For a WOMAN...

News Flash...

I'm kind of tired of gender. Like SUPER TIRED.   I'm probably even more tired of men telling me that I need to stick up for my gender...like I can't do that without being told to do that, but to be fair, I'm tired of EVERYONE AND ANYONE telling me what I should think.  I'm tired of awards that are specific to my gender. I'm tired of anything that forces people to choose me or care about my existence because of my gender. I'm generally tired of anything that focuses on my genetics as a reason for anything good or bad.  I cannot control my genetics anymore than anyone else. True story.

I don't want your stupid Women doing <insert pretty much anything here> award...

Lately, there have been all these Women in tech awards things that work is trying to get me nominated for. And every time I say NO.  I don't want an award for being a female. I want an award because I'm freaking awesome. And if I'm only competing against part of the competitor pool, then it's a waste of my time and basically like saying to me that I'm still not good enough to compete for real.  That is how I view it. You all can tell me how not a feminist I am or whatever it is that you want to think, but anyone who knows me knows that I think for myself. And in my mind, equal is not equal if stuff is still separate. Equal is not equal if any group is singled out. Also, if you have to encourage a specific group to do something, isn't it kind of like saying they are too weak to encourage themselves?  Like I don't encourage my boys to do anything in particular. There are too many things. I just say, do what you want and don't suck at it. And don't be a jerk to other people unless they are jerks.  It's a blanket statement that applies to everything.  No one encouraged me to do computer science. No one discouraged me from doing it. I like computers, so that's what I did. Let's encourage that.

Where does this radical thinking come from, you ask?
When I was in grammar school, we used to play kickball on the playground at recess. You know, back in a time when kids still had recess and weren't encouraged to be blobs. One of the main badges of honor was the ability to kick the ball hard enough, far enough, and high enough that it would land on the roof of the garage that was out in left-center "field". (I put "field" in quotes because it was a blacktop playground, so field is a stretch of the word).  If you could kick to the roof, you were a kickball beast and usually got picked pretty early in the team selection process. When I was 10, I didn't care about being the first, last, only, whatever girl who could kick it onto the roof. ALL I CARED ABOUT WAS BEING PICKED FIRST FOR A TEAM. So, you know what I did? I kicked the shit out of the ball. At some point, I was able to kick it onto the roof. And then I got picked first. Not because I was a girl but because I could kick that stupid ball really effing hard. Oh, I was also really good at catching it and getting people out. Sometimes, the boys would tease each other about picking a girl, because kids are stupid. But you what beats stupid? Winning.  So I was picked first. And everyone shut their pie holes because it was even more embarrassing to make fun of other people who were beating your ass at kickball.

Have there been times that I didn't get picked because I was female? Probably. Just like there have probably been times some of you have not been picked for being male, or short, or heavy, or small, or, yup, a different color. Does it suck? Sure.  Heck, I was told by the JV softball coach at the end of Sophmore year that I wasn't on varsity that year because I wasn't serious enough and told too many jokes. WTF is that? Not because I didn't have the skill or ability, but because Coach M didn't think I was funny.  One of my first consulting gigs, everyone thought I was like 12 and I had to prove that I wasn't an idiot. And you know what? It felt way better to show that I was good at stuff then to be there because they HAD to pick me or were in some way obligated to have me there. 

There have also probably been times that I've been picked because I knew someone, had a friend or showed up when no one else did. I got one consulting gig based on phone interview due to being the most enthusiastic sounding choice. I was by far not the most skilled at writing stupid boring SQL queries. I just seemed the most excited for the job.  And, yes, there have probably been times that I've gotten an opportunity because of my gender, since there weren't a lot of girls in computer science. As a white, American female, I would have been a minority in the field, especially when I was doing QA testing. The only way to fight against any of it is to be great at something. When you are great at something it makes you hard to ignore. And maybe make people laugh. That also seems to work.

So, what caused this sudden and aggressive outburst?

Dr. Who. True story.  Like everyone  is making a huge deal out of this female Dr. Who. I haven't seen it yet. I'm sure she's great and I'm looking forward to seeing how they do with the new show runner and new Dr. Who. Just like I am every time they switch Dr. Whos. It's always interesting. And since last season was a waste of my life, I'm hoping things have improved. I could care less that it's a woman, other then I'm super annoyed at how they are making it out to be this wonderful progressive thing.

