What I did the weekend of Vesak Holiday in Singapore and What I didn’t do the Weekend of Memorial Day (

What I did the weekend of Vesak Holiday in Singapore (Thursday May 27 - Sunday May 30 2010)

The last Friday in May, in Southeast Asia (and Singapore in particular) is Vesak day and a national holiday. Apparently this is a celebration of the Budda's birthday, which like how the US celebrates holidays, means big sales in Singapore. For me the weekend started Thursday night when a small group of co-workers and non-googler friends and I went to the Swissotel for Happy Hour drinks (or, Sundowner drink specials). The NewAsia bar in the Swissotel has extraordinary views of Singapore. And on the last Thursday of every month, if you can get on the guest list and/or acquire tickets, you can take your drinks up to the helipad after the sun has gone down. Definitely the best views of Singapore. We drank a few bottles of champagne, waiting to go up on the helipad. But it had rained early, and they just weren't letting anyone up because of the rain. So ventured on, first to McD's for some drunk snacking, then to Loof, for rooftop drinks. It was, as the Irish say, good craic. And the first time I had hung out outside the office with 2 of the girls that were out that night, and the first time I met another coworkers wife.

The next day was Friday, and the holiday. I slept late. Then I ventured out to Bugis for some shopping. It was the first day of the World famous Singapore Sale. Bugis was crammed with people. Crossing the street was a crush of tiny steps, everyone leaning into each other, a mass of humanity slowly moving along the sidewalk. Not fun when you are hungover, and me (who hates crowds, needs personal space, can’t stand people walking slow) Still, I managed to buy an new camera, so in the end a successful afternoon.

Saturday was the wedding of a co-worker, who is Singaporean. It was not a traditional wedding by Singaporean standards, but still quite interesting to see the differences to an American wedding. The wedding was in the Four Seasons with gorgeous views of the sunny day out side. The ceremony was sweet, the officiate funny, and he would switch from mandarin to English during the ceremony. After the ceremony, wine and juice was served and a great buffet spread, and cupcakes. Which we know, I love.

After the ceremony two of the girls from the office and I went onto have more wine at Boomerang on Robinson Quay. and after that we stopped at a Going Away BBQ for a googler, and then on to a bar for a drink. It was a lovely afternoon, getting to know better some great people from work.

The next day I met friend for Sex and The City 2 and some starbucks. and then I went home and did laundry.

It was a great weekend.

What I didn’t do the Weekend of Memorial Day (Friday May 28 to Monday May31st)

I didn’t see Sex and The City 2 with my friend Dana and friends as part of her birthday celebration.

I missed hanging out with my family that weekend.
I missed the cubs game. I missed the Sheffield beer and music fest.

I didn’t see the Blackhawks game.

I didn’t go my cousin’s wedding. I didn’t dance at the reception. I didn’t hear the speech my Uncle gave that left everyone in tears. I didn’t see the Maid of Honor, my cousin and twin sister of the bride, who is tom-boyish and tough with a wicked sense of humor, who cried through her whole toast.

I didn’t hear the off color but funny jokes my uncle joe tells.

I didn’t hang out with my brothers and their fiancées, and my parents before, during or after the wedding.

Singapore so far ...

SFO > HKG > SIN These are long flights. 14 hours to Hong Kong, another 3 to Singapore. I watched 4 movies. Read a book, slept.

On my flight from Hong Kong I sat next to a gentleman from China who spoke no English and obviously couldn't read English. The Embarkation card that the flight attendants passed out was in English. He and I engaged in some sloppy and awkward sign language when he asked for assistance filling his out. Finally I just took his passport and filled out as much as I could. I find it odd that an Asian airline wouldn't have something in Chinese. After the exhausting task of helping my seatmate, I slept.

When I got to Singapore, my luggage didn't. And they were so friendly and helpful, it was hard for me to cranky with them. Which, considering how tired I was, is pretty miraculous.

