Two years ago today, I was a fresh and utterly overwhelmed face sitting in a product training course at the LogRhythm headquarters. I didn’t know what I was getting into or if it would really be a good fit for me, but I had been handed an opportunity at a successful and growing company, so there I was.
The job turned out to be an excellent fit and for quite some time now, I’ve felt like I’ve had my next three to seven years mapped out professionally. This is a big statement coming from me, given that my record for full time employment with a single company is only two years and eleven months. Continue reading →
Now that I’m dating again, I’ve had to use my standard “I had a great time talking to you, but I don’t feel the connection I’m looking for” rejection line on several men. I know it’s cliche to say, but it hurts me as much as it hurts them. Telling someone to his face that you aren’t interested in a second date, especially when he clearly is, is awkward and uncomfortable. But it’s the right thing to do. Ghosting is weak-minded and I don’t like getting text after text from a guy who is interested in me when I don’t feel the same. Delaying the inevitable “I don’t feel that way about you” message is unfair. We’ve all been at the other end of unreturned text messages, our rational brains telling us the guy isn’t interested and we should move on, but our passionate hearts needing to hear it from him explicitly before we can accept it. That verbal confirmation rarely comes.
The conversation gets harder, but even more important, when you’ve been on more than one or two dates and you’ve had a strong, mutual connection. And guys are totally incompetent at having this talk. (Disclaimer: Girls probably suck at this too, but I can only speak from my experience.) Even the ones who seem emotionally honest for so long, at the end prove themselves incapable of sitting down with someone they’ve shared months or years of intimacy and laughter and memory making with to have a decent, respectful conversation about ending their relationship.
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The novel is no more. If the possible reason that first comes to your mind is that my co-author is no more either, you are correct. I ended my relationship with Ironman a little while back and with it, the collaboration on our novel. When we first starting seeing each other casually last May, I thought we would always be friends and able to collaborate on projects even if we ended our romance. But the bizarre way he admittedly led me on for months, knowing that he no longer felt the way I felt about him, and then the way he instantaneously turned into a callous and cruel person without a single indication that anything was wrong even as we were making future plans together that very morning, now makes that impossible. Continue reading →
Young Roger came tapping at Dolly’s window,
Thumpaty, thumpaty, thump!
He asked for admittance; she answered him “No!”
Frumpaty, frumpaty, frump!
“No, no, Roger, no! as you came you may go!”
Stumpaty, stumpaty, stump!
Now this is more like it. I don’t know what the relationship between Roger and Dolly is or was, but you can bet she won’t be letting him take her anywhere in a wheelbarrow or plastering his head with brown paper and then getting in trouble for it. You go, Dolly! Continue reading →
Up hill and down dale,
Butter is made in every vale;
And if Nancy Cook
Is a good girl,
She shall have a spouse,
And make butter anon,
Before her old grandmother
Grows a young man.
If Nancy is a good girl, she’ll have a spouse. Oh Nancy, be bad. Be very, very bad. Or at least be who you are and don’t worry about social pressure to get married. Figure out how to differentiate your butter from everyone else’s, start a small business selling your artisanal butter, and support yourself without having to worry about a husband. Continue reading →
Peter, Peter, pumpkin-eater,
Had a wife and couldn’t keep her;
He put her in a pumpkin shell,
And there he kept her very well.
So…I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to think that if he couldn’t keep her and had to lock her away in a pumpkin shell, there is something terribly wrong with this relationship. Let’s just say it – this is kidnapping! How on earth can this be one of the most common Mother Goose rhymes? It’s cute, I suppose, to see a little woman living inside a pumpkin—I mean, I loved the story of Thumbelina when I was little—but it seems clear that this woman wants out of this relationship. The lack of punishment or any sort of negative consequences for this outrageous and illegal behavior is disturbing. Continue reading →
As I was going to St. Ives,
I met a man with seven wives,
Every wife had seven sacks,
Every sack had seven cats,
Every cat had seven kits.
Kits, cats, sacks, and wives,
How many were there going to St. Ives?
Once again, Mother Goose’s neutral treatment of a morally reprehensible practice, in this case polygamy, is disturbing. To her, an encounter with a Lothario merits only an arithmetic challenge, rather than a discussion about his sexist behavior. And let’s not forget that each of these anonymous women is schlepping a sack with 56 hapless animals stuffed into it. Disgusting.
Verdict: Let loose those 343 kittens so they can shred this rhyme with their adorable little claws. Continue reading →
I am now in my 40th ride around the sun. Technically my birthday was a few days ago, but I’m in the middle of the A to Z blog challenge, and didn’t want to bombard my readers with two posts in one day, so I’m posting on a challenge day off. I spent my birthday weekend indulging in a stay in the Lumber Baron Inn and doing all the things in Denver I never do anymore, since Boulder has me firmly in its gentle grasp.
I’m feeling fantastic in this, the last year of my thirties. Last year was everything I could have wanted, and I have no reason to believe that this year won’t be every bit as wonderful. To celebrate, I’d like to highlight what made my last year so enjoyable.
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As we lower onto the December-cold pleather seats of the minivan, we knock hands: both of us reaching to turn on the other’s seat warmer first.
Last weekend, I spent three perfect days in Telluride for a close friend’s wedding at Schmid Ranch near Mount Wilson. The golden aspens stretching up to the wild and unpredictable sky, snow covered mountains surrounding the valley the ranch was nestled into, a dozen of my beautiful friends in attendance all so excited for the bride, and my handsome date, a wonderful man I’ve been lucky enough to have in my life for four months now.
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