June 30, 2007

Boundary Patrol

My therapist says that I’m a “boundary person” - whatever the hell that means.

I don’t really have a therapist. I probably should, but I’m not into spending money unnecessarily, unless it’s for a new gadget that I have been techno-lusting for long enough to justify the expense in my mind. Instead, my wife’s dear friend who is a therapist gets to analyze me for free. I should say, chooses to rather than gets to, since no one ever asks her to do it. She’s a professional therapist, so I guess she’s good at it and all, but I’m not sure if I were in her position I would volunteer to semi-analyze my friends at cocktail parties. On the other hand, she doesn’t understand why, when hanging out at their place, if I notice that their computer’s antivirus is out of date or somesuch, I jump into fixing it.

The thing is, neither one of use expects the other one to do these things. Which makes it a pleasure to provide the service. Add to that that we both tend to want to be helpful to others, as much as possible, and it makes it easier to want to be helpful. It’s the pay-it-forward concept.

In thinking about this over the last pile of years, I have noticed that I have friends who just don’t seem to get that basic concept. These people are what I like to call “charity leeches.” They will suck in any charity they can find and then greedily seek out more. These are the types of people who are constantly asking for your assistance at something, but when you need something are always unavailable.

It’s very hard to work up the energy to want to help these people.

Here’s my thinking – charity is a collective entity. There is a pile of charity that we all constantly “pay” into and “draw from.” So, I might get help from Jim, but then provide assistance to Bob. As long as Bob is paying into the charity pot, eventually, when Jim needs help, it’s available. It might not be directly from me, or from Bob, but it’s there.

And some people just don’t get that.

So, when a charity leech calls me to ask me if I can help him move, this weekend, when I have plans to be out of town, I am actually pretty able to say “No, that doesn’t work for me,” without the slightest tinge of guilt.

Another key to the whole system is knowing what you’re actually helpful at. For example, never ever ask me to help you with something like investing, or picking out clothes, or cooking a gourmet meal, or something else that I am hopeless at. When anyone asks me to help with something that I suck at, or would not be able to give it the attention it deserves, I am able to say “I can’t do that,” without any guilt, either.

If there’s a way I can contribute that doesn’t exceed my abilities, I’m happy to do this thing. But I usually need to be directed in these efforts.

So I guess in the end what my therapist means when she says that I’m a boundary person is I respect my limits and the limits of others. And I don’t waste a lot of time fretting about disappointing others who want me to be something I’m not.

Or maybe she means I'm a heartless son of a bitch.

June 29, 2007

Sufficient Time and Budget

Do you know what happens if you type "adn" followed by a space in Microsoft Word? It automatically converts it to "and." On the fly. You don't even know it's been there and done that. I guess Word just knows that people, in general, suck at typing.

This feature is called "Autocorrect as you Type" and can be programmed to auto correct your personal automatic misspellings if you happen to be prescient enough to know what they are. For example, I know how to spell the word "friend" but for the longest time, I wanted to type the e before the i, ingrained knowledge of spelling rules notwithstanding. And I have a real bad habit of liberally sprinkling q's all through my writing. Something about that key just has a hold on my pinky finger I guess.

Autocorrect is a godsend, and a bane as well. Because as I type this posting into the handy dandy editor that Blogger offers, no such autocorrect feature is available. So, on occasion, my sloppy typing allows a misspelling that has no business being there into one of my posts, and I am out of the habit of looking at what I type. I suppose I could run the spellchecker, but I rarely think of it; I know how to spell, I just don't know how to type.

Anyway, I have always thought that a really good idea would be a feature called "Autocorrect as you Speak." How many times have you blurted something out only to wish you hadn't. Of course, Undo would be great as well, but you'd have to be aware that you messed up for that to work.

For instance, about 10 years ago, when I was a computer based training developer, I was telling my manager about the fact that I had to buy a new mouse for my computer at home - a smokin' 486-33, in case you were wondering. Effecting a semi-swashbuckling manner, I attempted to tell her: "Yeah, I double-clicked the sucker to death." Apparently though what I actually said was "Yeah, I double-clicked the fucker to death." Big difference. Especially with this manager.

She went pale. Looked surprised. I looked ashamed and changed the subject. It was my only defense.

If she hadn't reacted, I never would have noticed that I had trangressed. THIS is why we need auotcorrect as you speak. (I'm going to leave that misspelling in there on purpose, as it is a perfect example of how crappy a typer I am.)