Friday, in my smelly sweater and leggings, I took a short walk around the block of my hotel. It was hot, I was stinky, I went back to the hotel. And I waited and waited and waited for my luggage. Initially it was supposed to arrive at 1pm. They then called to say that it had arrived to the airport, but wouldn't be delivered until between 3 and 6.

and so I waited.

and then my luggage arrived. and my shampoo had exploded. of course.

Sarah and her husband Ben invited me over for dinner that night, and told me to bring my shampoo drenched clothes to wash at their place.

It rained, down poured most of the night. They have a great apartment with a beautiful roof top deck, and had hoped to dine up there. Instead we ate in inside, but I did get a tour of the deck once the rain stopped. It was great catching up with them, and to see a couple that I knew when they were first dating, now settled into married life with a toddler. I started to yawn about 8pm. The combination of tiki masala, white wine, Jack Johnson and jet lag were doing me in.

I was back in my hotel room asleep in bed by 9:30. I slept until about 8am and woke to rain again.

I thought I'd make good use of the rainy morning and decided to go to the gym. Only, when I got to the floor I found that to get to the gym, you had walk outside by the pool. As I was standing there perplexed and unsure of myself, wondering if I should go back to my room and get an umbrella, or just give up on the undertaking all together when a man appeared with an umbrella for me.

After my work out, and my shower, the rain had stopped. So I decided to venture out into the city that would be my new home. I walked to the same shopping center that I had walked by the day before, but this time, a little more awake, and in clean clothes, I was in better spirits.

My hotel is on the edge of Chinatown. I was in the minority, and yet, I didn't feel like I didn't belong. There where people out shopping and walking, stores and restaurants. I felt a similar energy to New York. Everyone kept asking if I was excited about moving to Singapore. And really, I was so bogged down with the weight of the logistics to get here, and with the emotional task of saying goodbye to everyone I love, that I hadn't been able to feel excited yet. Walking down the street in Chinatown in Singapore, I finally felt excited. Like, finally, this is what I’ve been waiting for, this is what all the stress was for. I’m pretty sure I walked around with a goofy grin and wide eyes.

My plan was to just wander, and if I wasn't sure where I was, to than take a taxi back to the hotel. I managed to not get too turned around. I stumbled on the Maxwell Road Hawker Center. I wandered the stalls a little overwhelmed by everything, not sure what was what, or what to buy, and pretty much starving, until I settled on some dumplings. yum. Then I tried to some Almond Milk Tea, and continued on my meandering walk.

I then decided that I wanted to live in Chinatown. Before I thought I wanted to live in a modern High Rise. But seeing the shophouses, the winding streets, the shutters, I thought, this is Asia, this is where I should live. Of course, I'm sure the next neighborhood I explore will be where I decide I have to live.

I made my way back to the hotel. It was about 4:30. I laid down on the bed to rest, thinking I'd take a short nap. I slept until 11pm. I woke up annoyed with myself for having slept through the rest of the day. I was awake for a few hours, watching (I'm ashamed to admit) the Legend of Graystoke on HBO. I then fell back asleep, until 6am.

I decided to explore areas beyond the immediate neighborhood, so I took off for the MRT (Singapore’s subway system). It is CLEAN. And EFFICIENT. (Which I'm noticing, is pretty much how most of the country is, clean and efficient, hmmm...maybe there is an upside to canning).

Two stops on the MRT, and I was near City Hall, the Raffles Hotel and St. Andrews cathedral. I attended service at the cathedral. The Building is shiny white. Very beautiful. Inside, the pews are dark wood and feel ancient, but the walls are white, ceiling fans are white, and the front of the church is painted a bright blue. It feels both old and new.

After church I walked around the Raffles Hotel. I debated doing the high tea in the Tiffin room. Instead opted for lunch in the courtyard. I sat under an umbrella, drank a Singapore Sling and ate some chicken curry. It did feel very colonial. And it was both sweaty and cool, sitting the shade. There was a breeze, but I couldn't figure out where it was coming from. This is one sweaty place.

