Work and a working marriage.

I'm going to address two things today, the first being occupation-related and the second being women related.
Of course.

I've been put to work, officially. I'm now sitting in my office (a converted conference room with a clear view of the front whole bit of the office) making quality assurance calls to existing customers. But I have my own computer, my own email address, my own phone with a direct line, and my own space. I'm quite pleased with it all.
I got gas station coffee on the way to work this morning. It's been a constant reminder all day that perhaps the nightlife doesn't mix as well as might be anticipated with the working life. That alarm is a harsh reminder of the real world.
My first few calls were a bit rough, but I was practicing on all of the people in the office. They were making up ridiculous problems and laughing as I verbally stumbled around them, but in the end, all has gone smoothly.

But on to real things, really.

Yesterday, I came across this article and thought it well worth commenting on.

 Women Really Want to Marry a Rich Man
Wow.
I had a discussion with a few people about it yesterday, but I'm under the impression personally that the reason many successful women might want to marry a rich man is because of the implications of intelligence and motivation, desirable qualities in a partner. If a woman sees herself as intelligent and successful, she will obviously want to find herself an intellectual equal. Generally, you have to smart to get rich. (This is not to say that there aren't smart people who aren't rich, it's just that few people can maintain a successful career trajectory without some semblance of intelligence.)
I want to marry a rich man, that's not a lie. I don't want to struggle financially as we navigate our lives, but if he's only rich in monetary value and not in character, then the marriage would never survive.
However, I see that there are possible advantages to having one person working in the house, be it the male or the female. Marriage often results in children, and if one parent's salary seems to only cover external household labor expenses (childcare, cleaning, general upkeep, etc), then it might make sense that that parent would stay home to do those things rather than contracting them out to other people.
Conversely, I believe that if one parent is constantly at home doing family labor and the other is out in the corporate world (or some other type of business setting), the marriage might also suffer as a lack of commonality between the two. With less to talk about and less in common, the two people might begin to pursue other interests or activities separately rather than being able to maintain a working dialogue stemming from a single experience set.

I guess in the long run, what I really want is to marry a smart man.
Idiocy is such a dealbreaker.

Employment

This is my first blog from work!
(I don't know if there will be many to come, but perhaps, so we'll mark the occasion just in case.)

I've been getting settled in the past couple of days, and so while things are still new, I've got some time on my hands. It does remind me of African time, though.
My capacity as telemarketer will lead me into unknown territory but I do believe I shall manage. There are a bunch of trade shows coming up, so after those, I'll be busy attempting to manage the prospective clients.
But for now, I am content to be employed.

Soon will come the apartment; the hunt has already started.
And after that will come the second job, to make all those loose ends meet.

One day, I'll be salaried somewhere, reminiscing about those days post-college, when I was dirt poor and loving my life. I often wonder if that nostalgia will happen, although I certainly hope that my life only increases in wonder as I age.

But it begins slowly, without fear, and for that, I am also grateful. It will blend into a routine and soon enough, it will be the daily grind. The commute, the coffee, the dry-clean only clothing piling up somewhere. All of that, and hopefully a lot more.
I hope to learn a lot while I'm here about office structure, information systems, law software, and everything else I can take. It's going to be a grand adventure.

Sometimes there's just too much to say. 

I'll attempt to do a moderately sane recap of the past few weeks and then we can progress smoothly into the new year. 

Tonight is my last night of cat-and-apartment sitting. I have really enjoyed both being downtown and also being with Carlos. He slips into bed with me at night and curls up next to my shoulders, usually wrapping his paws around my arms or nestling his head against my hand. We've resumed our routine, and for that I am glad. 

I was furious at John one night after he insinuated that Carlos missed Jacob, but he's since recanted enough to appease me and agreed that Carlos is a different cat for Jacob than he is for me. Alas, one major difference is the counter-jumping. In Chicago, there was never a kitchen issue for me. He didn't jump on the counters, or walk across the stove, and I most certainly never found him atop the refrigerator. 

However, John was telling me that one night, he saw Carlos on the counter at Jacobs, licking a stick of butter. When he heard about it, Jacob's reaction was, "Wow, I wondered why that stick of butter was going so quickly." No wonder my cat is so fat - he's sharing butter. 

Also, he snores. 

I've really enjoyed being so very close to the heart of Denver - if it was warmer, I'd be able to walk to anything. New Year's Eve, I had dinner with Emily and Madeline here and then we walked down to the bars and then walked back at the close of the evening. 

It was much like last year. We were at the Ginn Mill for awhile then declared it boring, but were unfortunate enough to end up at the Sports Column, where I realized that classy is all relative. Madeline and I spent a good hour trying to evade a horrible, close-talker of a man with horrible close-talking hair who claimed to be both Nordic and then Puerto Rican. I dissed his Spanish and then told him I was South African. That got into the whole "what makes an African American" argument, which we promptly won. 

Then the Nordic invasion of Britain started. Oh dear god, never cross Madeline Hosanna in a bar with history. Also, thank god for the first set of Irish the summer before our senior year of college. The Battle of Hastings. 1066. I'll never forget the date. 

Post midnight we ended up back at the Ginn Mill. Happily, we all found interesting men to talk to and the night progressed amicably. After the bars closed, we found another of our friends and took the whole party back. Coffee and bagels rounded out the morning. 

A delightful evening.