Impossible, you say? I don't know about that. Fifteen years ago, I dreamed up an idea for a device that would mount in your car and tell you directions on how to get from place to place. At the time, I thought it was science fiction. Impossible, I thought. And yet I now am the proud owner of a Garmin c330, which does just that. For less than $300.

Nothing, and I do mean nothing, is impossible given sufficient time and budget.

June 28, 2007

A Few Updates

I wanted to take a moment or two and let you folks know how I am doing with some of the conundrums I have written about this year.

1. Tim. We met for a couple of hours this evening. He quaffed Belgian abbey ales. I quaffed Becks NA. He didn't even notice the NA.

2. Me being an idiot. Last week I ordered a replacement LCD panel for my camera. And using information I found on this site and on this site, I managed to pull my camera's guts apart, replace said LCD, and put it all back together without having any extra screws or parts lying around afterward. Oh, and the camera works perfectly now. Yay me! And Yay those guys who put up the how to do it information where I could find it!

3. Wii. Back in April, while on vacation in Loozyanna, found a stack of Wii's on the shelf at the Zachary, LA Walmart. Yay Zachary Walmart!

4. Accents. I forgot to mention that I do a Yiddish accent too. I play birthday parties and bar/bat-mitvahs for all those who are interested.

Okay, that's it for now. Goodnight.

June 26, 2007

Another Reason Not To Brag About My Writing

The first words he utters upon entering the room: "Quick, turn on the radio. They're about to read something on the air that I sent in!"

This would be exciting were it anyone else. But it isn't. It's him.

He's the resident shameless self-promoter.

He has a million stories about times when people begged him to write something - a song, a review, a poem, a play - for an event. And he never fails to point out the genius and brilliance of what he has written. And how funny it is is. And how poignant it is.

He has such a refreshing lack of false humility.

A lot of people walk around randomly breaking out in song. I do that, even though I suck at singing. He, however, is the only one I know who does this, and the song is almost always one that he has written. And you and I have never heard of.

It might be important for me to point out to all of you that I do not work with Neil Young, Michael Penn, or, hell, even Sebastian Bach. If he were, and had at one point had fame, and then lost it, or something similar, I might be able to tolerate this - even work up sympathy.

But that's not the case. You have never heard of this guy. This guy's greatest accomplishment is being published in the local town newsletter and publishing a technical manual on print typography.

So, why does this bother me? Good question. I think that there is a subtle implication in his self-promotion that indicates that he thinks he is better than the average joe. It could just be that he wants to prop himself up, ego-wise. Maybe he really believes, deep down inside, that he is not that great. I dunno.

But I am not a big fan of people who over-promote. Give me the quiet genius in the corner who doesn't go out of his / her way to make it known how smart he / she is anyday.

How do I respond? Well, I don't want to be an asshole, but sometimes I just can't help it. Especially when someone is standing on my ego to try to feel taller. In this case, when the radio people failed to read his thing on the air and he then told us what he had written, and let us know how funny he thought it was, I looked at him blankly, smiled vaguely (which is not as easy to do as it sounds), and said, "That was pretty lame." Because it really was. About as bad a joke as I could have come up with.

I probably should have kept my opinion to myself, and probably would have had I not endured his shameless self promotion. But it doesn't matter. He didn't hear me anyway over the applause in his head.

June 22, 2007

Tim

I am supposed to meet Tim after work for a drink this coming Thursday. I haven’t seen him in a few years. He worked for a company that my company was hired to do consulting work at. He is originally from the Ukraine, and I speak a little Russian. We bonded over that.

It also helped that we both like jazz, high end consumer goods, coffee and beer.

After my company stopped working for his, after he was laid off, we continued to get together. He kept trying to get hired by my company, but for whatever reason, it never worked out. He even invited me to his house to meet his wife and to have Turkish Coffee. Both he and his wife were gracious and complimentary of how well I speak Russian. Apparently that accent thing I do helps with my pronunciation.

But now, I am a little nervous. We haven’t seen each other since before I gave up drinking. And I am not sure how to break the ice with him. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable, or to make him feel like I am judging him when he chooses to drink and I don’t. I don’t want to be one of those holier-than-thou self styled paragons.