I headed back to the hotel, and spent a few hours by the pool. I ordered room service, and fell asleep by 9:30. I woke up at 4:45am. I was annoyed that I woke up that early. But, when I logged onto email, I had an email from Joey, he was working the night shift, so he called my hotel and we got to chat a bit. I then, worked out, and got ready for work, had breakfast in the hotel lobby, and headed to the office. In the less then 10 minutes of walking, I was completely covered in sweat. And now I am sitting at my desk, which is next to a window with a view of the harbor. And so, I survived my first weekend in Singapore. And I think I’m already a little bit in love with this place.

The little joys of packing and preparing to move to the other side of the globe

I’ve learned a lot about in the past few weeks. For instance, even if you believe that your apartment has been re-rented. Check, double check, and check again. Otherwise, four days before you leave you could be on the phone with the leasing director screaming and crying that they failed to inform you that the potential sub-leaser you sent them was rejected three weeks earlier, and that subsequently you turned away four other possible leasers.

If you are a disorganized pack rat, packing can be an emotional minefield. You can open a book and see that when your mother was ten, she signed her name in it and that your sister, who died two years ago, did the same thing when she was ten. You might also come across caricatures that were drawn of you and friends six years ago in New York city, one of the friends being the late husband of your best friend. This means that in the middle of packing boxes, tape and stacks of your things, you will break down and cry. Allot time for this.

Also, as a disorganized pack rat, you could open a purse, wallet, or make up bag and find a Ritalin pill that, by your estimation would have to be four years old. You, of course, will take the pill. And you will get much done that day. However, when you lie in bed that night and your heart is pounding, you will remember, half doses. You used to take half doses.

If you live in a third floor walkup in the back corner of a courtyard building, with the trash room at the front of the building, every time you throw something out it will involve three flights down and about 250 yards to walk there, then back and up the three flights. Even as a disorganized pack rat you will find yourself opting to throw away rather than pay to store or ship most of the crap that you should have tossed years ago. This means blisters on your feet, sore muscles, angry shoulders and a crick in your neck from the approximately 40 bags of trash you carried down those three flights and through the courtyard to the trash room.

If you decide to sell your furniture on Craigslist, don’t carry all the cash in your wallet when you go to TJ Maxx to treat yourself with a new summer top. When you are in the dressing room, if you have more than the 8 items limit to try on, bring your purse with you while doing the hangar exchange. Otherwise some jackass of a bitch will go into your dressing room stall and rob you of the cash you just got for selling your sofa. This does not make you happy. However, it does make leaving Chicago a bit easier, if for only a few minutes.

Check and double check the baggage limits for all flights. Especially if you are flying to Washington DC and then San Jose California before leaving for Singapore. Miscalculating the weight requirements could cost you over 300 dollars each leg of your trip. The realization of this might cause a brief moment of hysteria. Then you discover UPS Ground. If you pack at least 5 days early, you can ship your two 60 lbs packed suitcases to your Mom’s in California.

Don’t pack all your winter clothes right away, especially if it’s March in Chicago. One day it will be in the 60’s, the next it will snow. This means you will be head first into a wardrobe box trying to find your boots and a sweater. Also, once you pack up everything, and keep a warm jacket, not a cool spring one, one a winter jacket, the weather will reach 70 degrees. You will wish you had packed that jacket for storage.

You need to make sure you get enough sleep, that you don’t forget to eat, and that you don’t over caffeinate. This combo could make you a bit insane. Especially a few days in row.

Salvation Army will stand you up for picking up your donation. If you haven’t eaten, you are overtired and over caffeinated, this will make you hysterical.

When your apartment is empty, you have all your windows open, it’s a 70 plus light breeze day and you are sitting on the back deck, you will be overcome with nostalgia and sadness about saying goodbye to what was your favorite apartment to date. And you’ll feel a little bit panicked and nervous about the property-less wandering life for which you are about to embark.

Singapore, Here I come

I’ve tweeted, buzzed and announced it on Facebook. But I haven’t blogged about it. I am moving to Singapore. For one year. I’ll be going back to the Greatest Company Ever. Working out of their office in Singapore.

