Wednesday, December 31, 2008

holiday blues


so, is this what it feels like to really be relaxed.  is it supposed to feel this strange and foreign?  i am in a country where the language is 98.7% compatible with my native dialect.  i can understand everyone as they speak, at most it's no more than two "excuse me"s to come to comprehension; and then accept that our common language has its limits.

i am feeling great, the climate, cuisine and culture are working for me.  my upper back is cramped and a massage, hot tub and breathing exercises are not helping.  i am starting to think that it's the lack of stress has just become too much for me.  i feel like the door on an airplane which developed micro-fractures from the continued take offs and landings of life without proper maintenance.  i can hear a former boss saying, "this is the week you are going to snap"  but, the answer is still the same, "not now, not ever".  i will not explode over the the ocean and allow passengers to be sucked out into free fall.  

explosions happen when you quickly depressurize, i have come in slowly; this week is easing me into focus with my inner bohemian.  today is a rainy-day on a beach vacation; and i am beyond happy with the weather. it allows me sit in cafes all day and feel zero guilt over feeling zero guilt.  i just need a way to sustain the holiday vibe long after pendulum has swung back to the real world point of imperfect-balance.  

i walked into a guitar store this morning.  i have been thinking about the travel guitar i almost bought in AMS.  i knew there was no way i would find an item like this in a place that has no traffic lights, but i went in anyway.  stu, my new scots/aussie musical guru, first suggested a hand-made mandolin as the perfect travel companion.  but i picked up an electric guitar and drunkenly stumbled through a 12-bar blues.

he read where i wanted to go, took the guitar and showed me how to get there.  the lesson had me feeling good about building a skill i failed to acquire 30 years ago. i was locked in when he said, "it comes from inside, don't try to push this in with a book, feel it from inside and you will have it".  i have a new guitar and amp, let the other guests in the hotel beware, the worst blues man on the planet has moved in. true blood disk 4 and my little black electric will be my sober new years celebration.

so here is the way i will keep balanced.  i have come down a long winding road, i have ended up on an empty beach and have realized i could have the blues.  the economist i read on the plane explained "why we love music".  the thesis was that, like language (which it may be related to), it's evolutionary for us to have music.  if darwin and stu are right, the blues are within me, i can simply open up and let them out.  it's funny though; opening up is not always the most natural thing for me to do.

no pressure, this is holiday and letting the blues out is the release i need.


Tuesday, December 30, 2008

re-hab rules

i am closing the year out as far from work, life and stress as i could go not need to wear a parka and duck penguins.  i did as close to no planning for this trip as humanly possible.  it was very simple; the weeks aligned as though it was a sign from god, there was a thing to do, and a friendly travel agent pointed me in the right direction.  when you need to recover from a crazy year, and prepare for the next wave, a beach on the edge of the gold coast is an easy choice.

sitting in the MAS lounge in KLIA i looked up and saw one of the staff looking at me while she talked to her friend.  they both blushed and smiled when i looked up.  when i went to get a glass of wine i asked what they were talking about.  one of them said, "i think you are handsome.  you have a nice face."  it was my turn to blush.  i said "thanks, that's nice" and went to have my wine.  i wondered if that was the high point for the trip.

three flights, each progressively worse as the planes and airports got smaller and time dragged on.  the last flight was spent wedged into the economy seat trying to stretch my cramped neck.  i decided to just ignore the pain and go to sleep, waking up just before landing in the worlds smallest airport.  i got to experience a landing that felt like the pilot was rushing his mini cooper into a spot in a busy parking lot.  i decided that moment was the last bit of tension i would feel for the week.  we were down, now i could just recover.

a beautiful drive 60 km up the coast, with a roadside wardrobe change to shed the jeans and button down for cargo shorts and sandals, was capped by a check-in where the only issues were deciding on the length of the massage to be scheduled for the next day, and the fact that aussie and american are only mostly the same language.  

for dinner i found mexican and was invited to share a table with a lovely aussie woman; one who had lived in the US so communication was far from an issue.  not planning a thing, and ending up in the best mexican place on an entire continent, finding a wonder dinner companion and enjoying hours of conversation was more than i would have hoped for during the entire week.  being smiled at in KLIA was slipping down the ranking in high points.

back to the room, jacuzzi tub, shower, another chapter of "good germs, bad germs" and dvds of my favorite serial killer followed by louisiana vampires and the night was over.  the morning started with bright sun, a call home to check on my bug and a run to burn the flights off.  when i got back i asked about a coffee place and was told to try re-hab.  the name made me smile, the place is even better.

i am sitting in a coffee house that could easily be on the beach in california. there is music going, the coffee is strong, the internet pass is cheap and they have banana bread.  i am beginning to ask myself why i would ever leave here.  coffee, music, books, internet, beautiful empty beaches, good mexican for dinner and comfort foods that are "no nut" but almost as good as i remember.

if anyone asks, i am in rehab; and its the best thing i have done all year. 

Sunday, December 28, 2008

fast break

i woke up this morning thinking about breakfast.  a dinner of indian food had my stomach upset and necessitated a double benedryl nightcap.  this morning, i just needed to get up and get to breakfast.  it was calling to me, "come, sit, relax, put the reactions behind you".  when asked if i thought breakfast was important, and i replied, "it's the most important meal of the day", it sets the tone for the rest of the day.

when i think of breakfast i have two visions in my head.  the first is of bill cosby explaining to an inner-city diverse group of kids that their bodies are engines which need to be fed so they run well.  if you don't feed the engine it will stop running, you will run out of gas and will be unable to get through the day.  the second is sharing a six-burner stove with cartoons in the background to fill a sunday morning before games and errands took over the day.

breakfast is something i now do while spinning through email and making phone calls to catchup on overnight events.  it's not unknown for me to start a morning with multi-continent conference calls and espresso.  the surprising thing is that the conference call is the stimulation and the espresso is used to calm the jolt of the day. 

while in the US, weekday breakfast was either rushed starbucks with their marginal carbohydrate offerings, or on a bagel day, a sweet danish and a comfortable pause.  bagel days weren't everyday, because they were special; they meant taking a fast pause in the day.  the danish was good, but taking a few moments and realizing that it mattered more than the need to rush was the real break.

weekends in KL are a busy, not as busy as the week but they take focus to get though.  a deli afternoon, one with a sweet start, some time to detox and music to set the mood is my preference.  more important than the food is the mood, it is relaxed and easy.  the fact i can go and simply think, work, write and rationalize the time away is what draws me.  this is my private time; it is my personal work/life balance.

lunch during the week is normally skipped, or will happen as an office meeting.  dinner is squeezed in before a kitchen closes, and is wifi-enabled to stop it from getting in the way of communication.  the difference between these meals and my most important meal of the day is that the early one is harder to miss, it sets the tone for day and is a hard requirement.  it can't be called in ahead and is not "tau pow"-able, because it's time, not food that matters.  it does bring energy, but not the carbohydrate type.

cosby was right, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.  it is a time to rev up, you can pour in the caffeine, and customize your energy with something sweet or savory.  you can have meetings, or go solo to find your focus.  but no matter what choices you make, you must ensure that your breakfast supports your needs for the day and gives you the energy that you require; even if its a fast break that you need to take.

because that's what breakfast is, the most balanced meal of the day. 

Friday, December 26, 2008

trophy life

i was interviewed for a show on RTM this morning. don't be impressed, the show was on breakfast in KL and i was picked because i am white and round. the woman who was producing the show sat and talked to me afterwards, one of the things we discussed was how people show themselves to the world. this reminded me about asking why malaysians are so focused in brand items. the fascination with watches, bags, cars and sunglasses is something i don't understand. especially, given the fact that all of these items are outrageously overpriced when compared to buying them outside of the land of datuk protectionist taxes.

i sit in cafes and compare the lifestyles i see in front of me with the financial realities. after three years i have a grasp of the fiscal weight most of the people here live under. they are eating out in cafes priced for expats, driving cars which cost three times more here than they do on the world market, and carry designer bags sold at twice the retail price in the US. but they have salaries which do not support this rock and roll lifestyle.

i watched a movie the other night where a central character was in his childhood bedroom with his future fiancee. she finds the trophies of his youth buried in a draw and asks why he does not display them. he shyly rubs MVP on one of them with his thumb; brushing the dust off, before he closes the drawer. this scene is meant to show that he doesn't view the trophy as achievement because they came to him so easily, but it also shows that he is who he is without needing to remind the world.

the items we collect, those we invest time and effort in having and keeping, provide a window into us. when you look at my spaces you see books. i have them at home and in the office, i will point to a book and discuss the theme. in the virtual world, i do this with my photos and writing, these are the things that are me because i created them. i was there, i saw that image, i had that thought. they are the threads that make up part of the my fabric.

but these things aren't the core of that fabric. they are the items of display, much like the overpriced designer bags and gaudy watches that are the rage here. they are not the things that i consider a victory worth being proud of.

i realized this morning that "boxing day" is for choosing which items will stay on display and which you will put into the closet. as the year closes, you have new things to show-off and others to put away so they don't take up space on the shelves. when you look at my shelves in addition to my books you see polytheistic statues from trips around asia and pictures of my family.

central on the shelves, and within me, are the moments captured in the pictures. a few days ago i realized i have not changed the pictures in three years. they are the same images i displayed when i first got here. i have new pictures of "my family", but i have no new "family" pictures. my family are the trophy's of my life. they are the things that give me identity and make me proud of who i am. this is why i give then center stage.

but like the trophy's in the movie they are collecting metaphorical dust. theses pictures are of a past which is slipping away. i travel and capture "the faces of the world". it's a project i love, and work i am happy with.  its also something i never thought i would have the chance to do. i never thought i would make the choices needed, even if i did have the chance.

trophies traditionally represent success, success that brings later opportunity. but, sometimes opportunity also comes from failure. the opportunities i have taken have been to photograph strangers, the opportunity i hope i still have is to take new pictures of my family, and love them as much as i love the ones that they will replace.

these trophies are much more precious than an LV bag; at least to me.