Usually in these cases, I just order myself an O’Douls and let them ask about it if they feel the need. But Tim is the sort who might not understand, and might be weirded out by it. He might even order something for me that I’ll have to allow to go flat and wasted. I honestly don’t know him well enough to know how he will respond.

People do get weirded out by it, by the way. You don’t drink? Why? You seem like a normal guy…

Sort of like my Dad, who still insists on offering me a beer every time I visit with him.

“No thanks, Dad.”

“Still not drinking huh?”

“Nope.”

“You know, as far as I’m concerned, you don’t have a problem.”

“I know. And I want to keep it that way, thanks.”

I am thinking of lying to Tim. Tell him that I’m on medication that alcohol will fuck with. Maybe tell him I’m being treated for depression, and alcohol is off the list. Maybe I should tell him I’m on Atkins and am avoiding carbs. (Nah, one look at me, and you’d tell I’m not on any sort of diet.)

I understand why I am doing this. I don’t demand that anyone else agree or understand, but I really don’t want it to make a potentially uncomfortable experience more awkward.

June 20, 2007

Confession

I hate, Hate, capital-H-A-T-E the word 'blog.'

It sounds ignorant. It sounds scatalogical. It sounds like spelling "Quick" K-W-I-K. I think that one of the biggest reasons I don't want to tell people about my blog is that it would force me to use the word "blog" in conversation.

It doesn't roll off my tongue. It catches in my throat.

Have you ever started saying something and then when it is halfway out of your mouth you wish you hadn't and so you either swallow the rest of the word, or you get that audible "GLUNK" sound in the middle of the word?

Blo-og does that to me every time.

Even the derivation of the word is stupid. "Short for web log."

Web log? These things are not web logs! (Warning: geek content) A web log is something a web server uses to keep a record of hits to a web site. Trust me, I've read a few in my day, and although some blogs that I have read are not as interesting as a web log, I am able to tell the difference.

Okay. I feel a little better now.

Now ask me how I feel about "viral marketing."

What, are we selling diseases here...?

June 19, 2007

INTJ

“What’s that?”

What’s what?

“Int-juh?”

Int… Oh, you mean I-N-T-J?

“Yeah, that.”

INTJ. It’s my Myers-Briggs profile.

“Huh?”

Myers-Briggs. It’s a “Personality Inventory” type profiling test you can take to help you sort out what sorts of things appeal to you. They measure four preference factors and rate you on a continuum, from one end of the spectrum to the other. Introverted vs. Extraverted; Intuitive vs. Sensing; Thinking vs. Feeling; Judging vs. Perceiving.

“And you are … ?”

Introverted iNtuitive Thinking Judging – INTJ.

“Intuitive starts with an ‘I’”

So does Introverted. No system is perfect.

“That’s weird. I never thought you were an introvert. Weren’t you into all that acting and public speaking shit?”

Oh, but I am. A person can be outgoing and be an introvert at the same time. What this means is that I like to be by myself, and that rather than talk my way through an issue or a problem, I think it through first. My wife is a textbook extravert though. I guess it’s true that opposites attract.

“Okay, swell. You’re an INTJ. What does that mean?”

Nothing. Everything. I don’t know. It means that I share my preferences with something like one tenth of one percent of all other humanity, so I am not the best test subject if you want to test the average person. Here are a couple of links that purport to explain INTJs.

http://keirsey.com/personality/ntij.html
http://typelogic.com/intj.html

Truthfully, I didn’t see anything in there that I disagreed with. I think it’s a very fair and accurate representation of my preferences.

And that’s the key. It isn’t a description of who you are; it defines your preferences. A thinker can perceive. But he/she would rather think, given a choice.

“So, what am I?”

I don’t know. Take the test. http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes2.asp

“I’m afraid to. What if I don’t like the results?”

Screw 'em. My sister took the test and then refused to tell me what it said she was because she didn’t like the results. Said she thought it was an inaccurate representation of her. I am willing to bet that it accurately defined her preferences, but not what she wanted her preferences to be. I could be wrong though.

Another friend took it, and told me before he got his score ‘No test can accurately describe me.’ In the analysis of his type, it said 'You’re the type who doesn’t think that a test like this can accurately represent you.'

“Is this like an IQ test or something?”

