If You Belonged Here

Diosa is Hot for Geeks

I am a web programmer. Don't get all nervous and let your eyes gloss over yet. I'm not going to bore you with too many details. I have one of those jobs people don't like to hear much about.

It's fine. I'm over it. 

Last Friday, I spent at the RIA (Rich Internet Applications) Conference in Boston. It's the first time I've been to a professional conference like that in my career. Honestly, it took me long enough. I've been so busy just trying to balance my day-to-day job and raising my kids, not to mention having a husband who's self employed and works all day and sometimes all night, professional development has kind of gone out the window. And the time and money I've had to spend on my career, I spent taking classes.

I may have been a bit misguided there. I'm starting to think professional certifications and conferences are where it's at.

A programming conference may not sound all that enticing to you,  but I had an absolute blast. First, I met two of my ColdFusion programming icons. Whenever I research how to accomplish something in CF online,  these are the two guys that come up. They have been my mentors for years. And I finally got to meet them.

In person.

It must be a bit weird having some woman come up to you and introduce herself, telling you what a fan she is of your blog. It was a bit weird for me, anyway. It's like I'm a groupie or something. I've never been the groupie type before. Leave it to me to become a groupie of the ColdFusion Jedi and Obsessively Thorough Web Application Development.

The latter used to be called Kinky Solutions, but Ben has gotten a little more mature and professional over the years. And he's totally cute. He lives in NY (Bookgirl, maybe you should look him up. He's single as far as I know. I really should have asked when I met him, but I was slightly awe struck). The Jedi told me his degree is actually in English too. I can't tell you how thrilling that is for me. Perhaps I will one day find the force within me too.

One can hope.

One of the coolest things about programmers is their terrific sense of humor. These are some quick and dirty replications of some of the more entertaining ways of making a point.

To let your audience know how you really feel about your programming language of choice:

 

To exemplify how you're not that impressed by all the trendy web services in the websphere:

 

To reiterate how you put this presentation together in your baby's delivery room this week:

 

And a lesson on string concatenation wouldn't be complete without a quote by George Bush.

"There's an old saying in Tennessee -- I know it's in Texas, probably in Tennessee -- that says, fool me once, shame on --shame on you. Fool me -- you can't get fooled again."

I also had a great conversation about jQuery with a couple of guys that do web development for one of the colleges at Harvard. There are few things in life that impress me - not your money, not your BMW, but Harvard, as long as your not some conceited a*hole, that's impressive. And if you're a really cool guy covered in tattoos, even better. Of course the guy not covered in tattoos was cool, too.

But you get my point.

And it never hurts being in a room where the ratio of men to women is about 4 to 1. I may be married and loyal and all that, but the attention is still nice. Because I've never had anyone ask me if they could follow me on Twitter before. That would entail me actually signing on to Twitter, though, not just having that account I opened two or three years ago.

The Jedi was the one who used the photo of Paris. He confessed that he follows her on Twitter. Not because he's really a fan, but because she's exactly what you would expect. Not everything works that way in programming or in life, so getting exactly what you expect, well, that's often the best possible outcome.

In programming it's the only acceptable outcome, and you can spend days getting there. 

In life, it can be nice to get more than you expected.

As for me, I suppose I'd be thrilled winning the lottery, finding out my portfolio was worth more than I thought, realizing my phone can do cool tricks I didn't even know about.

But honestly, most of the time, I'm quite content just getting exactly what I expect.

Bookgirl is Begging the Question 4

I am the queen of the clever comeback, the witty quip. I can flay you with my razor-sharp tongue. I know exactly what to say to people who have embarrassed me, hurt my feelings, or pissed me off.

Unfortunately, I never think of it until much later. And even if I do think of it in the moment, I'll almost never say it. Because I'm too busy being nice.

One time Polly said something about how assertive I can be, and I thought she had lost her mind. Until she repeated back things I had said to her. Evidenty when I was recounting arguments, and I got to the part where I said, "and I was like..." she thought those next comments actually were spoken out loud.

Isn't that cute?

In reality, "I was like" is code for "and then I thought this really bitchy thing but didn't say it." There could be volumes written on things I wanted to say but didn't. Sound familiar?

So now I'm asking you...

What's the meanest thing you never said?