Thursday, December 25, 2008

smoke break

i grew up in a family of smokers, nana, the aunts and my mother would sit around the kitchen table sipping saucers of coffee and puffing on newports amid their conversation. my father smokes a cigar and a pipe, but occasionally has a socially-pressured cigarette. i have smoked exactly half of one cigarette, and ended the experience with vomit splashing among the clouds of smoke.

i watched a show last night where a transplant surgen needed his pre-teen bundle of joy to remind him that he was smoking on his way to the hospital to replace a lung. someone asked me why i never smoked. i tried to explain the first and last of my tobacco experiences and that i pick my addictions. given my recurrent history of upper respiratory events, i have never really thought i would need to explain not smoking. pictures of tar in lungs and mouth cancer during health class honestly were enough for me to be convinced of the choice.

i have close friends who smoke, and i am not saying that smoke has never touched my lungs, but i honestly do not understand the habit. i was told i was judgmental two years ago. wow, it has almost been two years. this was following the construction of a rule that smoking needed to be outside and had to be followed by a toothbrush. i was trying to move to compromise, but when i think about it i see how this could be taken.

i am sitting in a cafe, tucked two tables from the door so i have the aircon and the breeze coming in from outside. i have fans over head, and music beating from the elevated speakers. its a nice way to spend an afternoon. other than the clouds of smoke billowing from the smoke stacks of the chinese guys sitting on either side of me. thankfully, the table of 4 who where "happily" exchanging christmas gifts is gone. you would think someone focused on health and fashion would know better than to puff though the day,

the bored business men types are actually worse, they tend to chain smoke while they are loudly discussing their business deals, and attempting to give advice so the other patrons know they are in the game. the clouds of smoke sometimes appear to be smoke signals to communicate with those too far away to be forced to overhear the conversation.

the US began the elimination of second hand smoking 20 years ago. this movement started in the liberal west, came to the east and then squeezed the rest of the country with enlightened rationalism. this same movement then conquered most of europe; and recently over took the institutional resistance in cloudy belgium.

as i write this, an new chinese guy at the table left of me just finished his healthy green apple juice, went to get a GQ from rack so he can read about fashion and culture, and broke out a smoke to hold with relaxed abandon. i hopefully look to the right and see a box of dunhill waiting for the iced coffee to be drained before the nicotine is taken.

my open air cafe simply does not have enough open air. my inhaler is at home in my messenger bag and i can feel my lungs closing. the gentle cough that is used in the US to ask someone to blow their smoke into their loved ones faces, rather than the strangers at the next table, does not seem to translate to asia. i guess its time to pack up and go before the gentle cough of message becomes one of inflamed irritation.

i need to make a move; to escape my second-hand smoking.

love actually

it's christmas day in cloudy KL, other than the less than congested parking situation this morning, you would never know it was a special day. i received my first verbal merry christmas from a malay waiter, one who has no idea what the holiday means to the west. i considered going to midnight mass last night, but went for roti cania at my local mamak after the julia child era western restraurant i had dinner in simply did not hit any of the spots i was hoping for. the day is moving along smoothly, brunch of chuck's eggs and espresso will be followed by a massage to release the tension burning in my shoulder and then home to call the kids and watch a holiday movie.

the choice i have for a christmas movie is either a dysfunctional NPR family which is answers why the family is "so special" with "we're not, we are just all we have", and a film built from novella's of love stories that intersects at an arrival gate. the choice here is pretty easy, the NPR family was watched 4 times in 3 days last week. it is a movie that brought me to tears on an airplane three years ago, but now helps me with homesickness. the more foreign movie will get nod this afternoon based on my need to see two people who speak different languages have a conversation that makes sense.

the basic premise of this movie is that arrival gates at an airport represent one of the most wonderful places on earth. they are a location of egalitarian equality, where people of all colors, religions, professions and nationalities stand next to each other and wait for their traveler to come down from the sky and reenter thier lives. they are special places; i have seen almost shy hand shakes between people who should have grabbed each other with passion, children scramble up on to a trolley full of luggage to jump into their fathers arms and normally reserved people picked up and swung with joy.

i walk through airports with the stride of someone who has a frequent flier gold card in my pocket. i know the location of business class lounges, transit counters and preferred coffee locations in 9 timezones. but, i have realized why the love actually moment is a central plot point of the movie i will watch on my KL christmas. it is because the moment of being there when someone gets off an airplane is more about giving than receiving, it's about showing the person you are there for them at the very first moment possible. if it weren't for security gates and machine guns you might have met them at the gate, standing among the queue of welcomers is the best you can do.

the sienfeld moment is when someone asks you for a ride from the airport and you need to construct a reason for not being there. the love actually moment is exactly the opposite. it is about being there early, having sent a welcome sms so they know you have not forgotten them, and then smiling and showing them you care when they do come to you safely. these are moments that matter, and they are the christmas spirit that you can show all year long.

i am going to relax and enjoy my KL christmas. it's a comfortable day, there is no stress or pressure. i have come to terms with the lack of turkey because of the 5 day waiting period that is required when ordering holiday dinner here; normally i associate waiting periods like this with purchasing a handgun, but apparently even restuarants connected to expat grocery stores are not able to plan for the busy matsalleh who does not think about stuffing a week before the the meal. it will not matter, i am going home to watch a movie about an aging rocker, a adolecent drummer, a lonely minister, a blocked writer and a guy who was born in the wrong country.

collectively, they do show that love actually is everywhere.


/************************************************
the scenes i enjoy the most are those with two people who triumph because they learn to speak each others language. they prove that more than being there, learning to open up and communicate is what matters. well those and when the girl naturally says "f@#$" in front of the prime minister.
************************************************/

Sunday, December 21, 2008

craving comfort

five or six years ago, i started every morning with a double hit of a steroid inhaler. this was a prescriptive act resulting from constant bouts of inflamed lung tissue and periods of unexplained illness. it was part of managing a condition i didn’t really understand, but one clue led to the next until i realized the things that i craved the most were the ones that were making me sick.

i have strange allergies, strange in the sense that the more i want something the more it makes me sick. being an irish catholic kid who loves asian/indian food and microbrew beer, or who started his day with a vente latte, made it all that much harder when i realized potatoes, rice, yeast and milk made me sick. i went to the people i loved and told them what i thought this was the cause, they thought i was nuts, but i removed the items from my plate anyway.

when you do something like this, you are not sure how you can live without the things you love. they are part of you, part of your day, they make you happy. irish catholics use food and beverage to celebrate events, and to assist in mourning. you ask yourself, how can you cut the comfort from your life? where would you find the strength?

day one is just strange; day two is worse; day three the cravings begin. people around you are helping but it doesn’t make it any easier that you are living in an uncomfortable place of self-denial. how can you deal with the feelings of need? on day seven, you wake up and you realize you slept through the night and feel rested. you also realize you can breathe, for the first time in over a year, you can get a full breath of air when you wake up. you pick up your inhaler but put it back down; it’s the last time in years you need to start your day with a pipe full of medication.

fast forward a few years, you are in a new place in life. you don’t have the foods you have come to rely on, you have all new things to pick from which at first is great, but you realize these come with a cost. they are causing the same reactions you suffered from in the past. so you look for things that are more like home. you can’t find a perfect match, but you find items that give you a warm feeling of comfort. the downside is they also cause issues and the ones you really enjoy are more expensive and harder to find. cravings are there, and you question if these things are good for you or not. is health or comfort what you really want?

how is it that even when we know better, the things that we desire are the things that make us sick. they make it so we can’t breathe; they take our sleep away, leave us feeling itchy and scratchy. but we still want them. is the immune response a result of prior overindulgence, or is it protection against future potential damage?

does our body know things we have not yet realized? or are we just a set of systems that we need to work harder understand? life and diet would be so much easier if your head made the immediate connection; i ate that, i got sick, maybe i should stop eating it.