No. Just a personality profile. But since you mention IQ, I may as well say that IQ is highly over-rated, and I’m not just saying that because the one time I took an IQ test I scored lower than I thought I would. It is based on my knowledge that several people that I know who scored in the genius range could not be relied on to remember things and were unable to do simple repair jobs around their houses. As far as I’m concerned, a high IQ coupled with an inability to use a hammer results in a special category of 'extra stupid.'

“So you had your IQ tested? What’s your IQ?”

I don’t remember. I think it ended in a 6.

June 16, 2007

Zero Percent Creative Content

IF YOUR LIFE WAS A MOVIE, WHAT WOULD THE SOUNDTRACK BE?

So, here's how it works:

1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing.
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't lie and try to pretend you're cool...

Opening Credits: Jumping Someone Else’s Train – The Cure

Waking Up: Let Go – Frou Frou

First Day at School: Mother Father – Dave Matthews Band

Falling in Love: Age of Consent – New Order

Fight Song: Vulture Culture – Alan Parsons Project

Breaking Up: Rockets – Joe Walsh

Prom: How Can You Do It Alone – The Who

Mental Breakdown: I Don’t Believe – Paul Simon

Driving: My Wild Love – The Doors

Flashback: Knocking on Forbidden Doors - Enigma

Getting Back Together: Zaar – Peter Gabriel

Wedding: The Dream of the Dolphin - Enigma

Birth of Child: Peanuts – the Police

Final Battle: Where the Streets Have No Name – U2

Death Scene: Underneath It All – Nine Inch Nails

Funeral Song: Enjoy the Silence – Depeche Mode

End Credits: All In Your Mind – Echo and the Bunnymen

June 15, 2007

Accentuation

I like to speak in strange voices randomly. Like the time the guy from a bottled water company wandered into our office and wanted to sell us on his brand of bottled water, and I replied in a thick southern drawl "No, suh. Doan' wanna waste yore tahm -- we use Aygulls Peak, ..." But by this time, everyone in my office, who know I don't have a southern accent were laughing their asses off, and I couldn't keep a straight face.

I don't know why I do it. I don't even really think about it -- it just sorta ... happens.

Accents that I do:

Russian, Scottish, Minnesotan/Canadian, Southern, South Philly, Bronx, Vaguely Foreign But I'm Not Sure Where From (usually after I start out with something else and forget what it was I was doing).

Today at Starbucks, the girl behind the counter asked me if I was Canadian. And I realized I was talking in a Canadian accent. Accidentally. I blushed and said, "Nah, just having a bit of fun."

She replied, "Well, I am Canadian..."

(Oops! What an asshole I am...)

But then she continued "And you did a real good accent. You had me fooled."

That was embarrasing and yet kinda pleasing at the same time.

Moral of the day: Not everyone who is acting like a jerk MEANS to act like a jerk. Show some love and let a jerk off the hook today.

June 14, 2007

Big Night

There is a scene in the movie "Big Night" where Stanley Tucci, as the maitre D (spelling?) of a struggling italian restaurant must convey to his brother (Tony Shaloub), the perfectionist artistic chef that a customer wants Pasta and Meatballs, along with her Risoto.

He doesn't want to. He tries to talk her out of the pasta, but she is insistent that the Risoto won't be enough. Reluctantly, he approaches his brother. (Apologies to anyone who might have this scene memorized -- this is my recreation of the scene from memory -- it is not a word for word dictation.)

"We need a side of pasta."

"Who wants it?"

"Whaddya mean, who wants it? It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters. If you don't tell me, I won't make it."

(silence)

"The woman with the risoto."

"She can't have it. It doesn't make sense -- starch with starch. Why don't I make her a side of mashed potatoes for the other side?"

"Just make the pasta."

"No. I need to talk to her."

"Fine! Go talk to her!" And he holds the kitchen door open.

I bring this up, because I am a project manager for a web strategy, architecture, and design firm. And it is my job, on a regular basis, to balance what the customer insists he/she wants with what our design experts and strategists know that they need. And frequently, my customers want starch with starch.

A lot of times, I am that expert as well, and I have to tell people that they can't have what they want -- like when they insist on storing customer credit card numbers in an unencrypted database. I tell them "No fucking way. You don't want that liability. I don't want that liability."

That's the nature of being a consultant. Companies pay my company money to have us come in and tell them what they're doing right or (more often) what they aren't doing right. Most of the time, the people who are doing it wrong are the ones who hire us.

