black buried

the very first thing i do every day is reach for my hand-phone. i am one of the uber-connected who have emails coming in almost around the clock, before my eyes are fully open i am looking for crisis emails that will start my day. my phone is my connection to the world, i do email while driving, i do google searches for words or answers to questions in the middle of a conversation. i love my phone, it is more than just a way for someone to call me while i am away from home or office, it has become my technological connection to the virtual (and largely non-virtual world). i lost a messenger bag full my favorite possessions, and my first thought was oh thank god i have my blackberry on my belt.


the model i have is the bold, it is easily the best computer i have ever carried. i remember thinking the first time i bought and used a PDA that someday, someone would get the form and functionality right. blackberry has years later finally done it. this "phone" lets me have push-driven corporate mail, personal mail, the ability to upload photos to facebook while i run across a beach, ability to google and wikipedia information on the fly and to beam images of helicopters to pre-teens half a world away while trying to motivate him to clean a playroom.


this "phone" also does the best job of keeping me warned about upcoming meetings, on going discussions and emerging emergencies of any appliance i have ever tried to use. the ADD i carry is both managed and stroked by this little black box. it invites me to surf for an answer when the question comes to mind, it vibes on my belt to whisper the need to communicate with people far away who work while i eat dinner and it captures memories digitally to be printed, pasted or posted as later reminders of art seen and not to be forgotten.


the downside is that this little device is the "crack-berry" that is is accused to be. you are never disconnected while you carry this task master of attention. you find yourself picking it up the way an alcoholic reaches for a drink. it has become my information drink of choice, i reach without thought, i sip the information in and savor its flavor. those around me either ignore my habit or say they accept it, but at times i realize i am the addict that my daughter has warned me for years i could become. i have a source of constant adrenaline rush, a way to never be disconnected from the game.


living without my laptop for weeks have made this addiction all the more pronounced. i have learned to survive on the limited form-factor of the bold. the ultra-portable i bought in AMS to allow me to move around without the shoulder pain of the big work laptop is now too big. the lack of messenger bag to carry my daily life has meant i am now working out of nothing more than a belt holster. no extra storage, nothing to swing over my shoulder. connected without the weight of a full life, i have found a way to live with the essentials. but are the essentials enough?


here are the downsides:

1. i am not doing personal email, the two fingered typing to limited for my communication style, i am falling behind in personal connections.
2. i am not writing for my blog. again, just too hard to type and edit a post from a 2.5 inch screen, so my ideas remain stuck in my head.
3. i am finding the world up close blurred for the first time. i wear glasses to see into the distance, for the first time things close to me are now cloudy and i find myself pushing them away so i can get a better view.
4. my new custom messenger bag is in asia and should be delivered tomorrow, meaning i now need to carry more of my life with me to show off the personalized image.

added together i know i need to stop allowing my addiction to my push device to continue. it will be no more than an arms length away, but just as i am typing this on a full keyboard and i feel the words flowing though my nine finger typing style, i appreciate the improvement of nine over two. it will take some time to get back to comfort of needing to carry the extra weight, but it does bring benefits. accepting the benefits of doing things the right way is the first step in stopping an addiction. the addiction feels good, but... sometimes its just time to admit that "just enough" is not enough.

in the end, i need to accept that less is not more, even when it just feels so right.

leaning perfect

i had a date with a strange {almost} chinese girl last night. we have been trying to get together for months. we kept scheduling, but one thing or another came up. we would discuss what we were going to do, i would go to her office to draw up a plan, later we would bump into each other in a DVD shop and the dates would change. we finally spent some real time together and although i really enjoyed myself, it was just not the night that i had hoped for (although it was better than i had hoped). the need for things to be perfect got in the way, at the last minute we pulled back and decided to get back together today and decide what to do next. every encounter leaves a permanent mark on us, so i would rather wait to make sure this one is the best it can be.


the night started by sitting on the couch and waiting for her to get ready. i was a few minutes late, and i thought she would be all set; but she decided to change at the last minute. she had friends sitting around on the couch, and the moments of politely sitting while they discussed betty and veronica cartoons in a rojak of english and chinese was surreal. i never really read the archie comics, i was more of a novella reader as a child, but here were a group of adults that clearly enjoyed the art and substance of a classically amercian comic. (note: veronica has the dark hair, and she "is" the hot one)


she finally called me into her room. she was smaller than i remembered her. but she had a strength and was fully in control of the situation. she talked for a few minutes as she began to work. i assumed it was to put me at ease when she opened by asking if i was worried, and used the word virgin as a friendly taunt. i thought that she might enjoy watching big guys who are used to being in control come to her and defer all control to her. i watched as she sized me up while we talked and noticed as she shifted her approach after quickly profiling me. she said she could tell i was not a square and wanted to make sure i was okay with the pain to come.