but have you tried the aloo tikki at saffron? it’s a mix of crispy crunch and starchy pleasure that could be denied by itself, but when you add butter chicken, garlic batura and mango lasse… there is no chance to walk away.

i am craving comfort, i want to taste the things i love. bring on the benedryl.

getting started

i am having some serious issues getting started lately. i want to start things, i want to be productive, i wake up thinking about the day and the things i am going to do. i am carrying books around with me, i have software to write, i have shopping to do and all i want to do is sit in a comfortable spot and hide from the world. i have a trip coming up, one that i have a week of downtime and then a week of work. the downtime is edging dangerously close to being a week of sitting in an airport. i haven't booked a hotel at the beach, or a flight that will take me from the airport when i land there early. i just can't seem to get beyond the conceptual stage of planning.

i promised i am going to take this time to burn off some of the crust that has built up over the past few months. my allergic coughing has slipped back to remission, it is now something i can keep at bay by closing windows and monitoring what i put in my mouth. but i feel the pain in my chest and know that one wrong move and it will start over and i will be living with the autoimmune reaction of rejecting the things i crave.

what am i doing? i am sitting, reading, writing and basically hiding. i find it easier to stay with the things i know than venture off into the things i don’t know. thoughts of snow storms, cold drives and plows have been intruding into the warmth of KL. as friends sit in traffic i am walking from one cafĂ© to the next, looking for a stable internet connection to send an email or post a blog entry.

the year is coming to an end, the holiday break is about to start, vacation plans need to be started, and projects need to be finished. here is the issue, i am not sure if i am at the beginning of something or the end. it would be easier if i had my plans worked out, but what i have is a list of to-dos, no firm deadlines, along with the ability to choose to simply not focus on it now.

how do you get started when you really just want do absolutely nothing? i have been called a procrastinator in the past. i just looked on wikipedia to see what it has to say about the term:

Procrastination is a type of behavior which is characterized by deferment of actions or tasks to a later time. Psychologists often cite procrastination as a mechanism for coping with the anxiety associated with starting or completing any task or decision. Psychology researchers also have three criteria they use to categorize procrastination. They believe that procrastination must be counterproductive, needless, and delaying.

in the very first paragraph i find that this is not an issue. two of the three required criteria take me fully off the hook. doing nothing is exactly what i need right now, it is neither counterproductive nor needless. as i began the day today i realized i need this more than i had understood. i have slept more in the past three days than i have in any single week since i got back to the country. i have been able to focus on nothing at all. i have been able to put plans aside and find a quiet place inside.

i realize rather than not getting started, the past few days have been about being fully engaged in one thing; recovering from the past few months. the year is ending, i am thinking about the storms in the US and being on the beach. next year is going to be different, it will be busy, things will come and go, the lines of communication and directions will change. but that is not something to focus on right now. for now it’s simply time to stop and reflect.


i am happy i have finally found the time to prioritize this lack of obvious direction. but you know what... i better book that flight and hotel, or i will never find nemo.

Saturday, December 20, 2008

np-complete

i wrote an entry last week discussing perfection. nobody’s perfect (np) was not meant to take the track it did. the thoughts that were lingering were over taken by the events of the day, so the writing followed the terrain rather than the map. the thing is, the map is still out there needing to be read. "no longer young rob", this ones for you.

two of my best friends have told me in under a month that they are getting married. being invited to weddings of the people you most want to see happy in the world is a good thing… right? it’s a time for you to realize that there is love in the world, and that people can find happiness. having people you love find love themselves should be the opposite of a death in the family, it should be the goodness that proves the world is a happy place.

this should be even more true with the two people are those that you wondered if they would ever tie the knot. but somehow the impending happiness has not given me the warm and fuzzy feelings that i expected them to. rather their announcements have reminded me of complex algorithms with large data sets.

computational complexity theory is not an issue that most liberal arts majors turned software consultants trying to make a buck are concerned with. it takes exposure to someone interested in considering and measuring these things to even know what algorithm analysis is. my practical approach had always been, see a new solution and then test the algorithm with varying inputs that modeled the actual use. this does work well when the inputs and results are well understood, but begins to break down as datasets grow.

years ago i was standing over an engineer, watching him do algorithm analysis on a sorting problem. i asked what the issue was, there was someone else waiting for a code solution and scribbling on paper was not getting that person his fix. the engineer looked up at me and explained that the current solution would not scale to big datasets. the practical side of my personality, and the bullheaded side of my nature took over. i asked how many elements were in the current set… the answer was 6. i asked how many we could expect worst case, with a shy look the engineer told me 100. even this was a stretch, but i loved this guy and i smiled. “do you think we can just code this up and not worry about it?”

that’s what we did, and the waiting person got his fix, things moved forward. the thing is i have come back to this moment in my career over and over. i didn’t listen all the way through. i simply pushed for a solution, which at the time was the right thing, but i lost the opportunity to grasp the implications of driving large datasets though an inherently inefficient algorithm. the larger lose is not having learned the way to prove the efficiency of the algorithm in the first place.

being able to accept that i am going to production with a less than perfect algorithm is part of my personality and my career. just in time development, dealing with the problem at hand and working in a highly triage based method is part of who i am. return on investment and risk verse reward are central themes. i will not spend time tuning to save cpu if i am not short on cpu, hardware is cheap and scaling with hardware is easier than spending the time to analyze and find perfection.

the truth is, there is almost never a perfect solution. solutions need to be created based on the situation, on the conditions and on the problems you are trying to solve. i now realize the sets of data have grown. i cannot rely on the fact that there will be a very limited set of data that is easy to look at and analyze. the data analysis grows with the set of data, and the need for efficiency now outweighs the need for perfection.

the need for perfection is most likely not a requirement in the first place. jpeg as my preferred graphic file format and is a lossy algorithm. it is the standard that most people use for all their graphics needs, and its popularity is partially due to its balance of quality over expense. the less than perfect results are acceptable to lower the resource consumption. in many cases this is more than acceptable, it’s the only way to solve the problem.

i have best friends who have selected the most important algorithm of their lives, they have either limited the set of data, or found an efficient way to get to the quality that they need. the world is a large and complex place. in two weeks it is very possible i will have all three of us in one place, i am going to force a discussion of algorithm analysis to take place.

nobody’s perfect, but deciding on what is good enough is what we will help each other with.


it still didn't go the way i expected... i love writing.

personal best

i was talking to a friend yesterday. it was a day that we were both taking it slow, getting away from work and just recovering from the past few months. we were discussing work, society, opportunity and design. he wants to take more on, and i want to see him grow. knowing there is potential and that pushing forward will get you there is really important to a type-A personality. during the conversation i started to wonder when it was that i came to the reality that continuing to work even when you are far behind is worth it.

i came up with 7th grade. the year i joined the track team, the time that i learned that you are not running against your competition, but you are running against yourself and the clock. to admit this in the kindest manner possible, i was not a natural runner when i started. i am a swimmer and a cyclist by nature, these are the sports i enjoy. sure both make me wonder if i am going to die at times, being a half mile off shore, with waves breaking over my head and realizing that i am too tired to make it back to the beach does bring the reality of drowning front and center. i haven’t drowned yet, my chest hasn’t exploded climbing a hill, but i do wonder at times.

when i started running track the pain of 440s over and over was brutal. i wanted to quit, i wanted to give up because it was just too much effort for something was supposed to be fun. but i decided to stay one more week. i had friends next to me; they would smile when i crossed the line not laugh, the smiles kept me there. a few weeks later i realized i was getting better, my times were dropping and i was getting ahead of my friends. the ability to improve took the pain away, now the pain was worth it because as i got better the pain came with winning. i learned that winning takes the pain away.

over the years i have done other sports, some i was a natural at they fit my personal mix of size, speed and pain tolerance. i have done individual sports and team sports. i have done sports for myself and for others. i have enjoyed some, and hated a few, but other than wind surfing i have never really given up without trying hard enough to learn to enjoy them. (i can sail, i can surf, i can’t do them at the same time)

the way i have done this is to accept that sure, i suck at this sport. it hurts, and i am not enjoying this right now. but if i give up i will never get good at this. if i keep going i will get a little better than i am now, and i can call that a victory. using the personal best method, i can measure myself and then work to beat that. forget about the other guy, most of the time he is happy he is in the lead and will think it’s his place to own. if i focus on him, i keep losing. if i focus on me… i can win almost every time, until i get to the point where i am closing in, that’s when i can change the focus and make him the personal best goal.

i said yesterday that malaysia needs to have its kids doing track and field. track is a simple sport, cheap as shorts, t-shirt and sneakers; easy to do in warm climates. i had visions of malaysians crossing the finish line in boston; arms up in victory. the nigerians made distance running their sport, they proved that hot and dusty countries that have limited resources and smaller kids who need a sport without contact can excel at track.