Interesting thing: if you pay someone $10 for a meal, you are more likely to be convinced that you know better what you need than if you were to pay $150 for that meal. If you are paying $150, you assume that you are paying for a chef who knows her Risoto from her Pasta. Right?

Same goes for me. The clients who pay us less are much more likely to reject our recommendations than our customers who pay full price. It's all about perceived value.

But in my role as project manager, when a client insists that she wants something that is a huge design and user experience no-no, and I know that my creative director will go ballistic, I feel just like Stanley Tucci. If I tell them 'no,' they'll take their business elsewhere, and I will have failed them and my company. Yet, if I allow them to destroy their site, they'll keep their business with us. And I will have failed them. And my company.

Which is worse?

June 13, 2007

Bear Hug

"Get off of him, he doesn't like to be hugged."

Now, that's not true. I don't mind being hugged...

"Yes you do."

No, I don't. I like a hug. I just like to be released too.

(She rolls her eyes.)

What? I like to be hugged, but not restrained.

(More eye rolling.)

Okay. There are many things about me that I wish I could change. This is just one of them. It really bothers me that I can't figure out what the hell it is that I want. If I'm not being hugged, a hug sounds nice. If I am being hugged, though, I am soon ready to move on to the next item on my to-do list.

Much to her chagrin.

If I were an animal, I would be a bear. Generally genial if you leave me alone, but if I'm hungry, tired, or both, watch out. This is not a threat, it is a law of nature. And if you mess with me when I don't want to be messed with, I don't like it. And I have the tools I need to get you to stop whatever it is that you are doing. I don't want to cause any harm to anyone; I just want it to stop.

So, if I am cooking dinner. Or walking from the dining room to the kitchen. Or pretty much doing anything, consciously or unconsciously, and you want a hug, I can fit that in. But then I want to move on. And I can't when there is a person hanging from me.

The women in my house do not share this agenda. And although I understand their viewpoints, the eye-rolling makes me feel cold and callous. And I don't want to be cold and callous.

But maybe I am. Really. Deep down inside.

June 12, 2007

Freakin'

So, I have been thinking about this whole mindset I have going on with this blog, in which I am hiding behind a wall of anonymity, and wondering if this is the best path of action. I mean, in the back of my mind, I know that a lot of my friends don't really know me all that deeply, mostly because I keep my thoughts to myself. And I wonder whether I am being true to myself. Maybe I should just be upfront with this avenue of expression and let people out there decide for themselves if they think I am full of doo-doo or not, but not worry about what the reactions from people will be. Put my name on it -- tell people about it -- etc.

Here are the cons to that, as I see it:

* I could not write about my close friends, even using aliases, as they could very easily recognize themselves and maybe might not have a sense of humor about themselves. I don't ever intend to be hurtful, but there are definitely times when the truth hurts. And I have a few friends who are quite sensitive.
* I could not write about my family. At least not honestly. Again, its that whole "sensitive" thing.

On the other hand, should I let the potential reactions of a handful of hypersensitive whiners dictate my options? Should I just let my freak flag fly? Screw the lot of them?

Truly a quandary. Without them, who am I? With them, who am I?

What do you think?

June 11, 2007

I Am An Idiot

Every year, a local hospital holds a fundraiser -- a carnival. And they get the good folks of Scully's Amusements to come in and set up deathtrap rides and charge an arm and a leg to go on them.

Last year, I went with my two sons. I had my digital camera in my pocket and went on a ride that wedged me in. A bar pressed into my general upper-thigh, crotchal zone. The ride then threw me and my sons about. The youngest -- six at the time -- was being buffeted around like a sneaker in a dryer. With my right arm, I held him steady. With my left, I held onto what bar I could to hold me steady. And with every subsequent toss, I felt my camera crushing against my leg. Sure enough, my camera was DOA when I got off that ride. I managed to get it repaired though, and although I didn't ask for it, the folks at Canon did the repair under warranty. They SHOULDN'T have. But they did.

This year, I went to the fair, but I was smarter than last year. I had my camera in a pouch on my belt instead of wedged in my pocket. On the second ride, a thing that spins around and uses centrifugal force to make you feel woozy and ill, I felt myself being pushed against the side of the car, against my right hip. And I felt this strange bulge... My camera. Was. Getting. Crushed.

I managed to push myself away from the edge and move the pouch up along my belt, but it was too late. My camera -- the same camera as last year -- was toast.

