Training Again
I'm back taking the train to work again. Al had been driving me to work, but I decided that on most days I'd rather take the train. If I need extra sleep he'll drive me, and once or twice a week I'll take the car, but at least three times a week I'll take the train. I have to get up earlier to get to work at the same time (it takes about 20 minutes by car, but an hour by train, door to door), but having extra time to enjoy the fresh air and sunshine is always a good thing. I don't always get out of my cube during the day, so if I didn't have the walks to and from the train station, I'd miss it. And Al still picks me up, so I don't have to walk to the train station in the bitter, windy dark.
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Last night I had two interesting dreams. In the first, I was pregnant. Usually when I have dreams that I'm pregnant, the gist of the dream seeps from my unconscious mind to my conscious one, and the feeling that something is so utterly wrong wakes me up. This time I stayed asleep and didn't panic, not even in the dream. The only time that I freaked out a little was when I realized how small my stomach was. I'd been in bed, eating lunch from a tray, and there were at least two other people in the room (a doctor and a nurse) waiting for me to go into labor. I said I needed to use the bathroom, and I think they were hopeful that getting up and moving around would cause labor to start. I first noticed that my stomach wasn't that big when I got up off the toilet. I'd expected it to be difficult, but it was easy. Then, when I walked back into the outer room, the doctor commented on it, too. I looked barely pregnant. "Well, my mom looked 3 months pregnant when she went into labor with me," I said. "It's because I was sitting back so far, near her spine." This, of course, made me remember how incredibly difficult my mom's labor had been, and how she had almost died, and I worried a bit that my labor might be difficult, or at least really painful. I don't remember anything after that, but I think it's a good sign (if I'm planning to bear a child, anyway) that I was preparing myself for labor in this dream, and not just running around screaming, "HOW DID THIS HAPPEN??? I DON'T WANT THIS! GET IT OUT OF ME!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
In the second dream, I was at a military/space station, being trained to be a fighter pilot. I was still me, Lori Hylan-Cho, Dreamweaver engineer, but it was like taking a field trip into a Star Wars movie. Our planes looked like a cross between the current military jets and Y-Wings, and we were sent out on a mission to fight Imperials. We seemed to do pretty well; I didn't hit all my targets, but I hit a few, and I wasn't shot down. I don't remember how we got back to the base... there just seemed to be a scene change.
Next thing I knew, we were preparing for our next mission. Everybody ran out of the rec room to the flight deck. I looked around the staging area, realized what an interesting scene this was, and wanted to remember it. I went back into the rec room to get my digital camera. I needed to change the batteries, so I did that and then returned to the flight deck. At that point, everyone was taking off. I'd missed my opportunity to photograph the scene of everyone milling around. I'd also missed my chance to get a flight suit that fit: there was only one left, and the pants were too big in the waist and too short in the legs. I said to the deck officer, "it's OK, I'll just wear this." He replied, "it's an hour-long flight to the battle site. You'll be too uncomfortable to fight by the time you get there, and besides, you've missed your group. Just stay here."
About 90 minutes later, a small group of our planes came into view, being pummeled by fire from a hoarde of Imperial jets. I kind of freaked out; all my flightmates -- teammates -- were dying. Why was I saved? I started to cry, but as in the pregnancy dream, the emotions weren't real enough to break through to my conscious mind and wake me up. Even as I was crying, I was saying to the deck officer, "why did they have to die, and I missed the battle altogether?" I was trying to see what the larger plan in the Universe was. "Is it because I'm an engineer and they're in Marketing? I mean, not that we don't need marketing people, but without engineers, there wouldn't be a product to market..."
It seems that whereas two days ago I was worried about being fired, I now, in my subconscious at least, have an inflated sense of my own importance to the team.
posted by Lori 3/5/2003 12:36:17 PM Not Fired
So with Vic's help, I fixed that crazy bug yesterday; in fact, by the time I wrote Frustrated and Inept, I had already checked in the fix. I didn't feel good about it, though, because I felt like I had floundered for too long, and that it was really Vic who had come up with the fix anyway. Also, I didn't feel any closer to understanding the codebase or being able to come up with fixes on my own. After talking with my manager this morning, however, it turns out that I might have contributed more to the fix than I was giving myself credit for, and asking for help was the absolute right thing to do. Asking for help within two hours was even better. Where I thought two hours was an inordinately long time to be lost and confused, my manager was thinking quite the opposite. Apparently sending up the flare that early demonstrated that I have the right instincts for becoming a successful Senior Software Engineer. Wow. Who knew that having a low frustration point could have an upside?
posted by Lori 3/4/2003 01:54:04 PM Frustrated and Inept
The phrase "talentless fuckwit" comes to mind, probably because I read it in Momo's about page earlier today. Unfortunately, it comes to mind in connection with my own self-image today. You see, they are trying to make me a C coder at work, and I feel like I am failing miserably. I spend 90 minutes at a time going back and forth through the source code for our product, looking for anything that might apply to the bug I am trying to fix, or, even better, anything at all that makes sense. Yes, I have taken a C class. Yes, I have books on C++ in my cube. Yes, I understand what classes are. Yes, I have several years of complex JavaScript coding experience. None of that seems to matter. I am floundering in a C of MFC and header files and comments that appear to conflict with the code below them. How long until I drown (or get fired?).
posted by Lori 3/3/2003 05:30:14 PM