Nobody Cares About Your Blog
Was shopping with my 'best' friend when she, laughing, pointed out a t-shirt emblazoned with this sarcastic phrase.
She knows I have a blog, but I've never sent her the URL (plausible deniability!) so I don't know if she's figured out where it is or whether she actually reads it.
I guess she thinks it's stupid for me to ever mention it to her at all?
I'm writing because of angst, rather than any sort of good news.
It's frustrating because I'm always worried about revealing any kind of details that could identify me, but there are some things going on lately that I really want to write about, so I'm going to try to continue to obscure just enough while still giving you the main ideas.
A lot of stuff happened this week that has me pretty upset.
I had a meeting last week where a male friend kind of hijacked the conversation about my work, and while I know he meant well and probably didn't even realize what was happening, the senior PI in the room was looking to my friend to give suggestions on my project, instead of looking to me. Thanks, pal.
It's what I call the 'little birdie effect':
A woman suggests something, some time goes by, a man suggests the same thing and everyone congratulates him on a great idea. The man doesn't remember that he heard the idea from a woman's voice, instead the idea just 'came to him' as if 'a little birdie told me.' So he's in the clear because he didn't mean to steal her idea. He literally didn't realize that he didn't give credit where credit was due.
I was thinking about this because I was reading Absinthe's stories about her experiences at Fermilab and wondering if some of her stories could also be explained this way: we don't even register on their radar, so when they overlook giving us credit, is it because they're deliberately trying to screw us over, or because we don't exist?
So I'm feeling like I'm not supposed to have a voice, from the 'nobody cares about your blog' smackdown to the little birdie effect.
As usual, I'm afraid that if I'm too much of a squeaky wheel, I get labeled as 'hysterical female' (aka 'paranoid' in today's vernacular). But if I don't say anything at all, I get flattened by the wheel of a very large truck.
Oh and then, just for kicks, I went to see an acquaintance in a burlesque show.
Yes, they were wearing pasties and everything.
It was bizarre. But not what I expected. Mostly I was suprised that it wasn't more shocking, that it didn't turn me on in the slightest: it wasn't sexy.
And it was oddly empowering, in the sense that they weren't perfect bodies and they were obviously having a great time prancing around with their asses hanging out.
But I'm not sure how I would have felt about going to see something like that with my boyfriend. He probably would have found it sexy... I'm not sure if I want to know.
And I found myself wondering what sorts of day jobs these women have, because much as I worry about having a blog, I could never do something like that! So here's hoping, in some ways more than others, that nobody cares about my blog.