Landing on the Boy's Planet

Several months ago, I became involved in a little start-up. The project began in a computer science class, but it languished in the shadows of Stanford students' lives for nearly a year before being resuscitated last winter. I wasn't around for all of that, but I am around now. In fact, this "venture" is the reason that I'm awake at 2:16 AM. As a female English major in a world populated by male engineers, this blog might be the lifeline I've been seeking.
I won't run you through all of the tedious details of how I got here - I'll leave that to the venture capitalists who might one day perform due diligence on the company. Here are the parts of the story that matter:
I never thought I'd be involved in business. Throughout high school, I edited the literary magazine and acted in plays. A photograph from my senior yearbook says it all: under "Most Likely to Succeed," I was shown reading a collection of poetry while my friend Stephen (who was also extremely likely to succeed) read The Wall Street Journal.
At Stanford, I study a trifecta of unemployable subjects: English, Art History, and French literature. My entire life has set me up for a career in academia writing interdisciplinary papers and hosting Kant study groups. I suppose that's why it came as such a surprise when I turned down an internship at the MET to work for a start-up that was trying to make, of all things, a toy for girls.
This may sound impulsive, so let me clarify from the outset: I have no regrets at all. I haven't set up my life to deal with regret. Working in the venture world has actually been a blessing. If I end up being an English professor one day, I don't want to have made that decision on incomplete information. I want to know I made the right choice. Perhaps only time will tell if "right" means money or power or Romantic poetry or all of the above.
Let's set the stage for the story I am about to tell. I am a Stanford senior, 21 years old, born and raised in Minneapolis. The start-up of which I am (ahem) a founding member currently has its office on Sand Hill Road in Menlo Park, making it one of those fancy incubator investments, virtually a toy itself for a partner. I live in Menlo Park too, for the summer, in the master bedroom of a house. I have a walk-in closet, my own bathroom with two sinks, and a shower with a steamer. I'm driving one of my best friend's cars, a Honda Accord with a sun roof and a six CD changer.
This is what they call the high life.
I call it the boy's world.