Saturday, March 14, 2015

Public service announcement for dudely dudes in a dudely field

Do you remember this post? Where I basically said that anything you put on the internet can come back to haunt you?

Maybe some of you have misunderstood.

Let me be blunt: I'm not talking about a woman who sexts her boyfriend only to find the picture disseminated. If the roles were reveresed, he would not face a bucketload of harassment or diminished job prospects. She's not doing something malicious or unkind.

No, I am talking about guys who harass women on Twitter by sending rape threats. (See: what happened with Curt Schilling's 17-year-old daughter. Though I am frankly side-eyeing his assertion that you can't understand this if you're a man unless you have a daughter. Dude, I am a woman and have no sons and I figured out a long time ago that men and boys are human. If you can't figure out that girls and women are human beings unless you have one of your own, I don't even know what to say to you. Also side-eyeing the idea that it's internet anonymity behind this, since men have said stuff like that to me face-to-face, and people Tweet stuff like this under their own names all the time.)

I am talking about recruiters who send women who have publicly talked about sexual harassment weird emails, basically rationalizing the harassment. How gross do you have to be? This jacknape apparently thought that he'd somehow upset her into being his buddy? You are a recruiter. You work with people. If you can't figure out that this is unprofessional and frankly creepy, you need to get into another line of work. One that is preferably done in a cave on the moon.

(Also, what he said was monumentally obtuse. I work with men in my field and they manage to not talk about how they want to grope me. Weird, I know.)

Guess what? The internet is forever.

Yes, your target may not have the power to do too much to you right now. Not everyone has Curt Schilling for a father or a large Twitter following. And it wasn't until last year--thanks to this trainwreck of a harassment campaign that disguised itself as a movement (a ridiculous movement)--that online harassment of women was even acknowledged, let alone acknowledged as a problem. (I used to run a political blog and I promise you, this has been a thing for years.)

Your target may not have a lot of power. But your target can and just might make your email public. Your target might point her friends to your threatening Tweets or Facebook posts and those friends might take screenshots. Your target might figure out where you work, or who your wife is, and clue them in about how you've been spending your time. The police don't take online threats or harassment that seriously (yet) but other people do and you will get blowback.

In short, this is going to come back to bite you. And I will not feel at all sorry for someone who loses their job, finds the need to couch surf while his wife decides if she wants to stay married to a threatening creeper, or has to explain themselves to people in the future.

You know why? Because I and other women have had to deal with the business end of harassment for all of our lives. And it's not okay.

Thursday, March 12, 2015

My life is an example of irony.

"The views are spectacular. If you live on Hoth."
So you know my story if you follow my blog.

I sold my place a couple of years ago and moved closer to where I had worked, which was far away from the city. I hadn't worked in the city for years--my previous jobs were in the burbs and they required sitting in traffic to get to. I figured, I liked where I worked. They seemed to like me. So I bought a house here. And got laid off a few weeks after.

And now I'm commuting two hgours each way into the city. (YES FEEL FREE TO USE ME AS AN EXAMPLE THE NEXT SOME SOME AFFLUENT JACKNAPE STARTS BLEATING THAT WE SHOULD ALL LIVE CLOSER TO WORK I MEAN SERIOUSLY SHUT UP.)

That's actually fine because I'm working (applied for and got a higher-level job working for the same person and in the same group, actually). Mortgage is getting paid. I live near the beach. Life's good. It has a long commute but I'll live.

Then the snowpocalypse happened. In case you want to snark about crybaby New Englanders, I'll just point out that we got 100 inches of snow in under three weeks. We got blizzards and severe storms every 2-3 days. People's roofs were starting to collapse. Our public transportation system shut down (and isn't entirely operational even now) thanks to the snow. People who were paid by the hour, who didn't get paid if they didn't work, are now in a precarious situation thanks to the fact that public transport is toast and they couldn't get to work.

It has been, quite frankly, awful, and I haven't had the patience or the wherewithal to be even remotely nice or positive. I am all out of patience.