This year, it seems that it was just the LCD panel. It still takes pictures, but you can't SEE them. And I found a link online guiding me to how to repair my camera's LCD panel for about $50. So, it isn't as bad as last year, I think, unless the big black spot means that my backlight is toast too. Which it could be.

But, I clearly am incapable of learning from my mistakes at times.

If I get a new digital camera, I'm getting one of those mondo SLR ones that I'll have to keep in a big bag and that will be big and bulky -- in other words, I won't forget about it until it is too late and it is being crushed under thousands of newtons of gravitational force.

Eight Things

Now that I have let the cat out of the bag about my friend Dave from Atlanta, I can now freely follow up on a topic idea he kind of plopped in my lap on his blog a few days back -- do a post listing eight things about yourself.

Seems like a reasonable request. So here ya'll are:

1. I am a perpetual oddball.

I recently realized that I have rarely, if ever, felt as though I fully belonged in any group I was a part of. School classes. Social clubs. Church groups. Even, lately, informal gatherings of friends and acquaintences. You know that Shel Silverstein book, The Missing Piece? For the most part, that is me. I am the missing piece, looking for my complementary shape.

In Rolling Stone magazine, when I was a kid, I saw an ad for a T-Shirt that said: "You ever get the feeling that the world is a closet of tuxedos and you're a pair of brown shoes?" I don't feel like that, because that denotes an inherent "betterness" in everyone else and a "worseness" in yourself, and I don't think that such values are there. But it is a real rarity when I find someone who I can just be open with and not have to worry about whether he/she will take every fifth comment that comes out the wrong way (or, as the case might be, the right way;)).

2. I have had many different types of jobs.

In looking over other people who have written blog entries like this, this seems to be a common theme. I think that this means that most people have tried a lot of different things to earn money. But my list includes the following, in order that they pop into my limited brain:

* Lawn care
* Retail sales
* Sheep farm hand
* Groundskeeper at a golf course
* Publications Assistant
* Building Contractor
* Unemployed Actor
* Computer Technical Support
* Research Assistant, Hamilton College English Department
* Pizza Delivery
* Mainframe Computer Operator
* ASP Programmer
* Database Developer
* Desktop Application Trainer
* Computer Based Training Developer
* Russian Linguist (in case you care, Posolxstvo is a Russian term)
* Intelligence Analyst
* Project Manager
* Technical Writer
* Application Architect
* Business Process Consultant

I have gotten paid to do all of these things at one time or another, except the unemployed actor thing -- which I was very good at. I was unemployed the WHOLE time.

3. I have participated in two world record breaking attempts.

In college, I was on a team that successfully beat the "Consecutive Swimming Marathon" record -- along with some 1600 other people.

In the military, in Hawaii, I was at one point on a team that was second in the world at the dubious event of pulling an unladen 737 25 feet. That lasted about twenty minutes.

4. If you’re only as old as you feel, at times I am 16 and at others I am 80.

Do I need to say anything more about this?

5. I hate being “sold.”

In a conversation with a friend recently, he who believes very strongly in the veracity of his church's doctrine, we reached a point in the conversation where we disagreed on a point. I simply asked a question which took a look at a doctrinal subject from a slightly different viewpoint. His response was to immediately denigrate my point of view as invalid. I felt a bit as though I were talking about a used car he was trying to sell.

"So, those tires look a little worn."

"In this climate, tires are supposed to be worn this time of year."

"Okay, what's that pinging noise in the engine?"

"Pinging? The engine's not pinging. See, in this model year, they used a polymer flange gromet on the sphincter joint. What you're hearing isn't pinging, but the normal response to high octane gas. It actually means that there's higher horsepower. If you had done your homework on this car, you would know that..."

See, I recognize it when someone is trying to baffle me with bullshit. I have an English degree for crying out load. And I don't like it. Just lay it out straight and let's both decide what works and what doesn't.

6. If I could have any talent at all that I currently don’t have, I would like to be able to sing well.

When I was a kid, I wanted to be Jim Morrison. Or Bruce Springsteen. Or, pretty much anyone who was making a lot of money singing. I wanted to be worshipped and loved.

But I sound like Jerry Lewis's bass-voiced cousin when I sing. Now, I happen to have a very nice SPEAKING voice, and have actually done voiceover work (non-paid, hence not in the previous list). But voiceover groupies aren't as hot as band groupies are.

