Jananas

The cat is out of the bag. Jason & I are engaged. It wasn’t really a surprise. We’ve been together for three years and have spent lots of time over the last while talking about weddings and equally fun things like immigration. Jason had even vocalized that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. (cue inner girl going Squeee!)

It was this weird in between space where we knew it was going to happen eventually, but I wasn’t able to be excited/start planning. Traditional gender roles would have us believe that as the woman I was supposed to just sit back and wait. And wait. And wait until someone else made a decision for me and for us. It was a position that made me feel powerless and weak and frustrated.

The only reason I felt that way though was because I’d allowed myself to discount a totally viable option. I bought into the limitations of traditional gender roles. I didn’t have to wait because I had the power to ask too.

So yes, I asked Jason to marry me. We were tucked into bed talking one evening and I just had to. The question was sitting in my mouth, taking up space and weighing me down. I knew that if I didn’t ask, I’d focus on it and drive myself crazy. So I asked and he said yes.

And because I’m me, I then asked if I could wear a ring that I adore. My father gave my mother this ring years and years ago. Its an opal surrounded by little diamonds. Its the only ring that I’ve ever liked wearing (this doesn’t mean that I’ll always wear it though because I’m really not a jewelry sort of girl) and in my head its always been a left hand ring finger sort of ring.

Now, for ring pron.

I’d wanted my arm pits to be tattooed for a while (as in years). I think that they are a strange combination between stealth and highly visible/unusual. Really, I wanted to be able to say that my armpits smell like roses. Except that I dislike the way tattooed roses look, so I went with daffodils instead.

We did the first one about a month ago. It healed up really well when you consider how much movement there is in the area and the fact that the two sides of fresh tattoo rubbed against one another when my arm was down. There are some minor touch ups and I’d like to add some more yellow to it, but I was so stoked.

Having it done sucked. The first two hours weren’t bad and the third hour was almost unbearable. I convinced myself that I could sit through 2 more minutes, just 2 more minutes for an entire hour. But it was done and now I could relax. Ha! Healing it was pretty brutal as well. I was so wiped out that I slept for 13 hours the next evening. Moving my arm, dressing, stretching all made it sore. And given that I’m right handed and this was my right armpit it meant that just about everything made it sore. Luckily I heal pretty fast, so the small layer of scab was off in 5 days. Then it was just waiting for the scar tissue to open up so that I could stretch fully again.

Last night I went back to get my second one done. I was pretty nervous because I knew what I was in for. Thankfully Jason came with me to hold my hand and provide moral support.

My artist also used new machines this time. They are neumas. They are super quiet, so I wasn’t fighting the stress of the sound of the machine as well as the pain of being tattooed.

I like this picture, because normally you don’t see people look quite so happy and full of smiles when they are getting their armpits tattooed. Yup, this is about how a I roll.

This is the final piece. The glare is from the last layer of ointment prior to being bandaged up. Its also still fairly red/pink because of irritation. We’ll grab photos of the healed piece in a few weeks for you so you can see the final result.

I can now proudly rock floral armpit tattoos. Its nice to have both done so that I feel balanced again. I really like these pieces. And I really like that most people don’t realize that I have them. Its like my own little joke that the world isn’t in on.

I’ve been working for just under three months and am rapidly approaching the end of my probation period. I wish I could tell you that its all its cracked up to be, but frankly I’ve been tempted to just walk out at least twice a week. That isn’t a very good track record.

It sucks because I like the people I work with. They are a good group and I get along with them.

Its the work that’s killing me. I’m a financial analyst doing business case support. But, but, but (there’s always a few of those out there) we’re really just a check in a process. We do business cases but don’t have the authority to say no to a program if the numbers are bad. The numbers we do pull together don’t feed back anywhere (forecasts, planning, budgets, etc.). No one’s held accountable. In fact, our numbers generally aren’t great because we don’t have good data. We don’t understand our customers or their behavior. We don’t really know how previously campaigns turned out. And we don’t know how things are changing (i.e. in a fast moving industry, assumptions from two years ago just don’t cut it).

We got our objectives earlier this month. I’ve been there for just under three months and I’m already 80% to completing them. By the end of next month I will have completed everything on the list. There are no stretch goals. There’s no where to go and nothing to do to get me to the next level. There’s nothing to reach for, to motivate me to try harder. It sucks.

