size matters

i was just saying that i take safety into consideration more than others might think.  i argued that sometimes safety conscience decisions lead someone to be "overly cautious".  they make the choice that seems prudent and adult at the time, but quickly realize that what they choose is not what they want.  what they want is most likely bigger, faster and stronger than what they have.  they are then in the position of replacing the safe choice with the real desire, or living with safety rather than enjoyment.  no matter what anyone tries to tell you, when it comes to enjoyment, size does matter.

there has been a debate raging in my head for the months.  i wanted to recapture a piece of my youth, but realized that i was past the point just leaping back on and going for it.  i needed to weigh the cost and benefits.  i needed to decide if the risk was worth the reward.  i wanted to do something which made perfect sense to me, but i was sure would cause others to question my sanity.

i wanted to buy and ride a motorcycle.  i could not get the desire out of my head, every time i was stuck in a traffic jam and watched the parade of local scooters flow by, i wondered why i was so old and protected in my mid-sized commuter mobile.  i imagined myself in the flow of traffic.  lane-splitting my way home, and cutting my commute time in half.  this "object desire" came close to being an obsession as i considered and rejected multiple plans to scratch my itch for speed.

i test drove a 500 cc royal enfield classic.  this was the first time i had been on a bike in ... a long time.  i was able to take the bike around the area, and get it up into third gear.  the feeling of power as it moved from zero to 60 km was amazing.  i was completely sold that i wanted to get a bike, but i was not sold on it being this one.  i did more research and found reviews that discussed low highway speed and shuddering that "felt like god had grabbed the handle and shook it".  this was not the experience i was looking for, i decided to do the adult thing and wait for another option.

i was still doing internet research.  the standard advice was to start smaller and then upgrade.  the memory of the 500 cc pulling itself off the line was there, the thill of the power and speed.  was it too much?  should i be more conservative?  would it be safer if i started with a 250?  would the smaller bike even make it up a hill with me on it.  let's be clear, a bike built for an asian frame does not sell in the US for a good reason.   we are bigger and used to speed.  would a smaller bike be a sad reminder that bigger is better; in the most negative way.

i test drove a 250, still enough power to be respectable.  but the size of the bike was cramped.  i could see it working, but knew it would be temporary.  it was also a cruiser, which was not what i wanted.  i have this old school image of riding a cafe racer.  all the rage now with a certain segment of the 40-something crowd; and for me a touch less annoying than the wild hogs of american chopper infatuation.  i love the idea of a bike that comes into its own by stripping all the extras away, by grinding pieces of the frame away and beating the gas tank into a tucked in shape.  beauty and power within the less is more metaphor.

and then i found it.  a local bike customized down into a japanese brat package.  close to the cafe image, in a small and tight asia implementation.  the test drive happened on the hill outside the condo.  my idea was that if it climbed the hill with me attached then there was plenty of opening power.  the 175 cc was surprisingly fun and more powerful than i expected.  it is a small bike, but it was passed the test by defeating slope and mass with acceleration.  there were two days of torment as i tried to decided; more worried about how i looked than how it felt.  how i felt won, and the deal was done.

i am now into my third weekend of ownership.  i am happy with the way the bike gets around.  it doesn't have the top-end speed that will allow it to be the one for the long term, but it is fun and is perfect as the training-bike i made the mature-choice to buy.  it was also 7% of the price of the bike that i really wanted.   i am riding at a deep discount to the original object of desire.  as i go from place to place, tucked into the bike to drive the speedometer over the 100km mark, it's more fun than i expected.  but this is not the bike for the longterm.  it gets me around the expat enclaves, and brought me into the city today.  but we are not going onto the highway; for that, we need to upgrade.

this was the right choice of conservative caution.  it ticked off all the boxes of need; but not all those of want.  if you see me on the bike and have a comment, bring it on.  but understand that i am happy with the choice.  i will also be happy with the next choice.  the next one will be bigger, faster and stronger.  it will scratch that itch to take on more.  it will be the platform for the customization that only an over-40 engineer/executive would take on.

i might be a spoiled little boy with too much time, money and lack of adult oversight; but i am also man enough to know that one-size does not fit all.

my little brat is just what i need.