Issue #1: It's not progressive to do something that is currently trendy.  If they had cast a woman Dr. Who after David Tenant or Matt Smith, that would have been fairly progressive.  Actually, it would have made WAY more sense after David Tennant since the Rose/Dr. Who story had been so emotional and it would have been a great change of pace. It would have also been interesting between Matt Smith and Peter Capaldi because River Song was still around and I bet she would have been BEAST with a female Dr. Who. It certainly would have been less awkward then watching Clara deal with the fact that her adorbs young doctor was now an old man. Peter Capaldi's Doctor Who didn't get really great until his second season (through no fault of his own. The writing was just meh for a lot of his run). I actually think it would have been more interesting to have a Doctor Who from another country other then England or Scotland. But I digress...

Issue #2: River Song, Amy Pond, Me, Clara, Missy (a.k.a. The Master), Madame Vastra and Jenny, Rose...those are just some of the super awesome and pivotal female roles that have been the heart of Doctor Who since it's reboot.  If not for Rose, the reboot might have failed. If not for Amy Pond (and Rory to be fair), we might never have been able to accept Matt Smith as the Doctor. Without Madame Vastra and Jenny, we would not have STRAX...ok, I mean, interesting characters for mystery solving. Without Clara, the fabric of reality would have been ripped apart. Without the great Me story arc, Doctor Who could not have learned just how far reaching his actions can be. And without River Song, we would not have enjoyment in our lives because she is by far one of the greatest Doctor Who characters of all time.  Like I loved David Tennent as Doctor Who, but I LOVED Alexis Kingston as River Song.  The fact is, it's always been the companions that have made Doctor Who what it is because at some level, Doctor Who is always the same. It's the companions that are truely different. So by making the fact that a female is cast as Doctor Who be the center of all things, I believe we do a HUGE disservice to all of the female characters that have actually carried the show. That's my opinion.

Issue #3: Three companions. Not since kind of early in the original series has a Doctor Who started out with 3 companions.  It's always 1, maybe 2.  Other folks will visit from time to time so that a single episode or couple of episodes will have more then 2 companions, but not in a very long time has the Doctor started out with 3 companions. So, what does that say? It says to me that, though they took a "risk" by making Doctor Who female, they are not confident enough to maintain the same format. She's a girl so she needs more companions, I guess...

My frustration with the hypocrisy of it all acted as a catalyst for me to say something. Oh and being stuck on a really long drive in the car.

Okay, okay, I'm wrapping it up...
This is the lesson I've carried throughout life: Be good at things. Do things.  Keep doing things. Do what you want to do. Don't depend on others to do it for you. Stop listening to what other people tell you what you can or cannot do.  Turns out, it doesn't matter what other people think, because the key to actually being successful at anything is the internal belief that you can do it. And the only people that will really be able to help you believe in yourself is YOU and people you trust. Not random people on tv. Or politicians. Or the news. And if something unfair happens, dust yourself off and move on. Because life will never be fair when fairness is a moving target that changes every 5 minutes.  It's an impossible goal and only sets us all up for failure. Step outside the box and refuse to let anyone else force you back into it.  That's how I see it. Feel free to disagree. I'll probably ignore you anyway :P

I'm a Dog!

11 years, 2 months, and 13 days, I had a dog. Her name was Dakota.  

On Friday, July 20, 2007, I came home from work and met a puppy. She was just there in the driveway and ran up to me when I got out of my car. That’s how I met Dakota. My neighbor asked if I wanted her, I said yes, and that was it. I had a dog.

I was living in Asbury Park when Dakota got me.  Every night we’d go for these long walks around town, up to the boardwalk and all over the place.  Every time we saw a person, she would want to go over and sit on their feet until they pet her. It was her thing even on her last day when she met two new people at the office.  Walk over, sit on your feet, get petted. By doing this, EVERYONE knew her. Actually, I believe at one point, she was dubbed “Mayor Dakota” by someone. I was just “Dakota’s mom”. I had been living in Asbury for a few years but didn’t really know anyone.  I’m not a super social person in general and certainly not a “go out and make random friends” type.  Walking Dakota helped me meet all sorts of people and make new friends using her Dakota magic. Being Dakota’s mom is one of the best things I’ve ever been.

One of my favorite memories is that my brother was walking Dakota for me one day and the Asbury Park police officers who were patrolling the board walk that day called me up to say “Are you aware that some man is walking your dog?”. Er, yes, officers.  That’s my brother. Stand down.  I’m not sure if they actually stopped him until I confirmed, but I still thought it was hilarious and also, that’s how much everyone knew Dakota and cared about her.

