I was recently reminded how far I have come. Last year in September I was juggling the on-boarding of a fourth addition to our team in as many months, reviewing code written by team mates on the other side of the globe, and still getting to work on any tasks myself. Two years ago I was struggling with my involvement the decision to terminate a new hire I had been training who was not a good fit for the role. Three years ago I was working on some of the first projects I took a lead in designing and implementing, which turned out to be some of the most frustrating projects at the company for the year.
Two short years ago we bought the house we live in now. We went from just the two of us, living in a two bedroom apartment, to owning our own home, in a much quicker span of time than I ever expected.
What’s in a name? Some would say a sense of identity. I’ve never been good at coming up with usernames. Most of mine were first-initial-last-name, which looks nice and professional, but still feels a little too personal for some applications. After all, I don’t need random people knowing what amounts to my full name when playing games online or posting messages in a forum. Not to mention that as a married woman I’ve changed my name to a much less unique name, making it hard to find a free username based on it more difficult. Part of changing my name has shown me that my identity really isn’t so wrapped up in my legal name as it is in who I am.
I went through a couple of phases of trying to come up with usernames for myself, using different things I like or things I do, but none of them describe immutable characteristics of me. More often they related to current obsessions, like pirates or computers. Not to say that both of those interests haven’t stuck around long enough to be a part of who I am, but neither of them are Brand Worthy. Even Various Characters, which I got quite attached to for its ability to abbreviate into VARCHAR (a SQL km keyword) isn’t really a name for a blog by one non-schizophrenic person, and makes even less sense as a username.
As it stands I plan to keep “Various Characters” around, but more as a collection of sites and coauthors that collaborate on posts, rather than my personal brand. After all, the other bloggers each have their own unique blog names, I deserve one too.
Which brings me to my name. It came as a bit of a revelation the other day when I was talking about my favorite album of all time: Celtic Armadillo. I like to call that my personal soundtrack, due to the number of times I listened to it. “Celtic Armadillo” would make a great username, but not only is it already the name of an album, I’m not Celtic. I started thinking about the armadillo part. Armadillos that I saw growing up were most often of the roadkill variety. But they’re still resilient animals inspire of their nearsightedness, two traits that I share with the creature. Armadillos are also known for their protective outer shells, which they make use of in stressful circumstances by rolling inward on themselves. Another thing I’ve been known to do in the past.
The second part of my new name was given to me over a year ago by my manager at work. One of the behaviors I’ve developed over the past three years working there is one of careful scepticism and the tenacity to pursue complete answers and understanding. It’s easy as someone as fresh out of college as I am to defer to the more senior developers. I will question decisions that I disagree with and will hold my position until I understand or make my own point to the other party. I’ve grown in confidence over the years, but I feel like I have always been a bit of a stubborn “Bulldog”. When I sink my teeth into something, I’m not likely to let it go quietly. I think that is part of what makes me fiercely loyal to my friends and family. The bulldog is a friendly animal, so long as it’s pack isn’t threatened, then it becomes fearless. I can sometimes be a bit too aggressive or overbearing for the situation, but my friends have all come to expect that of me as part of who I am.
I’m really excited about the new brand and name. I feel like it encapsulates non-transient aspects of my personality, and comes as close to my unique identity as I can think of. I can’t wait to see how this revelation impacts the continued development of my character.
Some days in life I like the feeling of being coddled like a younger sibling. As an eldest, any opportunity for this comes from someone outside of my family. Usually it comes from my friends. Almost all of my friends are older than me, by various degrees. I’ve got a group of people from college, people from church, and people from work, all of which are able to provide me their unique perspective on the world.
When I first arrived at college, I went from being the oldest in the group of people I spent time with, to being the youngest. From being a high school senior among a few dozen home schooled kids, some even a decade younger, to being a young freshman in an unfamiliar environment. I suddenly made a lot of friends, where I was used to having a small set of people I would interact with, who I had known for years. My bubble got a lot bigger and filled with people whose advice was valuable. Even though there were annoyances in my dorm experience, I truly felt adopted by many of the people I met in my first weeks of school.
While a lot of those friendships were formed by convenience, or forced community, I treasured the experience of being mentored and listened to by people who could have just as easily chosen to ignore me. I garnered a whole host of big brothers and sisters, whose life experiences I could use to gain some perspective outside of the insulated world I grew up in.
I loved that feeling. The sense of value from people’s willingness to give me their time and attention. I don’t presume that they all perceived me as their little sister, but in a lot of ways I felt treated that way: treasured and nurtured. It didn’t matter if I felt clueless or confused when there were so many people around to help me grow.