/******
i know boys and girls who might want it, but maybe i will keep the brat anyway.  why give up on your first, even if the upgrade is even better in the corners.
******/

top matters

it's interesting how a small idea can begin, be sidelined and then continue to resurface, bobbing up into view at the most random of times. i picked up a book a few weeks ago, and read it with a gusto of enjoyment. since then i have formulated an exercise of discovery and ruminated on how easy it is to live life if you believe the results of the exercise. the hard part of this is understanding that pleasure is fundamental to life, but what gives someone pleasure is not what you expect.

the book i read was "the compass of pleasure: how our brains make fatty foods, orgasm, exercise, marijuana, generosity, vodka, learning, and gambling feel so good". first of all, look at that title. do you really think i could have passed that book by and not bought and read it immediately? could you have passed it by? if you could, then learning must not be one of the things you gain pleasure from, or is it that pleasure itself does not interest you. the point here is many people do not have a strong handle on what gives them, or those around them, pleasure and why.

the major discovery for me from the text was, what gives us pleasure is both learned and genetically pre-disposed. this is fundamental to a person's addictions, at the root of experience is the ability for our brains to reward and drive us towards certain behaviors. what i did not grasp was that behaviors that light up my pleasure centers do nothing for someone else. but when you feel a craving, it is the same addiction centers of the mammal brain that evolution has built to motivate us to get up seek out pleasure, regardless of what the specific pleasure is that drives you.

as i write this, i have am eating a burmese beef kabob and sharing a fruit salad with bananas, yogurt, and honey. i also have a orange and lime soda and an espresso romana (iced-espresso with lemon and sugar added). i am listening to the alternative soundtrack for catch and release, wearing cargo shorts and a t-shirt and sitting outside so i can feel the heat of the tropical weather. i am also typing away on my 17 inch macbook, which is too heavy to carry but i gave my air to my daughter and are waiting to replace it. i am waiting to raise the desire levels of making the purchase to the point that i get even more pleasure than i would get if i did it today.

every single one of the above items are based on decisions i made to bring myself pleasure. we all make these decisions all day, every day. the theory of desire at the end of the 19th century was that we made choices to avoid pain. we ate because we were hungry; and wanted to avoid the pangs of hunger. this aligns well with the late-victorian sense of morality that shied from the focus on pleasure across cultural realms. today's consumer driven capitalist society is focused on the economy, built on the acceptance of driving pleasurable "needs". i eat for pleasure, and i love doing it.

what intrigued me by the title of the book was how they equated gambling or generosity to fatty-foods. i don't gamble, i don't smoke... cigarettes, i rarely drop into temple and would never be driven to a multi-day connection with a friend; imagined or not. but, i ate a piece of lime cake last week, it was sweet and sour at the same time, each and every bite caused an explosion of pleasure for me. i am waiting to have another piece, i have thought about it all week and have only stopped myself to give it to myself as a reward for exercising this week. is this what a gambler feels when he puts money down on red and watches the roulette spin? i can't understand how that can be, i just can't understand it... and that is the point.

i was discussing this with someone i know and understand very well, she told me i am one of the top 3 people in the world who understand who she is and what gives her pleasure. in wanting to illustrate the relative pleasure of things i took a piece of paper, and on one side drew a vertical line. the top was labelled "complete pleasure" and the bottom was "almost no pleasure". i then listed the standard pleasures discussed in the book, "food, sex, alcohol, drugs, prayer, generosity, exercise, learning and gambling". i was going to force rank these, but decided there were gaps in the list.

these are the general items, and i had items i would add as my specific pleasures. i listed them out, "writing, travel, photography, reading, cooking, music". what i realized immediately was that this list would be different for each person, but that it would fall somewhere into the same force rank as the standard list. how interesting it would be to understand what gives people around you pleasure, but what about what gives yourself pleasure. make your own list, draw the line and then start ranking items against one another. you are allowed one tie on the entire list, otherwise you need to put the items above or below another item, making a decision of how much you honestly enjoy things.

i was talking to a newlywed this week. she admitted that her shopping was something her husband wanted her to do less of, and then said that she wanted him to stop smoking. i quickly explained the force-ranking exercise, and asked if shopping was at the top of her list. she smiled and shyly said, "almost at the top". not being allowed to dig into this more, i asked what was at the top for her husband. she smiled again and told me smoking was his favorite pleasure. she admitted she knew this before they lived together, and then agreed that asking someone to give up their most intense pleasure was not something you would do to someone you loved. this was always the root of the "pick your addictions" advice.

being a software engineer, i immediately jumped to the idea of using collective intelligence to match people based on their pleasures, and displeasures but that might be another blog to consider, not only that they like something, but how much they like it, and how it ranks against other items. until i build the system, you can do it yourself, rank your items, and have those around you do it too. i suggest the rule of thumb is that the items in the top third of someones ranking have to be accepted, or ignored. everyone doing this exercise needs to be honest and then you need to share the list, because if they don't match you will be a newlywed who is upset your husband does something you dislike and that he wants you to stop your pleasures.

for me, this means i need someone who loves to eat, enjoys reading and exploring language, doesn't mind my excessive use of wikipedia/imdb/dictionary.com to look up details and definitions. they must also love to waste hours in a cafe, accept an addiction to apple products and custom messenger bags, embrace an always on handphone and the effects of cyclical stress. an ability to watch shows on dvd, with heavy repetition on house, the closer, justified and dexter is a major plus, if not a deal breaker for someone who can't understand the comfort this repetition brings me.

i was explaining this last night, focused on the top third and how people may not understand how forceful the feelings of pleasure, or the drive to enjoy these things can be. i discussed the need to draw the line and allow things towards the top to be accepted, even if they are what some might not understand. my companion said angelically, " i get it..."