i was also thinking the country would benefit from teaching its kids that competition is useful, that pushing through the pain, that being measured by a clock are good things. if you’re not willing to measure yourself, how can you get any better? there is no way to improve against the clock if you don’t have a clock running. being as good as you are, and being happy with that just means that you can never compete outside your little comfortable world.

i listened to my daughter this morning excited that her picture was in the local newspaper. she is on the front-page for swim team. i remember the first season that she swam, long ago in her youth. she wanted to quit because she thought she wasn’t any good. we explained it wasn’t that she needed to be good, it was that she needed to enjoy it. she has grown up over the years, and has moved from lane to lane improving every step along the way. she told me about a race where she was against two swimmers who made regional; she got lapped and came in third but she was happy with that.

she was making a point that the team the two swimmers were from was very good. she said, “do you know their team record for the 500 free?” . i paused and answered, “4:40”. she paused and said, “4:44, how did you know that, you were only off by 4 seconds”. she wanted to know if that was my personal best. i laughed, not even close.

but i used to swim and i know what “good” swimmers can do. i don’t need to beat them, i just need to close the gap.

depressed muffin

the best thing about living in asia used to be how happy people were to help with special requests. the “have it your way” tag line started with a burger place in the US, it was a reaction to the major competitor, who doesn’t take special orders. number one serves it one way, fast and with a smile, but special orders would break down the efficiency of their production line. have it your way was a method of differentiating to the customer, saying we care about you more.

a number two player does need to find a way to show they bring value in a way that the big players do not. they cater to the customer, they listen to what is needed for them to succeed and they give that. when they don’t, they are not a number two player, they are a former player. this is just the way things are, they are the way things need to be. when you compete, you need to find an edge to push your fingers into and then pull up hard so you can reach the next edge.

hanging on the side of a cliff by your fingers and not moving… this just doesn’t sound like a fun afternoon to me. getting to the top and letting my arms rest, letting the fear of failing and adrenaline of success escape as i breathe and look out over the horizon. that sounds much better to me.

i have a favorite breakfast place. i have friends here; people stop by knowing i will be around. its fun and comfortable. the staff is always ready to help. the downside to hanging around the same places all the time is that you start to get sick of the menu, it seems like it’s just the same thing over and over. even favorites that you normally love begin to be a chore to enjoy. so i have traded my blueberry pancakes for a blueberry muffin.

the downside is that i want my muffin “toasted on the grill”. this is the way i loved the blueberry muffins of my youth. i would sit with nana in a booth at “the creamery” and she would sip coffee while i had a muffin. they would cut the muffin from the top, one slice down the middle, and grill the flat sides to a toasty crunch. the insides would melt in my mouth along with the butter they left to soak into the warmed muffin.

i have told this story, explained the needs, and with a smile was told “okay no problem”. the muffin that was handed to me today was micro-waved. i smiled, and asked them if they could take it back and grill it. the kitchen should know how to do this, they did it yesterday. i waited and the muffin came back again… micro-waved but with butter added…. i sat wondering what i was supposed to do now. i have been clear what is needed, i have followed up and corrected the situation when it was wrong, the directions are not hard, the people are smiling at me when they say “here you go, just the way you wanted it”, but it’s not the way i wanted it, it’s the way they would have done it if i had never asked them to do it another way.

i picked the muffin up and went to the kitchen. i talked to the chef and asked him if he could grill the muffin for me. he said sure… but i can sense that being asked to do something differently is not what he wanted in his day. the smiles that normally show when asked any request was there, but the fact that it was forced was clear. it could be that i am getting better at picking up the micro-tells on this, but i also think its that the community is tired of being asked. (i was nice... really)

this is a down economy, times are tough. places are competing and the competition is going to become more and more direct. looking over and seeing a smile saying yes, i will do it your way, and then finding it’s done the same way no matter what is not the way to work through this market. it is the way to lose the customer and the business.

my muffin came back grilled, it was crispy on the outside and the insides did melt in my mouth. but next time i am going back to my pancake. the pancake is the real comfort food for me, and it’s just easier to have done right the first time. the pancake seems happy to have made it to my plate, while the poor muffin comes feeling like it is unappreciated and abused. they both get the job done, but the ease of process with the pancake is more satisfying.

thinking back to the US and its burger places, i don’t go to the “have it your way” place, i go to the number one player. because with them i am not forced to always tell them what i want, they just do it right the first time. being willing to take a special order is important, but knowing how to get it right and actually wanting to get it right are even more important.

after three years here, the smiles are not enough; sending the muffin without it being depressed from the grilling is what i really need.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

nobody's perfect

i have been thinking a lot about perfection lately.  work, personal life and friends and family all have brought these thoughts forward.  i was talking to a friend yesterday and realized that anything other than perfection would never be enough for her.  i asked and she confirmed it.  things had to be perfect or she could not be happy.  but, without slipping into an discussion of the shadows at the back of plato’s cave, the very idea of attaining perfection is an issue.  how can anyone mature enough to have seen that life requires flexibility attempt to hold onto the idea that perfection is possible.

i work in a very aggressive and competitive environment.  the need to be on top of one’s game at all times is almost oppressive.   when things do go wrong, you question yourself and ask what you could have done to see the issue and make a correction.  but the reality of the situation is, there is no way to do it.  even working 90+ hours a week for months on end is not enough to get to the level of “perfection” you might impose on yourself.

i was working on the direction for next year, and added “admit we can’t do everything” to the list of things we needed to change within the team.  i meant it as literally admitting we are not omnipotent; to allow people to step back and accept that they should take a breath and relax when that is needed.  the less direct message would be because we cannot do everything, we will prioritize the things that matter and ensure we do those well.   rather than gaining perfection, i was pushing for simple improvement and to get back to a place where the things that mattered were held as important.

when i was younger i quoted thomas paine who said, “consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds”.  the first time i did this was when my father was standing in my room asking me why my desk was always such a mess.  he was angry that i allowed it to get this way.   he told me he was embarrassed for me.  his argument was that i could not find anything.  we tested the theory, he named an item, i reached directly into a pile and pulled it from among the rubble.  i told my father that i didn’t need external order, because i could manage it internally.  we agreed i would keep my deck covered so he couldn’t see it.  not a perfect solution for either of us, but one that was good enough to let us co-exist without frustration and embarrassment.

i have a friend who i love to talk to.  we bump into each other and we discuss religion, education and life.  her mind is amazingly interesting because she mixes deep belief with openness and flexibility.  the flexibility seems to be the depth of her inner strength and core beliefs.  it is clear that allowing herself to be who she is and considering her actions allows her to understand what her fundamental needs are.  being educated and intentional is more important than being simply fundamentalist.

i have another friend who is discovering who he is.  it is possible that he is someone he might not choose to be, and who some others may not understand or accept.  the realization that you are different, that you will never match the ideal that society programs us to mimic, can be horribly difficult.  the only defense to this is realizing that the things that make you different are the things that give you strength.  if people ask you to turn your back on your strengths, it's because they want to weaken you. the worst thing you can do is allow them to succeed.  

allowing someone to upset you gives them to the power to control you.  by accepting your differences you have the power to not become upset, this gives you control.  it does mean you need to learn to accept when people point out your differences, and admit they are there.  not perfect, but better than the alternative.

everyone i know, my closest friends and family each have strengths and weaknesses.   watching them to accept those strengths, and to learn to compensate for the weaknesses is what makes life beautiful.  seeing someone struggle with attempting to cover weakness, and not being able to embrace their strengths makes me pray that they will allow themselves to be happy by accepting themselves.

i am in my forties, i have a list of things to do in my life, and i already know some of them will never happen; i am not in control of my destiny on these items.  i also know that given who i am, i will never remove them from the list.  it is more important for me to keep goals i can never attain than to give up and lower the bar.

that might not be perfection, but it is who i am.  being stubborn and willing to endure pain while fighting against impossible odds is both strength and weakness; honestly i am fine with that about myself.  do you know why?  

nobody’s perfect.  