However, there has been one weird bright spot, which is this: My commuter bus has been consistently able to get me to work on days there have not been storms. (My workplace closed during storms and sometimes the day after so crews could clear away the snow.) People who take the train have been out of luck, which I think is just weird. If I stayed in my old place, which was walking distance to the train, I would not have been able to make it in by using the commuter train. There hasn't been one running since the first storm, apparently. People are either driving in or driving to a different train station.

Where I currently am? I was able to get in. Granted, it was a little later than usual thanks to so many people driving as a result of dysfunctional public transport. However, I got in. On time. And I got in this week. EARLY.

I've been joking with my coworkers that they need to move to my town.

Monday, November 24, 2014

What goes on the internet can haunt you


I have seen people post--on their own accounts, with their pictures and real names attached--some really vile stuff. I'm not talking about opinions I don't agree with. I'm talking about slurs, harassment, and threats. I'm talking about behavior that, if you saw someone engage in it in meatspace, you'd be creeped out and possibly reaching for the phone. There have been several instances that I know about--a couple at least that have made the news--of an online horde targeting and harassing people they didn't like.

This isn't an issue with anonymity, since I've known people who acted this way in meatspace. Many of these people have their pictures and their real names, and identifying information attachedd to these accounts.

It's you people I'm talking to now, the ones who rage post, who troll, who harass online, who think you can do this with impunity: You may want to stop that. Google is a thing.

No one wants to hire or work with someone who could be dangerous or nasty in the office. They want someone who will work well with others. They want someone who will respect privacy and confidentiality (especially in certain occupations and organizations). They want someone who will not be a litigation risk.

And you know? I can't think of too many people who want to hang out with someone who's capable of that kind of behavior. Yes, I've run into a lot of idiots who will insist that their friend really is a nice guy underneath it all, but when all that nice guy shows you is an abusive bully, well, you can't be blamed for not wanting to stick around and get to know him better.

So if someone does or says something you don't like, you can express why you didn't like it. But if you start threatening them or hassling them, you're not going to stand out as a desirable employee (or as a desirable friend, honestly). If you start posting slurs in response to what they said, you're not going to be the number one candidate for the job; just the circular file. No one is hacking into your private accounts to see this stuff. When I look on Facebook at say, a movie fan page, and I see some guy saying that a certain actress is a dumb #$&* for uploading private pictures to the cloud, and uses a bunch of other choice words to describe her and other people who disagree with him, I tend to think he's a scumbag. (And rather stupid, since your email can also get hacked and disseminated.) If I am on Twitter and I see someone responding abusively to another person's Tweet, I'm not going to form a good impression of them. I'm going to think they are vile people. I am going to be reluctant to work with them or associate with them in any way.

Yes, it's not fair. But you have got to face the fact that the way you act will affect how people view you. Yes, you should act like a decent human being. That doesn't entitle you to anything but a fair shot at anything (be it a job, a relationship, or anything else). But it's the basic starting point for civilized behavior.

Don't act that way? Don't be surprised if you get a lot of cold shoulders.

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

I got a little over enthusiastic with the canning

I went apple picking last month, and got um, ambitious with it. Got a huge bag (they break easily, by the way), had grand plans to can it all.

And I did, pretty much, but I forgot that it would take a lot of time that I didn't quite have. Still, it was worth it.

The first thing I made were apple preserves. Once the apples were peeled, cored, and sliced it was a cakewalk. Honestly, it's all the peeling, coring, and slicing that does me in. I'm all enthusiastic to begin with. I put on Welcome to Night Vale and listen to the fake radio show about black helicopters and tentacle monsters and silent hooded figures and the Sheriff's Secret Police. (Don't judge me.) It's all good. And then. . .and then, somewhere around apple number six I get all OKAY THIS IS ENOUGH WHAT WAS I THINKING TIME TO STOP.

And then I realize that no, I have to see it through because I am really looking forward to eating this stuff.