Many of the people who filled that role for me when I first reached college have passed out of my life. While a few of them disappeared from my life gradually, as I spent more time with certain friends, others grew distant themselves, or left the college altogether. I am glad to have met them, and experienced their comradery and kinship.
I still run into this feeling with most of the people I spend time with. I’m a very team oriented person. Always saw my own sisters as equals, and family unity is important to me. I care about the people around me in the same way. I value my team mates and friends as members of an extended family, uncles, aunts, cousins, siblings.
I’ve mentally adopted all these relations as part of my emotional investment in their lives, as part of the exchange where they have invested in me. I want to value the incredible people around me, and spend as much of my attention learning from them while they are a part of my life. I want to learn skills from them to be a good listener and mentor myself.
There are still so many people around me who I can spend time listening to and investing in, more of my own “little sisters”. Although my own sisters, who are my first and very dearest friends, can never be replaced. I like to think of it like my sister-in-laws do, they have adopted me as just another member of the family.
I love being everybody’s sister, it gives me a good perspective on how to interact with others, valuing them and treating them with respect.
Over the course of the past 12 months, I’ve felt very insular. I’ve been sequestered in my apartment and made a plethora of excuses to avoid going out. Some valid, some just excuses. It’s been a long year, and as a person who thrives on time to think, I’ve spent a lot of that time in introspection.
I’m starting to learn though, that I still need people. I need community. I need to be surrounded sometimes, by others who can carry me up and out of a funk. As much as I claim to be an introvert, being buoyed by people around me is what is starting to bring me back to a healthy mental state.
In my profession, the disparity between the number of men and women is stark. Twice as many women computer science majors graduated with my mother than with me at the same school. I have always expected that any place I work will have fewer women than men because of this fact.
It’s kind of sad that I never expected anything else, but I have always been OK with the fact that I would end up working with a lot of men. Sometimes it even feels like I’m working with a bunch of boys whose senses of humor are stuck at a middle school level. Which can be both entertaining and very inappropriate. Then again, I never really enjoyed spending time with girls at that age anyway.
Despite growing up with two younger sisters, by the time I got to college, it was easier to talk to guys than girls, especially if those girls were in my Computer Science classes. In fact, the first few weeks at school I was approached by some older girls on my floor who wanted to warn me that it looked suspicious that I had half a dozen different guys up to my room over the course of a week. Little did they know it was always related to homework, just a side effect of the fact that I was one of two freshmen girls who had declared my major. I guess they were more right than I wanted them to be, since I ended up marrying one of those boys from my first CS labs.
That other freshman girl in my class didn’t end up sticking with the major (the girls I graduated with came over to CS from math and engineering). Some part of me still wants to take some of the blame for that girl leaving the program, because I never really talked to her to encourage her to stay. At that point in my life, I was taking great pleasure in being the favored child in class, flitting around talking to the boys and showing off how much I knew. I felt like I needed to prove myself and that somehow she was my competition more than the guys were.
I kick myself now for such behavior, because I recognize how immature it was, but that type of attitude is still something I’m working on. I don’t need to be the best in the room, and I don’t need to show off for attention. I can be kind and friendly without discriminating who I show those attitudes to. And without looking or acting like a terrible flirt (thanks again floormates for that epitaph).
I imagine avoiding the perception of flirting is somewhat easier for me than it would be for a single woman, since I’ve got a ring to indicate I’m taken, but it’s sad to think that friendliness could be so easily misconstrued. But everyone should be able to form friendships without being perceived as having an ulterior, romantic motive. How can we treat our colleagues and friends as uniquely valued individuals unless we put aside such attitudes and perceptions of others.
The men in my life are really all throughout my life. At home, at work, with friends, I’m constantly surrounded, and often out numbered. Finding a way to relate to and engage with the people around me has necessitated forming friendships with them. Friendships with these people come out of the environment and attitudes we share, and help me to grow by giving me access to different perspectives. Perspectives that are different and valuable to me, regardless of what gender they come from.
I value and trust my male friends, but I also know the importance of being able to relate more easily in some ways to my female friends. There aren’t nearly as many around me to be friends with, but that means I value them even more. I’ve learned, since those early days of college, that I cannot be in competition with people in a way that will push them away. Their successes are not my failures, but admiring their skills should help drive me forward in developing mine. Friends build each other up and challenge each other.
I know its cliché, but the best way to make a friend is to be a friend. And that means being a friend to the people around you, regardless of their gender. Friends support one another, and I know I would not have made it where I am today without the support of the people around me.