On the art of living as a Technerd Dirtbag Vagabond, official title.

Hello, internet readership! I dipped out of the blogosphere for the past 6 months, but fear not, readership of at least one! I have returned! Anyways, let me begin with a shocking new development:

I now live out of my car.

Dear ones, I heard that beer crack open, and you’ve probably started the shower to camouflage the tears streaming down your faces, but before you embark on that beer/shower combo (and make me jealous), or wonder why I haven't told you this tidbit about myself yet, or start clearing out space in your spare bedroom/garage/closet, let me explain how I got here and why this is something I actually want:

How I got here:

After Hackbright ended in December of 2014, I realized that I was suffering from some serious burnout. This shouldn’t surprise anyone who’s not me because 8 years of school for an associate’s in English, bachelor’s in Linguistics, an internship at Harvard, a research grant in Mexico, and two fellowships (University of Mich, Ann Arbor and Hackbright Academy) is a lot for anyone, especially a high school dropout whose relationship with school has always been complicated.

Add to that a creeping suspicion that the tech world may not hold workshops at the base of El Cap in Yosemite, and it makes sense that I decided to take six months off and have a quarter life crisis, the remains of my student loan money in tow. During that time, I was basically convinced that the tech world wasn’t right for me. I decided that my two interests of academia-style problem solving and rock climbing were just too disparate to combine in one lifetime. So I did what any other Flintstone would do: I stopped coding entirely and started climbing. A LOT.

Reasons why taking 6 months off was the best thing I’ve ever done:

• I was able to rid myself of the stress-induced shoulders-to-ears stature from academia-level workload and poverty
• without any academic program / parent / spouse to factor in to my decisionmaking, I more honestly considered what I want. I. Me. Mine.
• I gave myself the chance to actually miss having an intellectually demanding job
• some wonderful people pity-friended me and ended up inspiring, supporting, and encouraging my weird-ass lifestyle choices
• to make up for all that lost time in academia, I climbed in as many places as I could manage: I made it to Castle Rock State Park, The Pinnacles, Stinson beach, Mickey’s beach, Mt. Tamalpais, Glen Canyon State Park, Turtle Rock, Indian & Mortar Rock, Humboldt county (the Trinity Alps and So So Grotto), Mt. Diablo, Joshua Tree, and Yosemite.
• I did a thing I was terrified to do (only to find it required the ferocity of a napping kitten compared to what I had been building it up to be in my mind): I climbed Half Dome in Yosemite via the 5.7 Snake Dike route--this took 14 hours, during which my dear friend Marcus and I hiked 17 miles, climbed 2,000ft, and saw NO ONE on the trail or the climb. That’s the stuff of dreams, right thurr, folks
• I identified my fears about failure in climbing and my career
• I volunteered for both the Bay Area Climber’s Coalition (BACC) and the Access Fund--two organizations focused on climbing area access / maintenance, community building, and stewardship of climbing areas--and am now a member of the BACC’s event planning committee

Luckily, my friend / previous boss Michelle Montoya’s words have done me well-- “surround yourself with people who are smarter than you and who aren't afraid to tell you what they really think.” When I told Danielle, a super talented friend from my graduating class at Hackbright, about my doubts about even liking programming, she said, again and again, “Ally, you LIKE coding. I’ve seen it. We did it. You like it. You just hate the interview process.” And Kevin, my wonderfully supportive roomie would often, during conversations about my anxieties, mentioned that this is exactly what imposter syndrome looks like. As it turns out, they were both right. I just wasn’t ready to admit it until I fully exhausted my pent up energy for climbing.

So, by the end of May, having spent my student loans getting zen in the mountains and not-studying for tech jobs, I now had two options: move back to the ol’ ‘rents house in Nevada, tail between my legs, or build a diamond-tight budget and do whatever it takes to stay in the epicenter of tech, studying and striking a balance between my two passions.

Right. So in order to make the obvious choice work, I sold my stuff, packed up my laptop and climbing gear, put my cat under the care of his #1 fan (who also happens to have a cat-proof backyard, three kitty-loving roomies, and a place in Marin that I can visit whenever I’m feeling needy for kitty cuddles), and I moved into my car-partment on June 1st. As I write this, I’m sitting in a memory foam car recliner under a giant willow tree in Berkeley, where a gentle spring breeze just blew a flower into my lap. Not bad, eh?

