at this point anyone who wants to look down on me for my taste in literature is welcome to come and do my job for a few days and tell me how much they feel like reading Plato's Symposium after all that.

Senna

I don't remember when I first heard of Ayrton Senna, but it must have been sometime in 1998. Maybe I came across his name while reading old Formula 1 magazines on a slow day at the office, or maybe one of my colleagues told me about him.

In 1998 I was in Paris working for ICN, which was a subsidiary of Rothman's. ICN's raison d'être was to promote Rothman's (Winfield) Williams's Formula 1 team. Ayrton Senna died while driving for the Williams team about 5 years before I started working for them.

He was one of the best Formula 1 drivers of the 20th century--he might have been the best if he hadn't died on the track. Perhaps I was curious about him because in 1998 I was working for a team where neither driver (Villeneuve and Frentzen) was a contender for the title (despite the fact that they'd won first and second place the previous year). Michael Schumacher of Ferrari and Mika Hakkinen of McLaren won almost every race that year. Hakkinen struck me as a man with no personality at all and Schumacher had too much--I remember him almost punching David Coulthard in the face after their vehicles crashed into each other. Neither drove for "our" team. So the idea of a man who drove a Williams car and who could have given who could have given Schumi something to chew on if only he hadn't died was tantalizing.

I remember when my boss went on a mad cleaning fit and insisted we throw everything old out. One of my colleagues paused in the act of tossing out a binder of slides. "C'est Senna." she explained. From then on we examined all the slides before tossing them--hoping to relieve the monotony of cleaning by finding something of value. No one else found Senna slides.

A few night's ago I found that Netflix was suggestiong that I watch Senna--a documentary made about Ayrton Senna in 2010. I wondered if I should watch it--after all I wouldn't watch a movie about a Red Sox player from 1993--would I? But I once knew and cared a great deal more about Formula 1 as a sport then I ever have about Baseball. Besides--baseball is rarely fatal Formula 1 was. Senna was one of two who died at the 1994 San Marino Grand Prix and one other was injured. I remember reading Damon Hill describing how he passed by the wrecked car of his team mate Senna right after the accident. How the Hell do you keep driving after that? Michael Schumacher won the race. I always wondered how he felt about that.

Many people complained that the changes made to some of the circuits in Formula to make them more safe made them boring.At the time (1998-99) I was inclined to agree with them. After watching this movie I think differently. The most interesting parts of motor sports are passing and accidents--but accidents shouldn't be fatal. Watching Senna gave me a chance to see the F1 world before they put some of these safety regulations in place.

Watching the movie also helped me remember how much I enjoyed watching the races. And I felt nostalgic seeing the Rothman's Williams Renault uniforms. They changed the uniforms the year I started in F1. The team was now Winfiled Williams and Winfield was a wanna-be Marlboro so the color of the uniforms changed from blue to red. But all in the pictures we had around the office of drivers who'd actually won a race the driver was wearing the old blue and white uniform.

Plants vs Zombies

I was never really into video games as a kid. I suspect I escaped this vice mostly because I had bad hand eye coordination, since I was willing to watch others play Super Mario Brothers or Doom, in order to be social.

But that all changed last month when I bought Plants vs Zombies. I bought an iPad last month and, on the recommendation of one of my friends children, bought Plants vs Zombies. I figured it might be something I could play with my nephews-maybe I'd enjoy screwing around with it myself. As it turned out, I had just purchased an app to make time disappear. I started playing it one night and the next thing I knew it was an hour and a half later-during which time I had not moved. I'm a fidgety person, I stopped going to movies because I can't sit still long enough to enjoy films (certainly not to allow the friends who came its me to enjoy the film). So it was a surprise to me that I had sat still for that long.

This proved to be a reproducible phenomenon- the same thing happened the next night. I started feeling the need to get home from work or from social occasions in order to plant snow pea plants and kill bucket heads. I was glad to have an activity that was so diverting, but I was a little embarrassed to be obsessed by a kids game. I looked Plants vs Zombies up online. Apparently there are versions of it for Windows, Mac, Xbox and Nintendo, as well as iPad and iPhone (one of my colleagues told me about the phone version.)

Over the weekend I let one of my buddies who is regularly into games play Plants vs Zombies. He revised his original statement--" this is just a kids game that's kind of fun." after it kicked his ass a few times. Then he bought a version of the game himself.

I brought the iPad home for Christmas. I downloaded a copy of the book I was reading onto the bookshelf so that I wouldn't have to haul it down to New York-I could just bring this slim device instead. I didn't read any of my books on the train ride home ( this is a first) instead I killed zombies between Boston and New York City.

I was unable to really interest my nephew in the game ( I stopped trying after it gave my niece nightmares) but I played it to relax the whole of my Christmas visit and the whole way back to Boston. I'd gotten to a level where I had to kill an almost indestructible zombie. In stead of just repeatedly getting my brains eaten by zombies I started to think about strategy--I would need a lot of the plants that blew up when planted. Would the freezing mushrooms help? I started experimenting in the quick play part of the game ( you can pick a level and just play it if you've got only a few minutes to kill or if you want to practice killing a particular zombie before having to do it "for real."

I was *practicing*--rehearsing before trying to play a particular zombie. How often do I do that in real life? My gamer guy friends were amazed "I love seeing how obsessed you are by that game." said one. My girl friends laughed at me as I was quietly horrified by the degree of my obsession.

I'm glad to have something that interests me this much--even if it's just a game. What I really wish however was that there was some activity that fascinated me so much that I could take up *professionally.*

Because You Have The Innernet

At brunch this morning my buddy said he wished he could win the lottery so that he could solve his parents money problems and the problems of another mutual friend. I asked him if his parents would take monetary assistance from him and he replied "you've obviously never been poor."

This reminded me of a story from when I was poor. I was working two jobs at the time. It was a Sunday and I was just finishing up a shift at Brookline Booksmith and meeting my former boyfriend for dinner. It was Summer and we had decided to meet on the lawn in front of Cambridge City Hall. This way if one of us got there early we could sit on the nice green grass and read a book (this was pre-iPod) until the other one showed up.

So I was headed into Cambridge from Brookline. For a number of reasons (starting with I like to walk and ending with T service sucks on Sundays) I got off at Hynes Convention Center and walked into Cambridge instead of transferring from the Green Line to the Red Line.

As a result of my decision, I ran into a friend of mine (let's call him Harry.) Harry worked at the Middle East. When Harry came into a lot of money it was well known he'd get drunk, get others drunk and hand money around. I knew that Harry did this because he told me so himself. When I ran into Harry he was clearly well lubricated. He said "Oh Hey Doll--let me give you something because you have the internet at your house. Also--this is for your phone bill because you call Ryan* in California." I did try not to take his money, ("No Harry, thanks I can pay my phone bill.") but he made me feel like I was being rude not to take his cash, so I did.

I went to the green in front of Cambridge City Hall to wait for
the Boyfriend. I told him the whole story--was I wrong to take Harry's money? Could we put it in an envelope and leave it at the Middle East for him to collect when he sobered up?

He replied "I think Harry just bought us dinner because you have the Intranet."

And then we went to the Border Cafe and ordered catfish bites.

*A mutual friend who had moved from Cambridge to California