Saturday, December 13, 2008

analytical view

i had an email from a friend come in yesterday. one of the things it said was that they did not want to be analyzed. i was told by someone a few years ago that i was very judgmental for a person who promised not to judge. when creating the profile for this blog, answered who i am with “a liberal arts major, turned software engineer who doesn’t get to code anymore; now focused on debugging life”. that sentence does capture me, but it may need to be explained to be understood.

i attended a catholic “liberal arts” college and was given a dual major, at a school that does not have dual majors. it was almost accidental that i have this achievement. i simply enjoyed two subjects that i recognized were really one subject presented from two different world-views. reading the same works, and being told they had different meanings or messages was fascinating. the fact that the same work has a different meaning two doors down a corridor than it did in last semester's room was not lost on a searching mind that naturally questioned all information; especially when presented as truth not to be questioned.

my liberal arts period deepened my love of learning, and taught me to read all sides and understand that the same point can be believed different ways by different groups. i am sure this is not the message the benedictines intended when they began the college in rural new england; but the renaissance was not expected to occur when the university of paris was opened either.

i then found a job that allowed me to create models in my head and later see them run in the world. the fact that my models anticipated a user’s needs without them needing to tell me what they were was key to my ability to succeed at the job. the trick was to constantly ask what i would want as a user of the system, and then to convince others to let me build it that way. this required me to both think about the issue from the users view, and to communicate that view to people who thought they knew better.

time and again i was told to stick to the agreed scope. normally i would turn over a system that visibly matched scope but beneath the sheets was able to run in the way that i thought it should. soon after delivery, someone would come to me and ask how hard it would be to make the software work the way i had pushed for. people expected me to say it was a big effort, i would smile and say “don’t worry, i can make it do that”. while they were busily testing something i knew ran correctly, i was off playing on the next thing i wanted to do; the thing i should have had no time for because i was busy changing the first implementation.

being able to improve something means understanding it in the first place. there are three ways to learn about a system. reading documentation is the way we always ask for, the reality is most of the time there is very little documentation and it’s outdated or misleading. you can read the code, which is always right but sometimes hard to grasp if you don’t understand the style. lastly, you can debug.

debugging is not fixing software, its watching it run and analyzing the behavior and internal state. bugs are when a system acts in a way that is not anticipated or understood. the fact that the people cannot find the defect by reading the code is the heart of the debugging process. the lesson learned is that sometimes you need to have a complex system running so you can observe it. to quote ayn rand (also a developer of sorts) “when you see a contradiction, check your assumptions”.

so i no longer get to code. yes, i do some coding on the side. i wrote a pretty cool piece of software this summer that had only three minor issues in it. i delivered it quickly and took the pressure off a team that was overloaded with another project. it felt good to design and build, and then turn it over to someone else who learned from it. that is development, and it’s what you miss when you stop doing it.

now i get to design and build things that are not software. i get to decide on team structure, skils to push onto someone (hoping they see why i am pushing them), colors of walls, message of a message and the flow of a slide deck. i also get to decide which data is important to watch and how to communicate the values. as well as, what things to save and which to let go.

i get to do a lot of debugging, but not the type i trained myself to do. i get to read someone’s documentation and then to watch the running system. it’s interesting, it’s exciting and frustrating at times, but it’s nothing like the debugging of my prior career. for the first time in my life, i have decided that process does matter. this is a strange concept for the kid in geometry class that could get an answer but not do the steps. debugging is all about learning to understand the need to watch and test at each step.

my adult life has been one of learning to learn and later learning to analyze. i have a career built on analysis of things that no one asked me to analyze. being one step ahead, having randomly decided to research a technology the week before a client called to ask if i knew anything about it. being able to anticipant how a system was designed by watching it, being able to intuit the place to look for a bug when one was reported. these are the skills that allowed me to excel.

the issue becomes, these skills don’t work in the real world. or rather, they work to well at times.

the next skill to learn might be to not discuss the areas of the system i think we should be changing scope on. sometimes, leaving scope alone and not pointing out a better way is what the user really wants in the system.

auto snooping

i am finishing a book titled “snooping”. yes, i have some pretty strange reading habits. “profiling” is waiting to be finished, but this book happened to present itself at a time when the question of how to understand people better, and the need to sit in a quiet place and read about something not expressly work related intersected perfectly. the basic idea in the book is that you can read a person based on the spaces they construct for themselves, or the residue they leave behind in the spaces they inhabit.

the book focuses on the bedrooms, bathrooms, living rooms, offices, homepages, blog spaces, music or book collections people create and share with others. there is a differentiation between public and private spaces. there is the idea that people may construct false images of themselves, but that clues of the deeper self can be gained by gaining access to these “personalized” indicators of themselves.

there is really nothing earth shattering in this book, an observant person might pick up on much of it without knowing why. this is actually discussed and is part of the research that lead to the book. what was interesting was that people do inherently know they are being watched. i have noticed that most malaysians do not personalize their workspaces for example; i have wondered if this is because they see the space as transient and temporary, or if they simply do not feel comfortable allowing people at work to have a view into their inner selves. this is not everyone; but one in hundred has a toy fish tank on his desk; a shockingly low value for a guy with a fathers-day “family guy” in his own office.

but if malaysians are so restrained in their display of personality, if they are careful not to allow others do see the clues to the true inside, where can one look. what was needed was a public space that also has a high degree of privacy to it. where are people comfortable being themselves, but are also comfortable sharing the space with others?

the answer i came to, one surprisingly not in “snooping”, is a person’s car. this is a space we spend a good deal of individual time in; we create it in the image of what makes us comfortable. the car itself many times is an indication of the person we see ourselves as. our personal worldview is wrapped into our choice of hummer over electric car, or mini-van over roadster.

i have a friend who drives a car affectionately known as the cockroach. the name is derived from the mascot insect that seems to perpetually inhabit the mobile storage space that the car represents. clothes, makeup, luggage and random possessions of life are haphazardly layered across the passenger and boot spaces. this car reflects the nomadic lifestyle of its owner as much as it results from it. the fact the car was driven for months without a road-tax sticker, and that the driver drove for months without a license, are both strong indicators of the owners deeper random personality. a personality the car with its flotsam and jetsam contents clearly indicate.

i have also considered the cars i drive. i have two distinct sets. i have a car in the US which i love. i only see it for 3 or 4 weeks a year, but knowing that it is there for me when i go home is a reassuring feeling. when i go to my son’s soccer game, and realize it is much colder than i prepared for, i can reach into the trunk space, and pull out a warm jacket, a hat and even a sweater for my son. my chair for the game is no longer there, but if i am lucky it is waiting for me on the side of the field. my family sports wagon, with 4 wheel drive to climb slippery hills and traction control for the commutes during blizzards represents me. i have finished paying for it. it is mine and i love it; even if someone else gets to drive it while i am unable to snuggle into the heated leather seats,

while in malaysia, i drive a perdana. this is the top of the line local car, and sadly it would never sell outside the country. definitely not at the price it is sold for locally. somehow, malaysians have been convinced cars are meant to cost three times more than they do in the developed world. low quality at an expensive price is not a way to attack a world market. it may temporarily work in a closed economy, but to compete you need a price point that it tied to your value. this concept has not yet been baked into malaysia.

the lack of quality does mean that i change cars every few months. having no emotional tie beyond a rental agreement, the first sign of issue has me calling for a new less trouble prone kereta. the issues are forgotten as soon as i can get the new seat adjusted and the radio stations set. the fact that i use an ipod in the car is largely driven by this ability to switch perdana’s in the time it takes two people to look through a few pockets or under a seat for items they don’t want to have left behind.

i have wondered what this easy mobility here, compared to the comfort with my of my cross-country in the us tells others about me. i see newer, smaller, sexier models of sports wagons here, or the xc-60 i just saw at schiphol which grabbed my eye but gave me no chance to sit and feel the seats. i know while i am here, the cost of buying a car may never be worth it to me, the price is artificially inflated and having the wheel on the wrong side means it cannot be easily brought to left hand drive countries.

reading people by their possessions and their spaces does come with challenges. when someone tells you they love to cook and to read, it might be hard to gauge without walking around their house to find no bookselves and a singular copy of “betty crooker” their grandmother gave them when they went to college. but walking someone who has just told you that their three children are the most important thing in their lives; and finding them driving a two-seater sports car is an indication of who they truly are.

look for the things people put in auto-mode, they can give you a deeper view.

Sunday, December 07, 2008

first class

i am on a train speeding towards a business class lounge and a big seat that i will sleep in while being near-magically transported from west to east. as i feel the sensation of quickly gliding forward i tap my foot to frank black’s cries of “that educational” place where i used to have bagels and tacos with my kids. i watch the windmills slowly turn in the distance and the water pass under the bridge i cross from flemish to dutch territory. i think about the power those windmills create, power like that i am using to charge my phones, ipod and laptop for the coming twelve hour flight.

i have a 3g connection to allow me to send email while i float from my best friend’s home town to my favorite airport. i spent the week working to resolve some long standing issues, and ended that work time out with the boys deciding what color was best (red, orange or purple… i voted for purple and worry about “dark helmet” at times). i woke up yesterday morning after sleeping less than three hours and had a car waiting to whisk me to the airport. last night, i attended a party where i was introduced as a special guest; and then i slipped out and walked in the rain for two hours. i got wet, but i enjoyed beignet, boudin noir, foie gras and champagne avec friase; god loves europe, if not why did he put so much amazing food there.

after i slipping back into the party i was given tickets to have kirsch chaude, cherry beer served warm with a hint of cinnamon.  a strange combination, which i passed a few times will walking and just smiled at the craziness.  the combination was wonderful, and the hesitant first was not the last that i enjoyed. 

the party was conducted in two languages in which my competency is limited to social pleasantries and a few core words (hmmm, shockingly most are food and alcohol related). being language limited and knowing only one other person, one who requires frequent nicotine breaks that conflict with my limited ability to breathe through chronic bronchitis, translated to me spending a lot of time alone.