I wasn’t necessarily looking to move to Asia. I was actually networking for jobs on the East Coast. With my job situation not panning out, and missing my family too much, I was contemplating a move back East. I wasn’t expecting to move so far East.

But, the opportunity presented itself to work with (actually for) one of my dearest friends, for The Greatest Company Ever, to experience living in Asia, and to get a substantial raise that will help me knock out my debt. I couldn’t turn it down.

Now I’m planning my USA GoodBye tour, trying to rent out my apartment, secure my cat in a new home, sell my furniture, put whatever I don’t sell in storage, say goodbye to everyone I need to say goodbye to. Oh yeah, and, I’m going to start working for the Greatest Company ever, here in Chicago at first. So, I’ll be working while attempting all of this.

My challenges?

My mother lives in The Bay Area.

My father lives in the DC Area.

Two coasts.

Two parents.

Lots of frustrations.

I am determined to spend Easter in DC. I love Easter at my Dad and StepMom’s. My little brother and his girlfriend are coming down from NYC for the weekend. My older brother and his fiancé will be in town. And my StepMom FINALLY got reservations at Volt (restaurant of Brian Voltaggio, from Top Chef, and the husband of an old co-worker and dear friend from my NYC days, who, come to think of it, I haven’t seen since their wedding day).

So, I have a mother on the West Coast, Family on the East Coast. And Easter in the middle.

As of now, my USA GoodBye tour involves a drive from Chicago to DC (to deliver my cat to my brother’s) then a flight back to Chicago, and, possibly, a flight from Chicago to San Jose to see my mom, then a flight probably from San Jose to DC for Easter, than a flight (or probably more than one flight) from DC to Singapore.

Goodbye to Good Time Charlie

Good Time Charlie

I first started working when I was ten (yes ten) babysitting. I believe that's illegal today. Then I worked at the snack food stand at the little league field. That was the summers I was 14 and 15. When I was 16, I started working in the local Public Library. And when I was 17, GapKids at the mall.

But, my first office job was the summer between 11th and 12th grade. I interned for Congressman Charlie Wilson. That summer I did not get paid. I interned another summer while I was in college, and I did get paid. I believe for the princely sum of $1200/month. Which, to a nineteen year old in the early nineties, was living large.

Charlie Wilson was all the outrageous things said about him, and none of them. He had a crass sense of humor, and notorious love of beautiful women, a party hard lifestyle. He was also a shrewd politician. He was a public servant first, a politician second.

Yes, much of his staff in the Rayburn House Office Building was made up of young, beautiful woman. But, unlike how they were portrayed in the movie, it wasn't about cleavage and a party at the playboy mansion type atmosphere. Everyone on his staff was ridiculously intelligent and hard working. I was impressed and intimated by them as young adult.

Wilson was a large personality. He had a voice that deep and booming. He stood 6 foot four with a toupe that was usually just a bit crooked. There was a letter taped up in the office from a constituent saying that while she liked his politics, when she saw him on CSPAN, she was embarrassed by the tilt of his toupee.

I hadn't seen Wilson in about twenty years when I heard about his death. But was sad to hear of his passing. I posted his obit on facebook and twitter and late Friday night an old high school friend asked if I would be interested in writing a haiku about Wilson for her column on Huffington Post. With my sleep deprived mind, I threw something together quick, emailing it to her saying, well, I hate it (like I do all my writing) and understand if you don't use it. But alas, she did. And I was the featured writing, which, was a shock to me.

So... Check out Susanna Speirer's column.

Bloviating

Bloviate

Pronunciation: \ˈblō-vē-ˌāt\

Function: intransitive verb

Inflected Form(s): blo·vi·at·ed; blo·vi·at·ing

Etymology: perhaps irregular from blow
Date: circa 1879

: to speak or write verbosely and windily

The Speed of 2010

time is a concept.

really. it's not a concrete thing.

it's fluid.