"it's important to be on top."

less noise

i have noticed something unexpected in the past few days. the world without wheat is a quiet place. i am beginning to wonder if this is what most people experience world as, a clear and quiet space that flows along a smooth flat path. this has been a holiday week, and work and life have both been unnaturally calm, but this is more than that. each day has shown that life does have the ability to move without the thrill of a bungee jump.

the last time i was decarbonated i was trying to vainly plug the hole of a dam that was set to burst. the process of holding back the oncoming wave, and asking how things had degenerated into a leaky mess springing holes faster than they could be patched, was enough to eliminate all hope of quiet time. whether i was driving, riding or sitting still, my mind was moving at full pace in directions of it's own. carbonation levels be damned, other things created their own noise.

this time is different, i have been waking up early and listening to the quietness inside and out. my near constant multi-tasking has dropped away at the same time that the light levels have come up. the room is bright and shiny, with the noisy neighbors apparently away on holidays. there is no distraction, and no urgency to begin moving. rather, there is the ability to sit on the couch and read the paper, or in a cafe write, without the normal extras.

what is missing is the chatter of the day that i am used to, the dialogue of debate that i have come to enjoy. i feel like a new yorker who has been dropped into the middle of the beautiful field with wildflowers and tall grass. i am sitting under a shade tree and watching the clouds drift by. the quietness is welcome. after the noise of the city, it is good to be out in the countryside with time to relax. but the lack of noise reminds me that i am truly a city kid.

choosing to live in the city is about being close to the action, to have a cafe on every corner, book stores on every block and a restaurant scene that you need to work to keep up with. it's about having amusement parks that allow you to ride a roller coaster when you feel the need. with these distractions come the noise, pollution and other distractions that staying in the country help you avoid. country living is about comfort not thrills, but the thrills can be missed.

stepping off the curb in decarbonated country does not come with the tension of dodging on-rushing taxis. this sounds like a good thing, until you find yourself wondering what will replace that tension. the flat, quiet country road is nice; easy to slowly glide down. but, the pace of city streets, even with congestion, horns and danger, is what is missed by a city kid as they travel that slow country road.

sometimes, noisy neighbors are good to have around. how long can a city kid watch puffy white clouds silently drift by?

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.

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.

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.

storm junkie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

packing system

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

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

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

so what do i need these bags for? the following is what i carry with me day to day:

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

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

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

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

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

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

coffee love

i tend to fall into patterns. the patterns of my life are both things that i decide upon and those that are thrust upon me with little or no control. i can refuse to accept some of these, but situation and responsibility come into the decision to break the pattern. other patterns are simple and easy to fall into because the first few times you do them it feels perfect and you find yourself doing it again. these are the patterns that make you who you are. they are the ones that you create for yourself and want to continue even when people question them.

i am in the middle of one of those patterns right now. i am sitting in a café with a bottle of water, a double espresso and blueberry pancake in front of me. when i came to malaysia i would eat local breakfast most days. “dua roti caini, kari ayam dan satu nescafe tarik”, but after about 9 months the desire to have something that felt more familiar came pushing back into my life. i found a bakery and switched to “un café express et un croissant, si vou plait” (only with the owner, otherwise it was back to english, bahasa or burmese i was reading from a book). after another year this also started to lose its ability to satisfy my need to feel at home, and i began to breakfast in my weekend café, the source of my pancakes, even during the week.

in all of this, there is only one constant… coffee. i have moved locations, cuisines and languages used to order (yes, most times english works, but what is the fun in that), but the coffee remains. it remains because at the root of all patterns, of all decisions that someone makes, there must be basic requirements. for me, starting a day requires caffeine. i woke up at 9:30 today, i left the house 4 hours later, it wasn’t until 2 in the afternoon that i got to my coffee, but for me this is the beginning of the day.

i was a coffee fan long before i drank it. i fondly remember my mother, aunts and grandmother sitting in nana’s kitchen, smoking cigarettes and sipping coffee from their saucers. they would pour their fresh perked, steaming hot, coffee onto the saucer and blow on it until they could sip. this was done with conversation and jokes flowing freely. my grandmother was the only quiet person in our family, a typical irish extended family, coming together around a table and laughing, crying or screaming at each other… sometimes all in the space of 20 minutes.