It is really, really demoralizing to have a job that doesn’t do anything. That doesn’t contribute. It makes it hard to stay connected and to care about the quality of your work. It isn’t motivating.

I hate when senior management is so far out there that they bullshit their employees. Please don’t tell me one thing and do another. I’m not stupid and treating me like I can’t put two and two together is belittling. I read through program documents regularly. I get bombarded with marketing jargon telling me how we’re “technology leaders” in our industry. We still use Office ’03 and IE6 (which is so old it doesn’t support tabbed browsing and doesn’t work with some of our own customer facing sites!). I find it hard to believe that we’re leaders in technology when I’m the mayor of our office on Foursquare. Me, a finance analyst for business cases. Not a marketing person. Not a tech person. Not a product person.

I’ve been really struggling with work. I generally have a fair amount of down time (in part because I work fast), which leaves me with a lot of time where I have to look busy. That’s time that I could be spending learning or creating (painting, spinning, knitting, batiking, etc.). Instead, I get home at the end of the day and I’m exhausted. I don’t have the energy to create. It makes me resentful of that time that I spend at my desk. I know that as a salaried employee I’m paid to park my butt at a desk for 7.5 hours but I hate that those 7.5 hours impact the rest of my life.

When I don’t have the energy to create, I’m miserable. And that spills over into everything else as well. It impacts my relationship with Jason and my desire to exercise and to spend time with my friends.

I’m torn. We’re told as employees and good little job searchers that we can’t leave a job after three months. It’ll look bad on our resumes. The next place won’t look twice at us. I’m in an even tougher position because this is my first job after my MBA and I took time off to travel. I have an even bigger gap to explain. This makes me feel like I’m stuck working in this environment where I’m disconnected and bored and resentful.

I know that something has to change because I can’t keep doing this.

I’m not a corporate person. I can’t put in my 7.5 hours every day. I want freedom to be creative. I want a job that wants me to voice my opinion and that will challenge me. I want a job where I care about what I do because its exciting and cutting edge. I want a job that asks me to think and values the fact that I’m not a stereotypical MBA.

It may be time to make the decision that I can’t stay in a job just because I need it to look good on my resume. That my mental health and happiness is more important than making it easy to find my next position. That I’m going to have to bust my ass to convince the next company that I have more to offer than a business degree and analytical skills.

What do you suggest?

By day I’m a financial analyst. I’m the cog in the machine that puts together your business cases  so that you can get the go ahead to launch. Last week I worked on a program that involved DRM (or even more importantly, a move towards the lack thereof!!). I got to explain to my manager what DRM is and why many people aren’t big fans of it. I had to add a footnote explaining it, just in case senior management didn’t understand either. I took it directly out of wikipedia.

“Digital rights management (DRM) is a generic term for access control technologies that can be used by hardware manufacturers, publishers, copyright holders and individuals to impose limitations on the usage of digital content and devices. The term is used to describe any technology that inhibits uses of digital content not desired or intended by the content provider.”

I understand that definition. It made me think if other people would understand it. If people don’t really think about ownership rights when they buy a song or download an e-book, then they may not understand the implications that DRM has for them. If people aren’t deep into the tech world or the music world or cutting edge authors, then they may not have a frame of reference for what this means.

How else can I explain DRM? How else can I frame the problem? Can I use another metaphor, something with more relevance to everyday situations? Something that someone who isn’t technically minded (and might even be dismissive of those who are) would still get? It hit me last night.

Imagine that you’ve bought furniture for your house – couches, a dining room table and chairs, a bedroom set. Imagine that you’ve moved homes twice in the last 10 years. Tomorrow you’ve moving into your third house. Except that when you go to move in you get told that you can’t take you’re furniture with you because you were only allowed to use it in “two houses”. That’s what DRM is – it is restrictions on how you’re able to use something that you’ve bought.

Imagine a world where someone told you how many times you could move your furniture or how many times you could sit on your couch. That’s DRM.

How else could I explain this? What other metaphors might work to communicate this idea?

This evening I ordered myself a Nexus One (engraved to boot) and setup my p8tch to direct, well, here. Yup, I feel like my nerd character just lvld up.