This year. This one, as in, the last 28 days (isn't that a movie about zombies? or is it rehab? curious that I chose the 28th day to blog) have been moving at two very distinct paces.

s. l. o. w.

and

fast

I started a new position at the job that I don't love. So, there's that. I'm now working 40 hours a week again. So I can worry less about being able to pay my rent. (I said less. I did not say stop worrying).

and I have some new friends. It's weird how different my social landscape has been since New Years eve. New adventures. New things. Newness.

I commented on Facebook and twitter, that the number #1 trending topic was itampon. (not ipad, itampon) and today it's Salinger. or at least this hour.

and that made me think about time. because yesterday afternoon everything was ipad. last night everything was the state of the union. this morning was Zinn. this afternoon Salinger.

spinning. trending changing by the hour.

time. see what I mean? fast.

and yet, when I'm on the elipitcal machine, time is s l o w.

and when I'm sitting in the office.

and...

something is in the works for me. maybe. a massively huge, possibly, gigantic change in my life. a move that, well, it's big.

and it all started Sunday night. and picked up momentum, until now. and the news, the officialness, the whatever, could take six weeks. and so, sunday until today, whole new world. new mind set, new possibilities, new anxiousness. newness.. and yet...sputter. stall.

wait.

and wait.

s l o w

Google.cn

Wow.

I have been evasive on this blog in the past about who my former employer was, simply referring to it as the Greatest Company Ever. But it has now been three years since I left, so I will say it, it was Google.

I loved working there. I drank the primary colored Kool-Aid. I worked with smart, ambitious, fun, extraordinary people. Often the hours were long. And sometimes, like any job, it was frustrating, annoying, and there were bad days.

Yes, Google came with free lunch, espresso machines in the office, Happy Hours once a week, a great office near Bryant Park with a terrace. There were foosball tables, scooters, massage therapists, and engineers working in shorts and flip flops. But it was also hard work. High expectations. Little to no patience for complaining. You could never say, I can't do it or can't be done. It was an office comprised only of Type A personalities. The bar was set high. And really, because I loved the product, and I loved the people, I was happy to aim high and work hard.

I worked in recruiting. I staffed some exciting projects. In particular I was fortunate enough to be in international staffing, often conducting phone interviews with candidates around the globe, frequently for offices that hadn't opened yet.

One in particular was Beijing. I initially wasn't sure how I felt about Google going into China. In order to place servers in China, in order to have a Google.cn rather than Google.com, they had to cooperate with the Chinese government. I remember the buzz and criticism at the time, that this went against Google's premise to do no evil. That participating in the censorship contradicted this premise. However, any company doing business in China has to cooperate with the government.

There were many reasons why I thought it was good and important for Google to be in China, even with the censorship. The biggest being the people. From the top down, Google hired Chinese. I know. I logged many late nights, early mornings, and Sundays placing phone calls to China. Conference calls, phones screens, all with the goal of finding and hiring the best, the brightest, the “googliest” that China had to offer.

I interviewed candidates from entry level to managers. There are great challenges in hiring the right manager, and I love a challenge. But really, my heart was more into the entry level hires.

Kids right out of the most elite and competitive universities in China. Kids who had never worked before, who were so eager to speak to me. I remember one interviewer in particular who was so nervous, he kept giggling on the phone with me. They were aggressive in their enthusiasm to work for Google.

I am both saddened and impressed with Google’s current stand on China. There was so much hope and excitement about Google coming to China. I hate to think of the Googlers that I interviewed losing their jobs. But I believe (or really maybe just hope) that being there these past three years did make a difference. And by taking this stand, changes will occur.

Previous posts about Google Greatest Company Ever

10 years ago

There is a meme on twitter right now, #10yearsago.




This, well, it gave me pause, an epiphany-type moment. What I didn’t realize on December 31, 1999, was how much my life was about to change. I was aware in some obvious ways. I had just quit my job in Advertising and, in the New Year, was starting a new job and a new career in recruiting. I was in the midst of a messy, complicated break up. And I was contemplating a move out of the house I was currently living in.

What I didn’t know, what I couldn’t know, was that that was only the beginning. I had no concept of how different my life would be in only a few short months, and certainly within a year. Because 2000 was not only the year I started a new career. It was also the year I moved to New York. A move I wasn’t planning on and wasn’t expecting. It was a move that shaped my life in ways I couldn’t expect. A move that affected me, not only in terms of my day to day to life, but also shaped who I’ve become.