I’d had Dakota about a year when my Aunt Laura’s health started to decline.  I had quit my job as a consultant and taken up part-time work so that I could spend more time with her. 3-4 times a week, I would drive the 40 minutes up to Westfield with Dakota to visit Aunt Laura and every time, Laura would say “Oh that’s a cute dog, but I can’t take care of a dog right now.” (She was a bit forgetful at that point, being 90 years old and having a bit of dementia). I’d reassure her that the dog was mine and she wouldn’t have to take care of it. Then she’d sit and pet Dakota. I don’t know why but that memory always makes me smile.

As far as random dogs that show up on your doorstep go (or any other dog acquired in any other way), Dakota was pretty much the greatest dog ever.  She was just a good dog. She learned her name right away, listened, potty trained in like a week, sat, came when you called or whistled, walked next to you without a leash, backed up when you said “back it up”. And she learned with ease. She was like a magical first dog that has probably ruined me for all other dogs. I love Queso, but that dog is STUBBORN. Dakota was just…Dakota.

There are so many memories. So many things that I don’t want to forget:

-       Karl saying how when she walks, it like she’s happily exclaiming “I’m a dog!” with each step.

-       Her happy rolling in the grass.

-       Karl and I getting lost on a hike with her and how after 10 miles, me and him were desperate to find the car but Dakota was the happiest ever because walking in the woods and sniffing things was her favorite.

-       How when she was little, she would just stop walking when she got tired and lay down like “yup, I’m done. Good luck to you.” I’d have to pick her up and put her in my bag to carry her the rest of the way home.

-       How she didn’t like to swim so when I threw the ball into the ocean, she would wait for the waves to bring it back and then get it when it was in shallow water.

-       How she would always sit with me when I was sick.

-       How she thought she was a cat and would sit on the back cushion of the couch until she got so big, she would just squish it all the way down.

-       How she would be so happy to see me, she would wag her butt in a U and hit herself in the face with her own tail.

-       How when we’d hike, she’d only go as far away from me as she could still see me. She ALWAYS had to have eyes on me.

-       How she would follow me from room to room.

-       How she would self-pet by walking back and forth under your hand.

-       How she would hit me with her toy when she wanted to play.

-       The time she got into the UPS guys truck like that’s normal.

-       How she loved EVERYONE, including whoever broke in and stole my tv when I first moved to Indianapolis (I found her sitting on the couch, chewing on a stick).

-       How she’s sit on the porch and bark once every so often to remind us that we’d let her out and forgotten to let her back in. And if we still didn’t let her in, she would run around to the back deck French doors and stare at us through the glass. Seriously, she was smarter then any of us.

-       Morpheus used to follow her around and smack her when she was a puppy. Like “I’m the boss. Don’t forget it. Ever” She learned, too, because she always let the cats boss her around.

-       How much she loved Brian and the minions. Each time one of the boys would start to pet her, she would do this sort of slow drop and roll over so they could pet her belly. Also, she would sit outside their bedroom door waiting for them to come out whenever they were staying with us. She loved those boys so much.

-       How when I’d say “go to Brian” she would go to wherever Brian was.

-       How she would walk back and forth against your legs like a cat.

-       How Neo had to run up and rub all up on her the minute she came into the house and she’d just sit there with a long-suffering, tolerant look on her face. Because in our house, the cats and dogs don’t realize that they are different from each other.

-       Her ninja puppy crawl

-       Teaching her how to drink from water fountains.

-       Is it a squirrel or is it a murderer? She’ll bark at either.

-       Her near religious hatred of rabbits.

-       Her constant desire to catch a chipmunk.

It’s brutal. There is not a thing on this earth that will love you as much or as unconditionally as a dog will love you. Not a person, not any other kind of pet. Nothing. There was nothing that I could do wrong in the eyes of that dog and no matter what, every time she saw me, it was the happiest moment of her life. And no matter what, whenever I saw her, everything was better. What do I do without that?

The cancer came on so fast. It’s like one day she’s jumping around like a puppy and then she’s sort of not eating and then she’s not eating but we think she’s allergic to something but, no, it’s lymphoma and her spleen and liver are affected and there’s bruising on her belly because of the cancer and she’s barely got any energy and can’t keep food down and she won’t walk around the pond which is her favorite and you have to sign the horrible papers that say you understand what it means to euthanize your pet. Because there is no drug, no surgery, no amount of money that can make it better. The only choices are to sign those papers or watch this family member that you love so much suffer because it’s too hard to let her go. So, you sign the papers and see your husband cry for the first time in the 9 years that you’ve known him. I hate those papers. I hate them so much.

On Wednesday, October 3, 2018, I brought Dakota to the vet for the final time. And that was it. 

11 years, 2 months, and 13 days, I had a dog. Her name was Dakota.