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.