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.  

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.

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.