7. At one point in my life, I seriously considered a career in the clergy.

But decided against it because the job didn't pay well enough.

Okay. Are you laughing at that one? What I really wanted to do was teach and help people, and I have done that in other capacities. But I bet I could have been an excellent pastor, although I would have felt like an imposter and eventually would have given it up.

8. I achieve almost every goal I set for myself.

Maybe this is because I set modest goals. But, I have this list of things that I want to accomplish before I die, and every year, I check several off that list. I have been on TV (if you stretch the point a bit, I have been on NATIONAL TV, as the camera panned over the audience of the Letterman show). I am published (Training manuals). I was in a band and recorded some very dismal awful music (I still have MP3's that I use to punish my underlings if they fail me). I wrote a screenplay (two actually, about 3/4 done with my third). I have bench pressed 1.5 times my weight (when I weighed 175). I have a family. I successfully changed jobs from being a desktop application trainer to a manager of a team of web application developers. When I need to lose weight, I lose weight. When I need to save money to buy something, I save money.

Things left to do: set foot in every state in the US. (about 2/3 of the way done with that). Go to Europe (going to France next May). Sell a screenplay (umm, keep checking back). Retire before I am dead.

"Splash"

When I first started writing this blog, I really didn't know what I was going to do with it, other than use it as an outlet for the varying strange thoughts that run through my head and that I never tell anyone. As I went on, I noticed that I was using it as a journal of sorts. And I recognized that if I was going to use it as such, my anonymity was vital to feeling comfortable writing what I really had on my mind.

Too often, the reasons why I don't have anyone to tell my weird thoughts to is because I have gotten such adverse reactions from those whom I have told in the past. (I believe it was in college when it was not uncommon for me to hear something akin to "You are the weirdest mother****er I have ever met!"1) I simply don't trust very many people with the workings of my brain.

The name of this Blog was then my somewhat ironic statement about the purpose. It is a paraphrase of a line I once heard about self-designated poets that went something like "Publishing a book of poetry and waiting for the fame is like ..." and the rest was a direct thievery on my part.

I honestly never expected to get a reaction, other than from the ONE person I told about it -- my spousal unit.

So... when someone left a comment on one of my posts a while back, I wasn't sure how to respond. Consider also that the response came after a few posts in which I was conveying some very personal and potentially disconcerting things about myself, and perhaps you can then understand why I was maybe a little concerned about this.

Now, I don't live in the blogosphere. I don't have a bunch of blogs bookmarked that I read regularly. Just a couple. And so I am not really well-versed in blogiquette. And so, I never really responded to that initial contact.

When the same user came back a few posts later and commented again, I was flattered. But cautious. Dave, you see, was as anonymous to me as I was to him. So, was Dave a normal guy? Or a stalker? Or was he (she?) a thirteen year old kid who still lived in his (her?) mother's basement?

It took my wife to finally point out that Dave has a blog of his own. And, unless he is lying in his little "About Me" blurb, he sounds like a pretty normal guy. And having read a few posts of his, I am now able to take his compliments in the proper context, and know that Dave knows whereof he speaks, as he writes pretty damn well himself. And much more often than me. (I am a bit jealous of him, since I also write "rather than working" but find precious little "rather than working" time anymore.)

So, I just wanted to tell all both of my loyal readers that I heard a splash. And it sounded pretty good.

1At the risk of sounding as though I have sold out, my wife told my eleven year old recently that I have this blog, but that I use "naughty language." On reflection, I have decided to only use profanity and "naughty language" when the situation really deserves it, and not just throw it out randomly.

June 01, 2007

a kind of memorial

I was out of town on Memorial Day this year, as I usually am. And even if I wasn't, I tend not to get too worked up by nationalistic and patriotic holidays, for reasons that I would hope that anyone who knows me or who has read one or more of my posts here might begin to fathom. Some people find that a bit incongruous, because I was at one time in the service -- during Desert Storm, as a matter of fact. And at that time, I was indeed pretty gung ho. Mind you, I was no marine, but I was pretty damn proud of being an American and all that.

But then, over the ensuing years, I changed. A little here, a little there. And now, I find myself recognizing that our form of democracy is the best system available. But it saddens me all the time to see just how flawed even this best system of goverment is.