i was, i told her i was fully in her control. she needed to lead and i would simply relax and enjoy the experience. she seemed surprised by this possibly thinking i was just being stoic. maybe she was right, she is a professional and has done this many times. when she began to clean me up, and then rub some lotion on my skin i asked a question, which made her smile. she answered me with a bit of edge and asked if i was having second thoughts. second thoughts were behind me, i was committed to this. i was just hoping the experience would be something close to what i hoped for.


that was when her boyfriend came in, she had mentioned him as we had talked. he sat down and smiled at us. clearly he was part of the family, no different than "boy" who had been floating in and out of the studio as she had been getting me ready. by this time i was lying down on a bed in the middle of a brightly lit room, stretched out in a crucifix like pose with alcohol being repeatedly rubbed on my arm. she asked if i would take off my shirt, i told her i was comfortable if she was; again she was skeptically surprised at how comfortable i was for a virgin.


we spent three hours together. she brought the session to a close by admitting her frustration. she had been trying to make things just perfect, but decided it was time to stop so she could go home and reconsider the approach. i had thought things were great, but clearly she saw something i did not, and given she was the professional and this was my first time, i was more than happy to go with her vision.


it has taken months for me to get this far; years actually. there is no reason to push and accept something less than perfect. this will be something i need to carry with me for the rest of my life. once my leaning perfectionist is happy with her work, i will proudly be a different person. i will have the marks to prove it, marks i will either show or hide based on the situation, but this is something i will need to except and enjoy for the a long time.


we are getting back together this afternoon. there is a promise of two new designs, one iban and another maori. i feel a bit like a large piece of white marble with the little artist standing in front of me envisioning the sculpture within. i have a shaved arm, with exposed white skin showing the shadows of yesterdays free hand drawings. i have an artist who cares enough to get it right; to expose the dark lines hidden beneath the white skin. lines that only she can see until she brings them from where they are hiding within.


the fact that she spent three hours re-drawing lines on my body, while discussing relationships, addiction, parental expectations, teaching styles, bondage and personal hygiene... well, don't let her know that some of her customers might come for the conversation as much as the art-work.


in borneo, it's all about the conversations and the permanent marks it leaves.

running down

i realized something about myself this week.  i was trying to explain why i liked running so much.  i was in my office and had just gone 25 minutes, hard running after taking months off.  i was tired from the effort of pushing myself, i was dripping with sweat and i was content with the post-exercise euphoria i feel after beating on myself.  i tried to explain that people do the things that make them feel good, but as i was saying it i knew that wasn't really true for everyone.  running, cycling, swimming all give me the chance to push myself, and the harder it is to push myself the more i enjoy it.  the person i was talking to clearly didn't understand that need, and that's how i realized that what is good for me is not good for everyone.

i have a running machine in my office.  i bought it about a year ago because i wasn't finding the time to run.  when i first got to malaysia i would run during the late afternoon and on weekends.  as time as passed, late afternoons seem to be consumed with other things and on weekends i just want to have a pancake or be in a cafe with internet connection.  the heat and thunderstorms here have also limited my running.  it seemed like there was always something in the way; i had begun to wonder if it was just an excuse for not doing the right thing.  so i took bonus money and paid twice what i should have for the ability to run inside my office.  right after making the purchase, i took busy to a all new level and found more excuses for not running.

some people are very good at living so they never need to recover.  i am amazed by the people who never seem to gain weight.  they keep a rational and long-term view of life and make choices to ensure they never need to fix a problem they have created.  i on the other hand have a tendency to concentrate on the most pressing few items, and ignore the issues that can be dealt with later.  i also have the ability to indulge indulgence.  as i type i am enjoying a strangely formed carrot cake.  baking is an uncommon act in asia.  most houses do not have proper ovens, most kids do not grow up watching grandma make a cake for family events.  my carrot cake is more of a cooked pudding base, somewhere between cookie dough and steamed dumplings served as dim sum.  the fact that it tastes like carrot, has nuts and is topped with sour cream frosting makes it all the more odd.  the second fact, that i don't really like even good carrot cake is the an insight into the fact that i am eating it anyway.

as my weight has drifted upwards over the past few years i have worried about it enough to first buy an exercise bike for my apartment, then a treadmill for my office.  both have been used, but work has come first.  the weight has stablized, which was probably what i was after.  getting any heavyer would take away my ability to rationalize the belief that i am still athletic, losing the weight has never been the primary goal in my life.  work has comes first, relaxing in a cafe, writing or re-watching comfort DVDs has come before going out for that run that i know i should want.  i thought i simply didn't want it enough.  doing the right thing could wait for tomorrow; today it was okay to relax and enjoy being on or off.