this was broken up by a nice conversation with the "second" most attractive woman at the party. she came over and struck up the conversation. in the middle of which she said, “i moved here to be with my boyfriend… ahhhhh, my friend”. that made me smile, and later her boss told me she moved to be with her husband… which made me smile again thinking about the earlier… ahhhhh, correction.

the highlight of the night was to get a hug and a european cheek kiss from the "first" most attractive woman at the party. after saying good-bye, she slipped her arm around my waist and gave me a bit of a hip snuggle. it was european-platonic; she was wearing a wedding band and i had been slipped the key to another beautiful woman’s apartment so nothing was going to happen. monique’s big soft bed was waiting, monique was not but the bed was really comfortable.

this morning was a late wake-up, i took a great shower, kissed a man i had never met on the top of the head and then sat down to breakfast with him. i got a hug from a little man who i love, even though he had no idea what i am saying when i tell him that. then i got kisses from two men who know what i want even before i think about it. the beginning of the day ended with the marriage of a princess.

so now i am passing though a gorgeous set of farm land, warm, light and happy. i have power, internet, two computers, tons of music, friends to send email to and memories to mull over as i continue to travel though life. the airport is getting close, it’s time to pack-up and make sure i leave the train with all the things i got on with. i have the car almost to myself and i am dancing to burnside, “someday baby you’re not going to trouble poor me…. anymore”.

as i am considering how blessed i am, just how good life can be and how much i enjoy what i do and the people i get to do it with, i am shuttered back to reality. there is a woman 5 rows in front of me. she is standing up glaring at me as i dance in the isle. the conductors just passed and simply smiled at me. they appeared to have no issue with my dancing in the near empty car, so i am not sure why frau-grumpy is directing evil eyes at me. i say “pardon?” i see the look of understanding as she hears my pseudo-euro accent and recognizes me as an american. recognition mixes with disgust as she realizes that yelling at me in dutch is not going to work. she switches to english to say “you can nut hev music, theer ar rouls”.

because the conductors didn’t mention rouls i weigh the upside of debate; but my mood is too good, i am in first class and loving it. i say, “okay let me turn the music down”. which i do to the point that i can barely hear it; i feel a flash of teenager angst for needing to be told to turn down the music. i look up and she is still standing and glaring out me.  i am not a teenager, so i add, “i turned it down, but i am still going to dance in the aisle” to which i add my career-practiced smart-ass smile.

i am sure this woman is in first glass to get away from the kids that bother her so much. she would rather sit alone in a quiet car and grumble about why life is so cruel. little did she know there would be a 40 something kid who travels the world, connected to the internet and fused with music, friends and smiles. one who can afford the EUR 53 for the comfy red seats from an airport surrounded by windmills to his adopted flemish town. a big kid with a desire to dance in the wide first class aisles and the freedom to do it. why be unhappy when you can enjoy life?

as i was typing this, muddy waters came on and sang, “i love the life i live, i live the life i love”. that is first class.

Saturday, November 22, 2008

silent destiny

i said in a recent post that when i have random thoughts, i translate them to a title and the title stays with me until i get around to converting randomess to strongly-typed bits. i have been watching one random thought for months; but, during the {dry season} this summer i simply never found the time to let those bits flow. events have silenced the destiny of those bits, and brought a new direction of thought.

the story begins while driving (many, many times) to the office. i live with my ipod connected to me. it is a requirement for all trips; auto, aero or other. 80 gig, silver and filled with my music and photos. the thought of a trip without this companion compares to pondering life on a deserted island; pangs of lose and separation are felt at the mere consideration.

while mobile i tend to do the ipod shuffle; allowing apple’s engineers to randomly* select a play list. the little silver surfer picks the tunes as space and time move. i am amazed at how well they select the next song for my listening pleasure. in fact, i have noticed that on days when the selections on the trip to the office are especially good, the day tends to progress in a positive way. in contrast, when the frequency of hitting “next” increases, the events of the day go spiraling toward the desire to fast forward.

i have mentioned to people that i have been following the trend, and most of them appear to be skeptics. not a surprise, as i am a skeptic on most stories of premonition also. i recently heard a story of a fortune-teller who “predicted” the big easy hurricane. i smiled and did not point out that historically it was not much of a stretch to predict the southern US would be struck by a storm. there are yearly stories on prime-time news shows predicting the same; normally timed just before storm season. also, the described “premonition” had all the specific clarity of nostradamus.

but in this case, i have watched the trends and i am convinced of a correlation. i am not making a judgment on causality, just that there is a relationship between the two patterns. months ago, i was driving and considering this; and created of the title “ipod destiny”. i was smiling and in the process of imprinting the title for later recovery during the quiet gap between songs. i listened to the next song start, it was one i did not remember hearing before. i picked up my friend and looked to see what she had selected for me, as the soulful tones of lenny kravitz’s voice were recognized i read the title “destiny”. {spooky!}

i had just told someone about my ipod destiny and i was remembering the the smiles it brought. i was also looking forward to my drive into the office and the new day. as i turned the key i asked myself, how do you think the driving music (and the day) will go? considering the answer, i picked up my shimmering friend and hit the play button.

no response. i looked closer and saw the empty battery graphic. my friend must have continued to play songs as i slept, and the battery was now empty. no music; i was going to drive in silence. but, always ready to analyze, i questioned what were the implications of this? if good/bad music brought a good/bad day, what would no music at all bring in the day to come? a feeling of loss was replaced by a sense of foreboding.

as someone who watches and lives within patterns, here was a new data point. new can be exciting and enjoyable, or it can be scary and troubling. life is all about change, but surprises and things that don’t work are only sometimes found to be the best course. i drove in silence, and imprinted the new title.

as usual when i hit an issue, i have come up with a plan b. the silver ipod will be replaced in the car with its darker cousin i currently have stuffed into my guitar bag. i am not investing the personal time to improve my music skills, i might as well use the other ipod lower the risk profile of future silent driving. i will now have access to two friends, when one is found silent and empty, the other will take over and provide the songs of the day.

but, i need to resist the temptation to swap before emptiness. i cannot make a change as soon as the pattern goes negative. i doubt this will be an issue for me. there is always the hope that a quick replacement will bring you back to positive. but i understand the reality. when dealing with destiny, doing a replacement will not change the outcome. it will simply mean you have two things that need to be tracked, updated and filled when empty.

you cannot change your destiny, it doesn't matter if it's good, bad or "silent and empty".

/**************************************************************

my silver ipod sits charging while i write this post. the drive home will be filled with my music. now i just need to remember to turn it off when i get there.

* there is an internet debate over the randomness of the shuffle, belief is that favoritism is used to improve the musical selections. i will ignore the debate, and simply say ‘shuffle me baby’.


if apple knows to put luscious jackson, burnside and frank black together than i say 'why be random'.

*******/

storm junkie

i told someone a few months ago that they were an adrenaline junkie. some people say it takes one to know one. they came back to me this week and confirmed i was right. also that not only did the adrenaline rush in the middle of the fight feel good, but that it had lasting effects. the rush of crisis driven adrenaline one day, improved overall balance and control the next.

for the rush, some will do things that i have never had to resort to. they will jump out of a perfectly good airplane or they will step off of a pedestal attached to a rubber-band. if you know me you might say that my driving is a search for a rush; honestly i am simply rushing.

to feel the adrenaline i need to feel that i am not in control. even when i am driving at double the speed limit the feeling of control is perfectly type-A. the one exception might be when my “top of the line” malaysian car’s breaks fire without me touching them. this only happens during torrential downpours that come with monsoon season. the rush does not come from the driving, but as a result of the storm.

to experience my rush, i need to be enveloped within a storm. is it a surprise that i made a game of watching lightening storms with my children? it is clearly not a surprise that i continue to find myself in the middle of storms, ones that i happily rush into. rather than battening down the hatches and riding it out hidden down below, you will find me up on deck holding onto the tiller and laughing into the wind. bring on the waves and lightening, it wouldn’t be a storm without them.

this week reminded me of a bright blue day during my college summers. i was sitting in a tower above the sand and was bored with the monotony of yet another clear day. this is when the radio made a sound and said the words, “this is an emergency weather advisory”. i looked north and saw the black clouds coming towards me, the excitement began. for the next 2 hours reports continued and the wall of clouds and lightening pressed closer. in front of me i had happy swimmers who had no idea what was coming, and behind me the storm was raging.

we cleared the beach as the squall came close enough to feel it's effects. the beach was empty, but i stayed in my tower. light drops blown forward were replaced by pelts of driven rain. the wall of clouds and falling water enveloped my world and i was surrounded by lightening strikes, one after the next. the sound of thunder and the spectacle of light was elemental excitement. i sat high above the sand and relished it, i was literally in the middle of the storm and it felt amazing; i had no control over the storm, the rush came from being part of something beyond control.