At the end of the 90’s I was looking back on a decade in which I graduated from High School, went away to college, graduated from college, fell in love for the first time, fell in love the second time, fell in love for the third time, lived on my own, started a career, made my first “adult-life-after-school” friends, become an adult (even if whether or not I’m effective at it is still debatable).

My memory of the end of the century was all the Y2K mania (seems so naïve now doesn’t it?) and forging into a new century, that I didn’t truly contemplate all the transitions and transformations that I (and my life) had been through in that decade.

I knew and expected that there would be changes to come. But I did not see or expect that changes that did.

It’s been quite a decade. There has been a lot of loss in my life, a lot of sadness, especially in the last half of the decade. But I’m remembering now that there was a lot of joy.

Lately I’ve been very sad, very frustrated with my life. I’ve been treading water in a mild depression. Frustrated with so many things. But for the first time, looking back at what I had no idea was in store for me ten years ago, gives me hope, optimism and even enthusiasm. I’m excited to see what the next decade has in store for me. All the things that I can’t even imagine, couldn’t even predict, have no idea that are about to happen to my life.

Goodbye to the Aughts

Before Christmas I started to draft a decade retrospective blog entry. A listing of the things I said goodbye to in the last decade. Things like an answering machine, a landline, DC, New York, and people lost. I had envisioned it being part nostalgic, part sentimental, part, sad, part funny.



But seriously, just the number of funerals that I went to in the past decade, was depressing. (btw, that number is 7). I just couldn't lighten it up enough.

Rather than a quippy retrospective, this is what I have:

In sum, the past decade, I switched careers, moved to NYC, entered my thirties, switched careers again, moved to Chicago, did some traveling (Spain, Morocco, Italy, London, Dublin), had some boyfriends, made some friends, lost some people, had some stories published, grew to appreciate my family (and the few really amazing friends that I have known for decades) and their love.

It is time to say GoodBye to this decade.

I'm ready for the tweens.

update: I forgot to add, started a blog.

Things said in my office

Overheard, the President talking to the Director of Operations:

It's like we're working with a proctologist.

My VP, speaking to me:

Woman of a certain age are always talking. Older woman, fifty-five and above. Not at your age. At your age they just look good. Well, for another year or two.

‘With all due respect, ma'am, you can go jump off a bridge.'

This story gives me hope for, well, our culture, kids today, and the eventual chipping away at prejudice in our society. Oh and that the constitution and the ideals on which is was founded are still kicking ass.


A boy and his flag

Will Phillips isn't like other boys his age.

For one thing, he's smart. Scary smart. A student in the West Fork School District in Washington County, he skipped a grade this year, going directly from the third to the fifth. When his family goes for a drive, discussions are much more apt to be about Teddy Roosevelt and terraforming Mars than they are about Spongebob Squarepants and what's playing on Radio Disney.

It was during one of those drives that the discussion turned to the pledge of allegiance and what it means. Laura Phillips is Will's mother. "Yes, my son is 10," she said. "But he's probably more aware of the meaning of the pledge than a lot of adults. He's not just doing it rote recitation. We raised him to be aware of what's right, what's wrong, and what's fair."

Will's family has a number of gay friends. In recent years, Laura Phillips said, they've been trying to be a straight ally to the gay community, going to the pride parades and standing up for the rights of their gay and lesbian neighbors. They've been especially dismayed by the effort to take away the rights of homosexuals – the right to marry, and the right to adopt. Given that, Will immediately saw a problem with the pledge of allegiance.

"I've always tried to analyze things because I want to be lawyer," Will said. "I really don't feel that there's currently liberty and justice for all."