but a few things have changed.  i went for a run in the rain a few weeks ago and realized how much i enjoyed it.  i liked the feeling of pushing myself, i liked covering the ground and feeling tired at the end.  i decided i wanted this more than i wanted to write, sleep or veg out in front of the TV.  i felt a new phase beginning, the desire has returned.  i also have an old friend who has challenged me to try something new.  this has given me a goal with needs to be met.  being publically judged brings this into focus as we motivate each other to win.

this is not the first time i have done this.  as i explained my love of pushing myself, i realized that i am just not good in maintenance mode.  i love to build, not to maintain the status quo.  personally this can come across as neglect; if not neglicance.  i am willing to have that peice of cake and ignore the need to burn it back off.  one peice is followed by another, until the task looks too big to fix.  but this is when the job looks interesting to me.  burning off one peice of cake is easy.  burning off a years worth is much harder, and for me a better and more interesting challenge.

when working i can go hard for long periods of time.  i can work while i am sick, i can push while i am tired.  i can crank out a project and do it faster than anyone expects; i can also do the same thing with myself.  i can push to fix something much better than i can work to not let it get broken in the first place.  some of my best memories are of beating myself into shape.  i proudly remember losing 15 lbs in five days.  i was playing football, and had not prepared for the coming double sessions.  the week of intensity that prepared the team mentally and physically.  i came out of that week almost 10% less than i went in, and i loved the experience.  i also remember almost blacking out from effort and being unable to walk without pain, but i kept going.

a few years ago i spent a spring and summer experiencing loss.  it started at the top and worked its way deep into every part of me.  people worried at the cause, and were afraid to ask.  i told myself that i was working to avoid future loss, but i was really just tired of being tired.  i needed to be able to move again, i had built up too much inertia and needed to break free.  the opportunity cost of being static outweighed my ability to grow.  the pendulum had swung, and the feeling of racing to the bottom of the arch was almost as good as that of pushing the last few strokes to come to the top.  the prize was not what i expected, in the end moving again only reminded me how much i enjoyed the act of movement.

things have changed again, i feel it.  i ran every day last week; something i haven't done for over a year.  my boss called friday night after 6:30 PM, i answered my phone on the third right, out of breath.  he asked if i was exercising, i said yes and realized i had a smile on my face.  when he asked if i was still in the office, i said yes again and smiled even wider.  it feels good to be back in rebuiling mode.  running myself down means something different this year than last.  i am sleeping well, i am exercising and i have a goal.  

i remember my last losing summer, but it's behind me.  it's time to spring back into shape by running myself down again.  this is what i have been waiting for all along, a challenge that was worth pushing myself hard enough to feel the pain.  

luggage lost

some days you just know that you have been carrying too much stuff for too long.  i was traveling to europe a few weeks ago.  it was a trip that i honestly didn't want to do, i had been asked to attend meetings, but i had just come back from the US and travel was not what i wanted.  the luggage from the past trip was still sitting on my bedroom floor, half unpacked.  if the maid had not been coming two days before i left, we might not even have made the half way point.  i have found over the years that leaving bags packed, carrying the stuff that has built up over time makes life easy.

as i was packing for the trip i had to make decisions about what to bring.  i have a suitcase i bought in europe last year, one that i love because it is easy to spot and that it matches it's larger pair.  being easy to pick out in a crowd and matching are both things that i value.  but this is also the bag that has become a drag.  the wheels have gotten progressively flattened as i have literally dragged it around the world.  i didn't need the space the second bag gave me, but i wanted to return it and get a replacement that would roll along smoothly as i transit.  in the end i left the house with two rolling luggage, a shoulder bag, my massive messenger bag and a guitar.

why i would carry so much on a one week trip to europe... well, lets just say i was hopeful for time to practice and that i am all to comfortable with carrying more than i need to.  although, as i was packing, i was also unpacking.  i took the time to really consider what i had to carry.  i began to empty some of the items that has accumulated in the bags.  i took out the mini-laptop i am typing on now.  i would normally have taken it with me as a back up; and to allow me to have my personal and work lives both on the trip.  out came books, a hard drive and cables.  i shifted a few things from one bag to another.  some how i felt the need to provide a more balanced load on this trip.  it strangely seemed to matter how i was carrying the items with me; not a normal consideration.