the squall line soon passed and continued it out to sea. it had come directly at us and drove right over the top. i watched the last of the lightening fade into the distance and the families come back onto the sand with their blankets. you could see the faces, upset that their day had been ruined and the sand was now wet. i sat smiling and happy, satisfied to have been part of the experience. why do people want yet another plodding and uneventful day, when they can have the rush of the spectacle? this was special and would be a lasting memory.

i watch for storms, and feel them approaching with expectation. i live and work where storms happen on a regular basis. i don’t go hunting for them, but if one comes towards me i am ready when it hits. if i hid inside i would miss the fun, so i get up and go enjoy the excitement. i want to teach my kids to not be scared or upset.

if they can learn to enjoy the rush of the storm, it might stop them from wanting to jump off a cliff.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

becoming kirk

have you ever asked what character in film or tv someone identifies with? my sister grew up deeply identifying with laura ingles wilder, the main character from “little house on the prairie”. i could barely tolerate the show, but she loved it. after traveling the world with her family in tow (the modern equivalent of crossing a continent in a covered wagon) she and her clan settled into a farm house. is this a coincidence or was it her personality identifying with her future.

i identified with a show of my own, one my sister could barely tolerate. as a software engineer who grew up in the 70s and 80s it is probably not a surprise that the show was “star trek” (pseudo-militaristic scientists living in a race-neutral utopia driven by learning and discovery; where everyone seemed to be a programmer). the thing i loved about the show was watching kirk think outside the box and challenge his team to succeed in situations that seemed impossible.

i never saw myself as kirk, i felt more connected to spock the logical and reserved second in command who executed kirk’s plans without more than a raised eyebrow to hint that he may not have understood the orders but that he trusted following them. that view of myself has dropped away over the years.

the coldness of spock was an effective counterpoint to the emotion of kirk. spock planned and was able to deal with high levels of complexity, but kirk was highly reactive and thought outside the box. he formed plans “on the fly” that pushed the envelope to the point that he was reminded, “captian, i can’t change the laws of physics” to which would answer, “do the best you can”. kirk’s plans would succeed and the team moved onto the next crisis driven episode.

kirk was a anti-hero when compared to the standard father figure of the pre-nuclear age. he was alone, except for those with his crew he had no stable relationships; he would make and later move beyond episodic connections. as we learn more about kirk it is strongly hinted that he was on his “five year mission to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life forms and to boldly go where no man has gone before” because of an internal need to search for something previously lost.

what truly caused that loss was never entirely clear. there were hints that putting career first was a driver, but watching kirk closely gives one the impression that he was simply a person doing what they were meant to do. could someone who can take on those challenges or who knew when to follow rules and when to break them, really have decided to settle down on a farm in idaho.

in the movie “generations” kirk meets picard (kirk of the next generation) in the nexus; a place that allows you to reclaim the thing you miss the most. nexus of course means bond or the interconnection of a group, which is a none to subtle hint that most people miss lost connections. the nexus for picard was a family he never had. for kirk it was a relationship he did not keep. but kirk leaves the nexus because he knows that it is not real. reality is living not pretending to enjoy a life that is false.

the draw of ‘the nexus' is strong, it can be all consuming. the feeling of lose or regret may be part of the human condition. but kirk teaches us that a life spent living, fighting for what is right, protecting the prime directive and thinking outside the box that others coerce you to stay within, can be more than simply acceptable. for some it can very clearly be the life they are meant to lead. even if you need to challenge the laws of physics, or to change the rules of the game:

sometimes you just need to, “do the best you can”.

Saturday, November 15, 2008

loving life

i woke up with a question. what do you think about life?

the short answer is i love life. you only have one, and if you f-it-up somehow what the hell do you have left.

i have been told this week that i am depressed, that i look upset and that i am distant. the reality is that i am tired. i have been travelling so much that i feel like i am falling behind; not only in work but in life itself. that doesn’t mean i am upset, just that i want to take the time to catch up inside myself.

i found myself watching a youtube lesson on playing blues guitar. these were the classes i was taking last spring before i jumped with both feet into the crazy behavior i have been allowing this year. on the drive home i started to think about the box of books on learning mandarin that i lent to “wo loa shr” in hopes she could customize my learning of chinese. that stalled out too, and i have been feeling the tug of desire to get it back on track and get those skills. the fact that i was forced into using my spanish in LA, and found it hard until i met esteban my two-year old business lounge friend who i gave the crayons i was carrying around in my bag. estaban showed me that if i tried, i could dust off my spanish and get it functional again.

i have 62 gig worth of video that i downloaded after the conference which i largely missed. work came before learning, even when i scheduled the week with no distractions and in a time zone to make it easy to avoid getting sucked in. clearly saying yes to an opportunity came before the planned ability to learn things i had been interested in for months.

overall life is good; no life is clearly great. i have opportunities that people only fantasize about. i have people who love me sprinkled around the world. i know that if i knock on certain doors they will be opened and i will be welcomed in. i am physically far away from my family, and in many ways i am closer than i was when i was in the same house. i am sure there are people who know and accept me; that is a very good thing to have in your life.

people misunderstand my need for distance. i simply like to be alone. i like to do my own thing and go at my own pace. i have been sitting in a café, writing, thinking and generally doing nothing productive, nothing that anyone else would find interesting, for many hours now. it feels good to be alone and to do the things i want to do. i get like this when i need to recharge myself, when i feel drained and in need of filling myself back up.

life is good because i have this opportunity. the idea of being in a situation where i was not able to take this kind of room is like considering living on the top of a mountain for me. the view might be beautiful, the company might be stunning and full of energy, but i have been in the mountains before and i was unable to breathe.

i was built for the ocean; wide open spaces where you can sail in any direction. people are scared of the ocean for its size and strength, i love it because i have a strong compass and can navigate. i also don't fear the strength. i crave it. i love the challenge and the ability to ride the wind and waves. i need the ability to see a storm on the horizon and turn away from the strongest winds; even if i have to swim for shore now and again. that seems much saner than living perched in a fixed place you cannot catch a breath and where you cannot to get out of the way of a storm.

people who don’t love life seem to allow themselves to get into situations where their freedom to choose, the ability to steer their own direction, is taken away. some people appear to crave someone else to construct rules and tell them the truth about all things. but the type-As of us want exactly the opposite. we need to be in control of everything; our thoughts, our actions and the simple direction of our days.

add a strong libertarian spirit, and the inability to control a few core aspects of life and you find we tend to create distance to regain control. this does not mean we don’t love life, exactly the opposite; we love it so much that we want to experience it fully. we want to simplify it to the extreme; ensuring there is no need to explain, negotiate or compromise.

life if good, if you allow it to be.

merging sounds

i sitting in a cafĂ© and copying from external to internal to external again. it’s a drone like task, but it is all my fault and it’s kind of interesting. the music that we carry with us through our lives, on our hard drives, on our ipods, inside our heads are markers of who we are. they are a view into our own personal rhythms and into our past. my collection is filled with movie soundtracks, the blues, cuban, alternative and diverse singers like elvis costello, lyle lovett and chris isaak who have deep lyrics matched with deep voices.

a few weeks ago i was surfing , looking for music buy while in the US. as part of the search i entered “fat possum” and got to “the black keys”. using an internet search engine to find a new artist is fun, but it feels modern; and coldly distant. there was a time when finding new music meant acquiring new friends. i can remember back to albums and eight-tracks, but for me the finding new music was flipping through a strange CD collection and swapping discs to hear the music. if there was bonding, a tape would be made. tape making was a way to show a new friend you cared enough to share your tunes. it could also show that you cared enough to understand their tastes. i still have tapes friends made for me many years ago (mace thanks for the surf punks).

i used another element of the internet to reach out to a friend i thought would like the cool new band i had found. his response was, “yeah cram turned me onto them, he told me "dark helmet" got him hooked him on them”. shock and confusion… that one sentence touched on three friends i had made in three separate companies over the past 8 years. they are also people who lived worlds apart and who have actually all been brought together by connections directly through me. the shock was that these connections did not extend their music to me, but had resulted in them sharing an artist i was left having to search for myself.

that conversation set off the following chain of events; another IM sharing the pain of not being included in the sharing, a core dump of bits to a little black box, the bits being tossed in a bag and schlepped on a world-wind tour because the time to review, categorize, filter and copy has not bubbled to the top. i am now staring out a window on a world half a planet away and merging an entire history of a friend’s musical life with my own.

better than that, i am finding clear signs of prior dumps and merges which have happened. i can see history of multiple friends who have formed a very comprehensive and special collection of bits. the bits have now created a situation where the sum of the parts are more than the original set could ever have been. imagine taking the memories of your friends and merging them into yours. clearly having an obsessive organizer, a crazy architect, a musician and a larval-stage TLA junkie mixed into my head is an interesting proposition.