Go on, get it out. I'll even go first:

• Everyone thinks you're batshit crazy. We mock you behind your back. We're nice to you because we have to be.
• Wow. You are so much hotter when you don't talk.
• You were only invited because your friend would have told you, and I don't want to hear about it later. I don't even  like you. Go sit down and shut up.
• I get that you had a hard life. But you're still a prick. One doesn't cancel the other out.
• I know we had great chemistry on the phone. But that was before I saw you in person. You're kind of a troll.
• I'm nodding my head and agreeing with you like I'm going to do what you're asking, but let's keep it real here: never gonna happen...
• It's not me, it's you. Seriously.

I showed you mine. Now you show me yours.

Bookgirl on The Good Stuff

When 2009 rolled in, I was at what I'm hoping (please, God) was my absolute bottom. I was morbidly obese, and I worked for a sociopath who treated me like I was an idiot.

I was desperate.

And for the record, the sociopath diagnosis wasn't mine. It came from an actual mental health professional. And technically it was "narcissistic sociopath." Granted, she based it on my descriptions of Cruella, not actual firsthand observances, but whatever.

I stand by it.

I was eating my way through every workday to keep myself from jumping out the proverbial window. Eating when I was happy. Eating when I was sad. Eating when I was lonely. I knew something had to give. So in January, I walked into an eating disorder treatment program.

Now, some people enter into treatment certain that they'll do whatever it takes to make it work.

I was not that girl.

I was more the "I'll give this a chance, but if it sucks, I'm out" type. But I went to a meeting, and there was a woman there, about my age, who had once been my size, and she told her story. And it sounded a lot like my story. So I came back another time, and another. And then I started telling my story.

 "Hello, my name is Bookgirl. And I'm a compulsive overeater and bulimic."

I'm pretty sure the first time I said that out loud, I threw up a little in my mouth. Imagine sharing your deepest, darkest, most shameful secret. The secret you're just now beginning to understand and come to terms with.

Out loud. In a room full of strangers.

And you know what? No one judged. There were no gasps of shock or looks of horror. Instead, there was only quiet, kind acceptance. The only person there projecting shame onto me was me. And that's when my life began to change. I remember telling Polly at the time, "Some day I'm going to look back on this period of my life as when all the good stuff started."

I started dealing with my emotions instead of shoveling in sour cream and onion chips and cookie dough ice cream to fill the hole. And for the record, I would trade any one of you for the ability to go back to eating those things in a healthy manner, without binging, without guilt. But that's not on the menu, so you're all safe.

For now.

I started realizing that if I'm not treating myself like shit, no one else gets to either. That while I was saying horrible, mean stuff to myself, the things Cruella was saying didn't sound so awful. But once I stopped, and gave myself a break, they became completely unacceptable.

Back in August, things came to a head, and I lost my job. They called it a layoff. But that's semantics. I was fired. And you know what? It was okay.

It took everything in me not to say "thank you" in response to the news. I got to not be miserable every day. I got to go out and recreate my life, to figure out what I really, in my heart of hearts, wanted. And I got to do it without having to live on ramen noodles because I had given in and quit, and that was all I could afford. I felt like I had won.

I had some time to breathe, and play, and do the things I love. I travelled. I spent some time with Polly, I spent some time with my family, I visited places I've never seen. I got to be there for my sister's surgery and recovery, to bond with my niece and grand-niece, to catch up with friends I hadn't seen in years. I started freelance writing, and when people asked what I did for a living, I got to say, "I'm a writer." 

Just typing that now still makes me giddy and breathless and goosebump-y: I'm a writer...

And then, the time I had allotted myself for discovery and growth ran out. And that very day, I got a job offer.

 Not just a job: THE job.

The job I've been dreaming of and looking for and hoping for. Except it didn't exist, because they only created it now. I'm working on books I love, with people I like and respect, back at the best company I've ever worked for, where my career first developed and flourished. I'm back at the grown-ups' table.

So now it's November.

I weigh 72 pounds less than when I started. I have a career, not just a job. I'm back in life, instead of living in my own private hell. I want to be with people, instead of hiding in my apartment. I have friends and family who love me, and for the first time in a long time, I love me. I look in the mirror, and like what I see there.

But more importantly, I look into my heart, and like what I see there also.

I've still got a distance to go on the weight loss, and my life is far from perfect, but it's good. Really, really good.

This is the good stuff.