Then, before I start the apples in the saucepan, I realize I have yet to soften the STUPID lids and I have to do that and make sure the STUPID water doesn't boil. At this point, I don't care if Welcome to Night Vale is telling me that the Sheriff's Secret Police is headed to my house. In fact, I'd be all WELL SECRET POLICE YOU'D BETTER GET YOUR BUTT IN HERE AND HELP ME OUT OR I WILL FEED YOU TO MY SURLY CAT* I SWEAR I AM IN NO MOOD.

I was able to get them done, though. I made a double batch and got 12 half pints made.

The butter was easy. I'm going to do more, in fact. I made it in the slow cooker. Then I canned it. And yes, the house smelled amazing. The slow cooker was filled to almost overflowing and the apples cooked down to half. If you do it this way, I suggest leaving the lid tilted askew a bit, to let the steam out, and maybe for the last hour or two cooking the butter with the lid off. I got about seven half pints out of it.

I love this stuff. It's good on bread and scones, I put it in my oatmeal, I will sometimes eat it right out of the jar. I brought this and the preserves and some bread to work and they were a big hit.

The pears should have been easy. They were from a friend who has a pear tree that has been going hog wild. I figured, yes, I'd somehow can these (as well as eat them). I found a recipe for tarragon pears, and I had to make it. I have tarragon in the garden. I had pears. This was a match made in heaven. Unfortunately, I got really tired and surly. But I pushed through because BOOTSTRAPS. Or because I already had everything set up and what the heck, these savory pears would be wonderful with a meal. So I managed, even though peeling pears rates right up there with say, trimming my cat's claws, driving in Boston, or having a work meeting at 4:30 in the afternoon.

It was worth it, once it was done. They were all worth it. It's not like I can things and then think, "Sheesh, I wish I never did that."

*She's tiny and geriatric but she can be fierce. She will throw down.




Monday, November 17, 2014

Where your fearless blogger learns the hard way that housecleaning is a man's job

My face after the incident in question. Saltier language, though.
Right, so you know how I was sure I was going to have this super awesome system and keep the trainwreck fairy at bay? Yeah, looking back at that I was adorable in my naivete. That fell apart this summer, and I paid the price for it in a spectacular and mortifying way.

I was cleaning my kitchen--which I had to do quickly, as people were coming over that night, and thoroughly, as it was um, diplomatically speaking, something that could spawn a virus that starts the zombie apocalypse. So I was moving very, very fast. Pulling out chairs, sweeping the floor under the table. Walking into another room to get something. Walking back very fast with a destination in mind, shoulders back, looking straight ahead and OH GOT NOT WHERE MY FEET WERE GOING WHICH WAS RIGHT INTO THE [I CANNOT EVEN FAKE THIS CURSE WORD] [BLASPHEMY] CHAIR HOLY [GENTLE CARESS] THAT [GENTLY CARESSING] HURT [BLASPHEMY GENTLE CARESS BLASPHEMY].

Okay, I figured, I banged my fourth toe pretty hard, I will rub it and that will make the toe fairy come out and--well, it will feel better. Or I'll get some ice. And I'll take some Advil. And I'll wear shoes in the house and fake it during dinner.

I couldn't miss work the next day (I had a deadline) so I went and by noon I informed my boss that I had to go to the doctor tomorrow because I thought I might have broken my toe housecleaning.

Yes, he laughed and asked me how I managed it and I told him that we all have our talents. Injuring myself in ridiculous ways is mine.

Went to the doctor, got an xray, and confirmed, the middle joint of the toe was broken. "But I want you to see an orthopedist this week because the break in in a weird place."

So at the end of the week, I went to the orthopedist, who said (AFTER A TWO HOUR WAIT WHERE I GOT VERY VERY HULKSMASH HANGRY BECAUSE WHY NOT JUST SCHEDULE THE APPOINTMENT FOR THE HOUR BEFORE LUNCH AND THEN NOT SHOW UP THAT IS A GREAT CHOICE YES THANK YOU) "Yeah, it's broken. Tape it. Maybe come in for another set of xrays."