it does prompt a few thoughts though. just how much tape would it take to hand 100+ gig of music to someone on cassette? and, who is going to take the time to create the playlist we will listen to the next time we get into a pub for drinks. actually, here is an interesting thought: this group of friends has never once been physically together. we are sharing our memories and although we have worked, eaten, drank and smiled together, we spend much more time virtually connected than we do phyisically close to each other.

how am i ever going to find the time to listen to all this music? i need someone to make me a tape so i know what to focus on first.

packing system

i have a thing for bags. it has been called a fetish, it has been a point of contention, but deep down inside my love of bags is something that i really enjoy. i find and buy bags all over the world; they are all shapes and all sizes. every bag has a unique personality and purpose. being able to reach into my bag and have the thing i need come out of it is comforting to me. when stressed, i find myself reaching down and touching my bag, knowing its there so i can get through the day provides a physical relaxation. but bags come with challenges, and having multiple bags creates problems.

a few months ago i was travelling in europe. it was late at night and i was walking along with two guys who are friends. one of them is a guys-guy, when about the most important bag of his life he discusses a sack he lugged through jungles, carrying food he was not allowed to eat. the other guy may never have had a bag he truly loves, but he just smiled when i stopped and stared at a set of soft luggage that i said i would be mine. i "needed" a bag that was different from all the rest, something to be with me when i travel, one that is flexible and easy to spot in a crowd.

i was just in LA on a trip. i had my favorite bag with me, but it was just too big. the effort to carry it around with me was too much, i needed something lighter and easier to swing into a cab. the common feeling of needing to search began to bubble. the next day i found a shop and walked out with my newest bag; just the right size, just the right shape. the favorite bag is there and not forgotten, no less loved, but the new bag now takes over and in fact is sitting next to me now.

so what do i need these bags for? the following is what i carry with me day to day:
  • books on whatever area of software i plan to play with next (webparts and ajax, linq and silverlight)
  • books on random subjects that bore most people, but that i love (the canon, a whirligig tour of the beautiful basics of science and aspirin, the remarkable story of a wonder drug)
  • my notebook for random thoughts
  • a chess board
  • a power adapter, that supports all plugs worldwide
  • a full-sized power strip (surge protector)
  • external hard-drive(s) for backups, actually today i have 4 with me
  • an arm strap for “tennis-elbow”
  • an inhaler for allergy induced asthma
  • a big bottle of pepcid ac
  • a power adapter for my laptop
  • power adapters for two phones
  • a small digital camera
  • a small digital camera tripod
  • a fold-up umbrella
  • a split-cable for sharing my ipod
  • two sets of head phones for my ipods
  • sync cables for ipod, phone, and external harddrives
  • pens and highlighters
  • a flash light
  • a leatherman
  • a blue tooth hands free for my phone(s)
  • extra batteries for 3 hand phones
  • a box of safety
    (3, not 20... i brought them to the sales conference in india... but i spent the night with sprinklers hung over the dance floor and an open bar, alone in my room talking to us based hr people working out a compensation leveling process for my whole center... a conversation which provided much more safety than anything in the box would have)
  • a toothbrush and floss
  • a dew rag; to keep my head warm under aircon.
  • a first-aid kit (you never know when the next boo-boo will happen)
  • a toiletry kit (you never know when you need to sleep in the office)

that seems like almost enough to carry on a regular basis. other things are thrown in and taken out over time, but this is the basic packing set. if i am carrying my passport (in a small bag of its own of course), i can get on a plane and go for a week and only need to buy clothes to survive. (i have another bag at home that is packed and ready to go in about 5 minutes for a 3 day trip).

so here is the issue. no bag is perfect for all occasions. my standard bag does get to be crowded, heavy and difficult to maneuver. my other bags are easier, but they are missing the substance and the supporting comfort. what i have found i need is a way to organize and change without losing the essentials. i realize i need a packing system, i need someone who has OCD to step in and help me organize things to make my ADD life simple and easy.

no matter what anyone tells you, bags matter, they help you get through the day. they allow you to pick up and go quickly. they stop you from forgetting the cable you need to recharge your ipod when you are confronted with a long flight and a nearly empty battery.

one size fits all is a fallacy unless you are willing to compromise. when you try to live that way you will find yourself living with the least common denominator, that only works if you can invest the time and effort to simplify your complex fractions.

but, if you are capable of living with some complexity, building a system to make the complex appear simple and to invest the effort to carry the extra items, life in a bag can be simple and enjoyable.

Sunday, November 09, 2008

travel companion

in the past month i have done 8 flights that lasted more than 6 hours. i have no issues on planes, i have learned how to work, sleep and relax on a plane. i honestly look forward to long flights because they are time where i am disconnected from the world and i can watch DVDs or read books that have piled up, or catch up on sleep that has been lost.

something different happened yesterday, i met a beautiful girl. i have had all kinds of seat mates, the very large african woman who LOUDLY snored her way across the atlantic, the chinese businessman who clearly worried over my “kite runner” sobs or the kid i found asleep at my feet (okay he is mine, but it did kind of freak me out). this was different; we were able to build up a friendship over a few hours.

my new friend was traveling to visit family, she was hesitant at first but warmed up to the point that we were smiling and talking freely at the end. the trick with this, even when you are from different cultures and seemingly have little in common is to listen to the other person and to help them feel comfortable when they do open up. making friends is about finding the common ground that gives you that connection.

i am rested and feel more relaxed over the past week or so. it has allowed me to take time and connect with people. yesterday came from that, i was leaving a new group of friends and i was able to find and make a yet another in a few hours. my newest friend may never enter my life again, i may never see her smile again, but i am glad we found the chance to meet.

this is one of the best parts of travel. there are 6 billon people in the world. taking a few hours and connecting with one of them, finding common ground and being able to make someone you did not know before smile and be happy for a moment is a gift. giving and taking gifts like this are what makes a life worthwhile.

i got a hug and a little kiss at the end of the flight. i wish i had taken a picture, but in the rush of departure i did not get the chance. she is beautiful, and i hope she remembers to smile, because that smile made this one of the best flights i have taken, it be one i will not forget.

prisha, enjoy your life, and remember you are god’s gift.

mythical friend

living among people who fundamentally believe in the existence and reality of god, while personally having a world view that has been called, free-thinking, skeptical or simply jaded is a strange experience. the fact that i am in high tech, and from one of the most liberal and educated areas of the US, or that most of my best friends come from and support a pragmatic libertarian lifestyle makes it all the more of an issue.

my family suffered from religious entropy as i grew up. inter-sect marriage, inter-racial friends, inter-city lifestyle and intra-childhood divorce has taken its toll on the entire family’s ability to believe. this is true for my generation, but the next, that of the kids… they are living in a time where nearly all beliefs are openly challenged and the guilt of not believing is nearly eliminated.

one of my favorite television characters, one i have written about in the past, is dr. gregory house. house delights in attacking a cross-wearing or sabbath observing patient with statements questioning the reality of their “mythical friend”. i without being able to help it have smiled every time i have heard this. i have even been known to use the term myself while attempting to irritate, or is that instigate a response from, a friend who does still believe.

what has struck me is that house is alone, immerses his self in work, and focuses on building and supporting team he clearly likes even if he keeps his distance from them. house also has visible pain and dependency; both of which relate to loss, but i see them as metaphorical reminders of the loss of an earlier belief more than the loss of his thigh’s muscle.

who is the "mythical friend" house is really missing? is it one he cannot touch, or one he can no longer touch. the fact that religious symbols are tied into words like communion, or coming together with the myth, should not be over looked. the core element to most faith is the extension of membership to believers, believers who use faith to transcend doubt or lack of evidence. this is true in many relationships, those with religion which house states is a myth, and those myths which flow from relationships with a person who initially seems to be concrete, and can begin to take on the elements of faith to believe the mythical image.

does house's pain symbolize his lack of relationship with one of his personal mythical figures? if it does this clearly is commentary that the myths accepted by others must be as well. it may not be instantly self evident but consider how deeply feelings of loss and pain can be felt when confronted with the stark reality of faith exposed to be untrue.

we all have myths that we hold dear, some we can live without challenging. others when exposed as false we simply create a new reality or myth to replace the original. but the event that causes real pain is when we are unable to accept the new reality, or incorporate the truth of the reality into ourselves. we simply go on and on believing long after the myth should be stripped away.

as children we are forced to give up our "imaginary" friends, which we are told is part of maturing; we are expected to replace these friends with “real” friends. when these "real" are exposed as myth, we are encouraged to quickly give them up much the same way as we did those from the simplicity of our childhood. the hard reality is that sometimes the more mature myths are harder to let go of. house is a portayal of this using chronic pain, addiction and suppressed longing as symbols of the suffering caused by losing myths. what humanizes this protrayal is that he appears to fully understand his situation, he may be crippled by the pain but it is what makes him house.

so why do we seem so set on creating, supporting and believing these myths. what would be the harm of simply living in reality and accepting the world as it actually is?

if we could accept the world for what it really is, there would be no need to create and hold onto myths in the first place.