coffee is the drink that i found settled my mind when it is racing. growing up i always struggled with too many random thoughts coming and going as i was trying to focus. focus was hard to find, but came in the form of a bitter tasting black drink that can be had at any time day or night. luckily, it does not affect me by making me jittery… well it can, but it takes 15 shots of espresso a day over an extended period of time to get me there… ask me about the persumma year and i will tell you that it ended with me cutting back on coffee and realizing that everything has it’s limits. what coffee does for me is allow me to relax and settle down into a comfortable groove where my mind seems to flow rather than race. finding a way to feel this comfortable is what people search for their entire lives.

years ago, actually during the pursumma year, i was in line at starbucks, there was a queue 10 people deep, the barista was asking us if anyone wanted an espresso drink. i was in a snobby suburb outside of boston, and still most of them were drinking drip coffee not espresso… the lady in front of me and i both jumped up in line because our espresso drinks were done more quickly. i said to her “we have the perfect addiction”. she looked back at me with the “addiction?” look, but come on… “socially acceptable, cheap, available almost everywhere, easy to make for yourself” (the kids could make a solid latte on the home espresso machine at 8)… this is the kind of addiction you want in your life.

yes, my {beautiful indian} doctor reminds me that i should cut back, starting the day with 4 double espressos while i do email that tends push my day from dead stop to 100 miles an hour could be seen by others as a warning sign… but for me the coffee is the settling ingredient. it lets me focus for the next few hours… until the effects wear off and i start craving diet coke… yes, caffeine but not nearly as potent or enjoyable.

we start relationships with, “would you like to have coffee”. we extend dinners where the conversation is interesting and fun with, “why don’t we have coffee and look at the dessert menu”. we show friendship by remembering how someone takes their morning jolt. we show love by getting up early and making the coffee so we can bring the other person a cup while they shower…. it can be hot or cold, black, white or all the shades in between. everyone, all the way around the world, all levels of society, all races and religions drink coffee. any two people can sit and have a conversation over coffee… coffee is love in a cup.

i do fall into patterns. i do change my mind on things. i make plans and then alter them on the fly based on how i feel at the moment. but the one true constant in my life is that i know what i want right now, and every single morning… she is strong, black and makes me feel great… i love knowing that she is there for me.

my new drug

i come from a country which europeans consider overly conservative and prudish. this is the same country that asians consider dangerously liberal and much too permissive. i now live in a country with strict laws regarding adult behavior which is legal and accepted, or at least openly tolerated, at home. in the midst of this setting, i have a new drug. i have quickly and unexpectedly found that I do not want to live without it.

one of the things we taught our kids was that everyone has addictions. we have to be careful with the things we allow ourselves to become addicted to. some things are fully accepted (the perfect stimulant of caffeine), some are illegal and dangerous (ecstasy or heroin). some are cheap (chocolate); some are expensive beyond all reason (cocaine or golf). all things come with a cost and a benefit, we tried to teach the kids to consider this when we are trying new things.

when we watch ourselves begin to try and enjoy new things, we should focus on the why as much as the what. why we allow ourselves to become dependent on something is just as important as what the thing is. let’s say we become addicted to exercise. if the addiction is positive in that it helps us stay fit and remain active, that is a good. but if it’s based on narcissistic self focus which blurs all other human relations, that is a bad. it is true that most things good can be turned to evil if they are over indulged so good addiction is enjoying the dependence while retaining control and objectivity.

given all of these thoughts, i have come to realize i am a newly minted addict. i have tried a new drug and i love it. it alters my mood to the point of euphoria, it allows me to stay up all night long and talk about random things. it then helps me sleep the deepest and most restful sleep i have ever experienced. it also gives me a quiet sense of comfort that is so refreshing and wonderful i never want it to stop.

it is simple to get, it has caused no negative side effects and as far as i know it is legal everywhere in the world. i am an addict. i have begun to plan my days to allow me to have the smallest taste of the drug. i have gotten to the office late; i have delayed work to give me time to wrap myself in the warm embrace of the drug.

this would normally scare me to death; i know i am seeding control of my life. i don’t care. i want the high more than i want the control. we addicts become skilled at making rationalizations. i am hooked and there is little chance that i will go back to living without it. unless my friends sense that i need an intervention, i will continue. but i have talked to my close friends about it, and they are telling me to take the drug, because i have not been so happy and alive in a very long time.

this is the answer to why i am taking it. it makes me happy. it has helped me start dreaming again, it has made me see the world with a new clarity and hope. it has opened parts of me which i had closed, closed even to friends who mean the world to me. i am a better person when i am on the drug. i am a happy addict.

“pick your addictions” is the best advice i have ever heard, or given. in this case, i have picked, i have picked that this is the one for me.