So...that’s a lot. I hope you’re on your second beer by now. The shower will come, I promise. For the brave blog pirates (and possibly concerned friends/family members/potential employers) who’ve made it this far, sail on!

Why this is something I actually want:

I’ve been wanting to live out of my car for years. I’ve done it during stints of climbing in various places across the country, but never full time. I even wrote an “instructional” (read: entertainment) piece about pimping out your car-partment for my Hackbright Academy application.

As for my motivations, clearly saving money is an important factor, but it would be a disheartening oversimplification to reduce my motivations to just that. I’ve had numerous friends offer me a place to stay, and I’ve declined. The many benefits of this lifestyle include privacy, autonomy, potential for proximity to nature, minimalistic living, self-reliance, and the freedom of the open road. I’ve always been interested in the idea of independence, and have shaped my entire life around finding joy in activities and people, rather than the accumulation of (unnecessary) things. This is one of the reasons that the internet of things and tech in general inspire me--I marvel at the digital world which enables me to have access to all Star Trek episodes without a library of DVDs to cart around, or allows me to update my Github repo from a remote climbing area.

The social stigma surrounding this lifestyle choice is my primary reason for writing this blog--I want to fully engage in this social experiment before I’m too old and comfortable to even want to do so, both in terms of finding out what this lifestyle choice is really like, and in terms of engaging with people on a topic that maybe makes them uncomfortable. I’m thankful that, for one, I live in the Bay, where I am but one of many breeds of strange tech people, and hopefully my choices won’t shock or disturb people as much as I fear they will. I’m also thankful that recently, things like the drought have fueled conservation efforts and prompted folks to think more acutely about how they use resources. Additionally, the fact that the tiny house movement has gained so much social traction gives me hope that folks won’t immediately lump me into the do-nothing, must-be-addicted-to-something, societal-leech category as soon as they get so much as a whiff of the campfire scent in my hair.

Mostly, I just want to be especially deliberate with my time, focusing on programming, climbing, volunteering, and maintaining relationships as much as possible, with minimal distraction and maximal efficacy. So I’ve created some rules for myself:

1. I will live out of my car for at least one month
2. I will maintain a budget and track money spent and miles driven, every week
3. At the end of June, I will compare this to money spent during previous months
4. I will make dinner at a friend’s house 1x/week
5. I will volunteer at least 1x/week
6. I will take 3 Coursera courses
7. I will work on at least one pair programming project for the month of June
8. I will write at least 1 blog post/week
9. I will text my forever nervous mother every day, to assure her I’m still alive, productive, and jealous of her ability to at any time have a beer in her shower

My next blog post will include pictures of my sweet set-up, some commentary on my personal experience so far, tidbits about what I'm learning in tech, as well as a rockin’ list of articles that I hope will illuminate some of the myriad motivations of this entire home-free community, so stay tuned.

Also, for those of you referred here by my Facebook post, I'm sure you feel cheated--I left out the most important part--I can now do 15 pull ups in a row, with the help of songs like this...wait for dat chorus, doe.

Carpartment Essay (Hackbright Spring 2014)

Hey all!

I wrote this essay for Hackbright last Spring when I was applying for the Hackbright Summer 2014 Fellowship. I'm including it here because it's related to that pesky life goal of mine to live in my carpartment, and I've now actually started putting these skills to use (more on that later).

The writing prompt is expecially open-ended, giving no restrictions for length, format, or even content (really), so this piece was perhaps the most troublesome part of my application. It polarized the group of folks I asked to edit my application--my stepdad, for instance, said that it made me seem unintelligent and flippant, while others (like my friends already working in tech companies in the bay) said that it communicated my personality and sense of humor, and was their favorite part of my application.

When I arrived at HB, many peers said that they had written on more tech-related topics, so this approach seemed to be different than the norm, but seemingly didn't hinder my application from moving forward.

Here's the essay and prompt:

Share in detail about a particular piece of expertise that you have. You can write about something that is educational, professional, or recreational.