After asking his parents whether it was against the law not to stand for the pledge, Will decided to do something. On Monday, Oct. 5, when the other kids in his class stood up to recite the pledge of allegiance, he remained sitting down. The class had a substitute teacher that week, a retired educator from the district, who knew Will's mother and grandmother. Though the substitute tried to make him stand up, he respectfully refused. He did it again the next day, and the next day. Each day, the substitute got a little more cross with him. On Thursday, it finally came to a head. The teacher, Will said, told him that she knew his mother and grandmother, and they would want him to stand and say the pledge.

"She got a lot more angry and raised her voice and brought my mom and my grandma up," Will said. "I was fuming and was too furious to really pay attention to what she was saying. After a few minutes, I said, 'With all due respect, ma'am, you can go jump off a bridge.' "

Will was sent to the office, where he was given an assignment to look up information about the flag and what it represents. Meanwhile, the principal called his mother.

"She said we have to talk about Will, because he told a sub to jump off a bridge," Laura Phillips said. "My first response was: Why? He's not just going to say this because he doesn't want to do his math work."

Eventually, Phillips said, the principal told her that the altercation was over Will's refusal to stand for the pledge of allegiance, and admitted that it was Will's right not to stand. Given that, Laura Phillips asked the principal when they could expect an apology from the teacher. "She said, 'Well I don't think that's necessary at this point,' " Phillips said.

After Phillips put a post on the instant-blogging site twitter.com about the incident, several of her friends got angry and alerted the news media. Meanwhile, Will Phillips still refuses to stand during the pledge of allegiance. Though many of his friends at school have told him they support his decision, those who don't have been unkind, and louder.

"They [the kids who don't support him] are much more crazy, and out of control and vocal about it than supporters are."

Given that his protest is over the rights of gays and lesbians, the taunts have taken a predictable bent. "In the lunchroom and in the hallway, they've been making comments and doing pranks, and calling me gay," he said. "It's always the same people, walking up and calling me a gaywad."

Even so, Will said that he can't foresee anything in the near future that will make him stand for the pledge. To help him deal with the peer pressure, his parents have printed off posts in his support on blogs and websites. "We've told him that people here might not support you, but we've shown him there are people all over that support you," Phillips said. "It's really frustrating to him that people are being so immature."

At the end of our interview, I ask young Will a question that might be a civics test nightmare for your average 10-year-old. Will's answer, though, is good enough - simple enough, true enough - to give me a little rush of goose pimples. What does being an American mean?

"Freedom of speech," Will says, without even stopping to think. "The freedom to disagree. That's what I think pretty much being an American represents."

Somewhere, Thomas Jefferson smiles.

A Boy And A Girl In A Bar

Saturday Night.

Setting: The crowd from a Rugby house party has moved on to a sports bar in the Lakeview neighborhood in Chicago. A boy and a girl are talking. He’s attempting to flirt. He’s bought her a drink. After several minutes of conversation, he thinks things are going well, she thinks he seems nice, but another boy from the party walks into the bar.

Girl (cutting him off from general bar small talk): I have to tell you something.

Boy: OK.

Girl: I kissed Joe the other night.

Boy: Ohhkaay?

Girl: So, um, I’m going to go talk to him now. (Girl walks away from boy)

Amy Anderson, awkward with boys since 1972.

You say it's your Birthday...

My birthday is this coming Wednesday. Birthdays, for me, are a touchstone. They are a time to reflect on where I am in my life. I both love and hate birthdays. I mean, who doesn’t love cake? And gifts? And people celebrating YOU? I’ve been known to wear a tiara on my birthday. (The rest of the year I am not a Tiara kind of girl) And drink very large, very alcoholic drinks. Over the years photographic evidence is abundant of me holding a drink, smiling, wearing either the aforementioned tiara or a birthday hat.

My favorite birthday celebrations vary from my first slumber party when I was a kid to a surprise keg at my neighbors in college to my birthday two years ago when I threw myself a bowling party. I bowled in a short dress and tiara (and a vodka tonic in hand). And have a picture of the men in my family wearing hello kitty party hats. Now that’s a good time.

The thing that I hate about birthdays is the whole reflection on where I am in my life. Some years it’s been all happy with my job, happy with my friends, happy with my life. Other years it’s been what-the-hell-am-I-doing freaking out? (That was most memorably 29 and 30 and 31).