as i landed in europe and collected my bags, i was glad to have the wheels of the checked bags to take the load of the messenger bag off my shoulder.  buying train tickets, having breakfast and waiting for my high speed train where all conducted with an eye on the bags.  european travelers know the risks of not staying connected to your baggage, but staying connected means that you need to drag them with you every step you take.  it was early and not as crowded as it would be hours later.  staying aware was still a requirement, even as the morning caffeine buzz settled over me like a warm blanket.

i went for my train, timed the connection perfectly and only needed to wait for 2 minutes on the chilly tracks below the airport.  the high-speed train came and i walked to the first class car in front.  as i boarded a conductor asked me for my tickets, and looked at me strangely as i produced it.  the ticket agent had given me a ticket for the wrong train.  i had asked for the high-speed train that goes all the way to paris, i had a seat booked on a train that only goes to brussels.  the upside was that the train i was booked on stopped in my location, while the one i had asked for did not.  the conductor was apologetic, which i didn't understand.  this was my fault, and if i were a bit more european i would have realized the mistake.  in the US there is one train system, in europe there are multiple.  it was my own fault that i had waited longer than i should have to start my next leg of travel.  now i had to wait again.  but when it's your own mistake, accepting an apology felt like shifting blame to the innocent.

i sat on a bench in the middle of the platform and began to wait.  passively waiting is not really a comfortable choice for me, so i pulled out the book of tabs i had brought to learn the cake song i have listened to over and over recently.  the book had made its way from the US to malaysia and now onto a train platform below a dutch airport.  next came the guitar and finally the ipod, by the end the 40 mins of waiting had flown and the train was sitting in front of me.  i quickly threw myself and my belongings together and was on the empty train.  again, time past quickly with only a few people coming and going.  i had thoughts of my last train trip when i wrote and danced, this was more time within myself, bags safely tucked next to and above my head.

when i realized i had made it to my stop i had pre-packed the things i had taken out for the trip and was ready to leave.  this is when i realized that one of my bags was missing.  my messenger bag, the one with my work laptop was gone.  someone had crept up behind me while i wasn't looking and had taken my bag.  i called to a conductor, but knew even before asking that there was no hope of ever finding the bag, its contents or those who had taken it.  the next few hours were a mix of regret, guilt and boredom, both for me and for the police who were helping me report of the loss.  it was clear that this was a common situation.  they had no hope of providing any more help than producing a police report which i could not read.  the large black bag i carry everywhere, the bag with my entire life within it was gone.

as part of the process, i did a survey of what i did have.  two of my three hand phones, most importantly my blackberry which in a pinch would be used as a nearly complete ultra-portable.  i had my credit cards, my IC cards, my passport, my ipods, my sunglasses and the cables most needed keep myself me powered on the remainder of the trip.  i had lost something important, but changes i had made at the last moment had also saved me from being completely lost.

this just in time correction is the lesson of this trip.  when things are lost, they may not be recoverable, but you can still continue on.  i have worried over the past few years how bad the loss of this bag could be for me.  i travel a lot, i carry a bag with me at all times and have way too much stuff with me at times.  i am a pragmatist; no matter how hard you try, bad things happen, mistakes are made and you will eventually feel loss.  there are bad people in the world, people who don't care if they impact your travels.  loss happens, deal with it.

which is what i feel like i have finally done.  i feel for the first time, rather than worrying about the loss, i have experienced and can accept it.  it happened, and it's time to regroup and move on.  my bag is gone, someone else has either thrown it away, or is walking around with it wrapped around their shoulder.  to be honest, i hope its the latter, i hope someone is using the bag and enjoying the comfort it gave me.  what a waste to think of it just sitting at the bottom of a landfill.  either way, it's something i have decided to not spend time thinking about, i have accepted and it makes me feel better.

i took the time yesterday to go the local crumpler store.  they didn't have the replacement bag, they said they will be getting an order soon, but somehow that makes me feel like i am sitting on a bench on a train platform.  passively waiting is just not for me.  i am going to find the bag, work out how to get it shipped here and start the process of filling it all over again.  

the upside is that i am also getting used to moving around with less weight hanging on my shoulder.  the pain i am used to is gone, i feel lighter and happier as days pass.  lost luggage is loss, but some how it is also the chance to try to live without the things you have become use to carrying.  it feels strange to not have the weight and to not be able to reach down and touch it.  carrying and feeling it had given a sense of comfort.

i have been resisting this change and now that its happened i am going to embrace it.  i am going to find a new bag, one i can being to load with new gear, but this time the load is going to be less heavy.  it's time to focus on the essentials.  it's time to learn the lesson of this trip. 

loss happens, and then you need to accept the baggage is gone too.