In Bishop, California, the best season for rock climbing is from fall to early spring. Cold temperatures are really the best for friction between climber paws and the chunky, less-than-friendly quartz monzonite that makes up a big portion of the rock there. This fact, coupled with the good news that Bishop doesn't get a whole lot of precipitation, makes the Eastern Sierra a cold, dry climbing paradise. One winter season, I spent every weekend in Bishop. I was in school full-time, so I had to find a way to climb during the short daylight hours, stay up late doing homework (in below freezing temperatures often combined with wind), and still get in some quality dream time. I had to get real friendly-like with winter camping, so a tent simply wouldn’t do. I developed a campion (car camping champion) level of cheap-but-classy car-partment development expertise, so the following is step one toward your very own highly glamorous, only slightly sweaty, car camping adventure.

First, you should preferably own a car with a space large enough to lay down in. It’s double-plus-good if you can sit upright in your rig, or else you’ll be funking out your back, neck, or your eight-pack while trying to read, write, watch, type, knit, etc. Remember: the sun sets in Bishop in winter as early as 4pm. That’s a lotta hours of back funk before sleep. No bueno! For the purposes of this instruction guide, you should probably buy a 2009 red Subaru Forester. Once you have your wheels, measure the dimensions in your sleep area. In my ride, the height of the cargo area from the floor to the roof is 32”. The width is 45.5” between wheel wells. The approximate length is 70” or 5’8”. Lucky for me, I’m only 5’6”, so this is not a problem. For 6’ dudes or ladies, I hope you’re fetal position sleepers!  

Next, go to your local fabric or craft store and buy a sheet of 2”, high density, open-cell foam. Sheets come in varying sizes, but unless you want to order online and pay shipping, you’ll likely have to buy by the sheet or by the yard. If it’s not high density, you’ll have a princess and the pea problem. If it’s closed-cell, it’ll be too firm (think gym floor; not great for sleeping on). You could go thicker, but the price increases dramatically with each added inch. This is your one big purchase and you can expect to pay anywhere from $100 - $200. Everything else can be done on the the cheap, but this is the difference between a good night’s sleep and an evening of mini-naps and cell phone video games.

So once you’ve got your sheet of foam, go to your grandma’s house and borrow her electric carving knife, or use a big serrated bread knife. Use the measurements of your sleep area and a sharpie to cut your foam sheet to size. Cut it by holding one side and sawing back and forth (or let the electric knife do the work--it works like a dream. Thanks, Grandma!). I did this on my floor since foam is squirrely on saw horses, but note: foam bits get everywhere, so floor that’s sweep-able is ideal. Don’t worry too much about making the edges pretty; your next step is to make a large pillowcase-type cover for it since foam has that weird chemical smell. I prefer the rectangular shape of pad for ease of use, but if you want an hourglass shaped mattress, go for it! Who doesn’t like complicated sewing patterns?

Because I use a sleeping bag on top of my foam mattress, I went to a thrift store and bought two felt-y blankets for a couple of dollars. If that freaks you out, use some old sheets or buy new fabric. Next, sew the sheets together with a sewing machine. Remember: to make sure your foam case will fit, measure your sheets to the same dimensions as your foam pad, then add an extra two inches, and sew the seam 1” in from the outermost edge, with a little extra room for non-stretchy fabrics. I sewed mine like a pillowcase, with seams on three sides, but feel free to upgrade to a zipper or buttons on your fourth side. I won’t go into the angering subtleties of understanding the thread tension on a sewing machine here. If you need help, ask grandma / a friend / the internet. Once you’ve sewn your case, put it on your foam pad, and you are done!

This completes step one! You are 33.3333% closer to one cush car-partment. Tune in to the next Allyson Stronach Hackbright application for even more car-partment fun! Preview: step two is making a desk that can hold your laptop, books, water, Funyuns, etc., and that hovers over your bed in just the right place and at just the right height. Step three is making curtains that somehow adhere to the walls/windows of your car. Step four is actually step one to a separate guide: the car-partment kitchen(!), and steps beyond that are purely pimp-out-my-ride related: things like bed-to-chair conversions, slipper holders, lighting options, shelving, the speaker situation for movie nights, etc. But don’t fear! If you want more info, the Allyson Stronach Hackbright application(s) to follow can surely be converted to friendly weekend car-partment assessment conversations over coffee and bagels in, oh, say, San Francisco this summer.