To which I said, "Um, how about I not do that?"

To which he said, "Yeah, you don't have to do it unless it still hurts in a month."

Great.

The toe is healed up now, though I did get to wear clunky shoes to work and rock my inner Church Lady. (Yes, I am aware that I just dated myself. Cope.) I tried to put work shoes on every so often and my toe was all OH HELL NO WHAT ARE YOU THINKING KEEP THIS UP CHICKIE AND YOU WILL GET NO REST I WILL KEEP YOU AWAKE FOR THE NEXT WEEK GET THE OLD LADY ORTHO SHOES ON AND SUCK IT UP.

I can wear regular shoes now. My toe is still slightly swollen but I can bend it and walk on it and it's fine.

But I have learned my lesson. Housecleaning is for manly men, not delicate flowers like me.


Friday, November 14, 2014

I'll bring you some summer at the end of the fall

Mainly because holy hells I am to tired to write full sentences right now.


These are my garden beds. There are four of 'em--that's right, four of them. I planted tomatoes (roma, early girl, and grape), mallabar spinach, eggplant, carrots, rooted parsley, beets, chard, summer squash, zucchini, butternut squash, beans, nasturtiums, an assortment of herbs, hot peppers, a couple of sweet peppers and cucumbers. . .and I think that was it? I've eaten most of them. I cooked and froze the tomatoes (I didn't get enough in at once to make canning worthwhile) and froze the rest whole (which is handy). The carrots have done well, which shocked me for some reason. The squash (winter and summer) was a big old fail, as were the cukes. And I had weeds, lots of purslane, but it's edible so I decided to act like I meant to grow it. 

I paid a carpenter friend to make the beds (I got the smaller wooden planters from a nearby hardware store). He lined the top with mahogany (I have to apply some oil to it this weekend, come to think of it). I have the Rolls Royce of garden beds. I think these beds are worth more than my house.

Last month I planted garlic, kale and arugula seedlings, and spinach seeds (which are doing okay as it's still unnaturally warm out). I still have some carrots left but they will be gone this weekend as they are delicious. I planted walking onions right next to the house and they are annexing the rest of the yard. (Well, not quite, but they did quite well.) 

Oh! I also planted sunflowers. Here's one of them when it was warm and sunny and it was tall and healthy. 


The bees seemed to like them.


Monday, June 9, 2014

Well! I have been busy.

Seriously, I have not meant to leave this blog fallow for so long. I keep doing this and then making promises that I'll be back and I kind of feel foolish at this point.

My days have been long. I'm not complaining--heck, I have days, and they are spent with me at a job. But they are long and I haven't had it in me to write anything, though lord knows I keep thinking of things to write about. So I'm going to make the extra effort as I enjoy blogging.

As I have mentioned before, my days start early so I do have to have a system set up. I recently found out what happens when, for whatever reason, I don't stick with that system. Here's the spoiler: Nothing good.

First, if I'm up later than planned, I'm groggy and cranky and not at my best the next day. I forget my lunch and/or breakfast. I work later than usual because I don't work as quickly, which means I get home later, which means I get to sleep later. . .you see where this is going, right?

And if my weekends are busy, my lunches and breakfasts don't get made. Which is not a good thing--then I end up spending money on meals that I don't even like that much, so I find myself broke and unsatisfied that week.

I've mainly been doing well, but sometimes I do slip up. Or things just get very busy. So I'm trying to now make a lot of food (more than usual) on a free weekend and freeze it. And I'm trying to get my laundry done more quickly, and some of it done during the week (though since I'm in bed not that much longer after I get home, it tends to be a weekend chore).

However, enough about that. I have things to talk about this week. My commute and the glorious bus. (Not being sarcastic there, actually.) My garden beds and what I've planted. My new neighbors. My neighbors' dogs. My life is exciting! HA.