So, when a friend of mine told me about an address that was given at the annual Memorial Day observance in town, and that it was given by a man who was as close to a real-life flesh and blood hero as I ever had, I was disappointed that I had missed it. As luck would have it though, it was recorded and published to the Internet for downloading. Which I did.

And I have been struggling with mixed feelings ever since. So, I apologize that this will not seem as cohesive as other posts I have made. In truth, I am still processing the speech, but I felt the need to share some of that processing with the world.

I should mention at this point that the speech in question was given by a man who is a retired Major General of the Marine Corps, and my former high school wrestling coach. So he has a slight prejudice that might or might not make sense, given his background.

The general premise of his speech was the following:

  1. like it or not, we're at war
  2. our fighting men and women are giving their lives to defend our right to go to the mall and forget that there is a war going on
  3. we are at war because we were attacked by Muslim extremists - it all started in 1979 when our Iranian embassy was taken over and 400 Americans were held hostage
  4. there is an increasing population of muslims in the world
  5. muslims in general support the use of terrorist activities to punish "infidels"
  6. muslims will continue to attack us because we are infidels
  7. an infidel is anyone who is not a muslim
  8. we cannot pull out. our only option in this war is victory, or they will follow us here and attack us in our homes
  9. peace is not an option
I didn't take notes as I listened, and I only listened to it once, so I may be misremembering a point or two, and I may have left a few salient points out.

I felt like crying when I listened to this. I was angry at the fact that my position on the war was being categorized as "disingenuous." I was saddened that there was so much hate rhetoric in a speech given by a man who, once-upon-a-time, I would have followed into the bowels of hell and back. And I was fearful at the implication that was made, although never actually stated, that we are in a position of "kill or be killed." In other words, if we don't annihilate every last living muslim, then we can assume that "they" will hunt us down, merely because we are not muslims.

Sounded like a call for a new holocaust to me.

And the center of my brain that performs calculations of logic has been screaming at me ever since... How is this possibly true?

A few thoughts. His assertion that (all?) muslims want to kill infidels because they are not muslim was backed up by a report written by a woman who was raised as a Christian in a muslim nation. And while I am not intending to presume that NO Christians were ever persecuted by ANY Muslims by virtue of the fact that they were not Muslims, I do wonder whether the woman's background might make her somewhat more predisposed to be prejudiced against Muslims. In college, I knew a young woman who was Jewish who told me under no uncertain terms that she would never set foot in Germany, and automatically disliked anyone if she found out that they were of German descent. I categorize this sort of reaction as irrational, but I understand the emotional ratioanale well enough to wonder if something similar might not be at work in this case as well.

His other assertion that x% of muslims polled stated that terrorist actions were justified lacked context. Given the right conditions, I would support the use of a nuclear weapon, but that doesn't mean that I can imagine a situation where we would allow ourselves to get in a position where those conditions existed. What were the questions that were asked? What were the actual responses? Would I have reached the same conclusions as he did were I able to view the source data?

In other words, I guess that I don't buy the idea that the majority of muslims are extremists. And that we are in constant 24/7 position of threat. In fact, originally the Muslims were the prototypes for religious tolerance. What was important, in the century or two after Mohommad was not that you were a muslim, but that you were a good and wise person. But I will allow that I don't have all the facts there, in this day and age. And maybe liberal Hollywood has addled my thinking. Or maybe I'm just naive.

But I do take exception to the assertion that the tensions in the middle east began with the Iranian hostage crisis. It seems to me that the muslim nations of the world have been subjected to outside forces coming in and messing with them for centuries, starting with the crusades, and ending with the forced formation of the state of Israel following WWII. Couple that with the fact that the land now has economic as well as religious significance, and you have a supersaturated solution of tensions, waiting for a flashpoint.

And it seems to me that the more we mess with the situation, the more we try to manipulate the muslim nations into being in our image, to complying with what is in our best interests, the more likely it is that someone is going to resent us. And resist. And fight back. So, like it or not, we're at war, but this could have been avoided if we had just left the middle east alone.

I know. We can't undo what has been done. We can't just let it alone. We have a tiger by the tail. We can't hold on. We can't let go. "Kill or be killed."

Well forgive me if I won't particpate in a holocaust. And forgive me if I choose to reject the notion of "kill or be killed." And forgive me for holding out hope for a peaceful resolution that will allow both sides to stop worrying about annihilation.