This year, well this year I don’t love my job, in terms of responsibility, challenges and salary, it’s where I was ten years ago. And on top of that, they cut me back to part time. And, well, that’s all weighing on me.

Looking over the past year, since my last birthday:

I failed as a waitress. I mean, I’m REALLY bad. I should never wait on tables.
Got deeper in debt.
Wrote less than I have in years.
Not kept in touch with people as much as I should, would like, need to.
Went on one, and only one date.
Gained fifteen pounds.

But,

I made some great, amazing, extraordinary new friends.
Solidified newish and old friendships.
Was weightless. Total, no gravity, floating in the air, weightless.
Flew a plane. (as in, I flew the plane.)
Had my second story published.

So, I guess, maybe, this past year was, like most years, good and bad. The lows this year were not as bad, at all, as past years. But also, the highs could have been higher. So, as this next birthday approaches, I guess, bring it on. I’m ready for the next year. Ready to challenge myself, ready to succeed and fail, and all that messy crap of life. And in the meantime, as always, I’m amazed at the people in my life who love me and support me and make it all worthwhile.

Who says things like that?

My VP came up to me and whispered "See those are not challenges you have to deal with"

I asked "What?"

He replied, "Babies" and walked away.

What kind of puff piece does GoogleNews think I am?

I don't know who GoogleNews thinks I am. But I don't like it.

Lately, all my recommended news articles are all fluffy entertainment gossip. So, all week I've been clicking on hard news articles about Iran, Health Care, Afghanistan, Wall Street. Ok and maybe a review of Glee. And Gossip Girl. But also G20, the Olympic bid. Oh, and Kanye.

Hmm, maybe GoogleNews does know me. Still, I don't like it.

What is your definition of slow?

My VP: People complain that these old computers are slow, but you just have to be patient. You can't rush it.

Transference

Most mornings, when I’m too lazy to brew it myself, I stop at Starbucks. It’s not that I’m a fan of Starbucks (I think ya’ll know my favorite latte, where the foam is sublime), it’s really about proximity and convenience. It’s on my walk to the el.

Everyone at that particular Starbucks is great. They are friendly and cheerful (not too cheerful), they remember me and my order. They are efficient. They get the job done. And manage to not annoy me before I’ve ingested caffeine.

Except one barista. Who is nice. Who seems a bit timid. Who smiles. Who speaks in a soft voice. Who irritates me. Inexplicably, grates on my nerves. I feel impatience rising in me when I realize he’s the one at the counter.

This barista has never done anything wrong. Never messed up an order, never taken too long. He’s perfectly fine. I just, chemically, have a reaction to him that fills me with annoyance.

Then one morning I realized what it was. He reminds me of someone I once dated. Someone who, initially I thought was as a nice guy, and this was my attraction to him. I then started to realize, it wasn’t so much that he was nice, it was that he was passive. And nice, well, it is the path of least resistance. It is the easier, lazier, safer choice. His passivity quickly became repulsive to me. Which in term made me a bit nasty to him. Which made him a bit whiny towards me. Which repulsed me more. Do you see the horrible cycle?

He wasn’t a bad guy. But with him, I was a bitch. And generally I’m often too nice for my own good.

So this poor barista, with the soft voice and the doughy face, well, I’m trying to not be unreasonably annoyed with him. I mean, he’s not to blame for my dating past. But really, it’s too much to process before I’ve had my coffee.

Full time headache

Me: the last pay period was 10 business days. You paid me for 78 hours.

Payroll: you worked 78 hours.

Me: but I’m full time.

Payroll: you get paid the hours you work.

Me: why don’t I get paid over time, like when I come in on Saturdays?

Payroll: because you are full time employee.

Me: then why wasn’t paid for 80 hours?

Payroll: because you get paid for the hours you work.

Do you understand why I have a headache?

More from my VP's Office

While I was sitting at my desk I heard him to say to one of my (male) co-workers, "Turn around. Look at your butt. You and your butt."