Category: General Musings

There are three kinds of people:

* Those that have the answers.

* Those that don't have the answers, but are willing to find them.

and

* Those that don't have the answers, and expect a member of the first two groups to figure it out for them.

At some point, each of us has been a member of all three groups.

We've all been the subject matter expert. We've all had to figure out how to program the microwave by ourselves. And we've all been too lazy to troubleshoot the problems with our computers and asked a 'knowledgeable' friend to fix it for us (well, maybe not all of us – but you get the idea).

And this is normal. Rather than self-diagnosing the weird lump on your elbow, it's more convenient (not to mention safer) to go to someone who's spent years studying for just such a purpose.

My quarrel is with those who make a lifestyle out of it.

There is someone in your place of work, right now, who manages to make the simplest tasks sound like astrophysics. They need a lot of attention. They've forgotten where the files are, despite having been told their exact location minutes earlier. In fact, you're pretty sure you saw them rifling through it when you came in that morning. It appears their impressive self-reliance recedes in the presence of other people.

It's as if competence is a secret to be learned.

Here's the secret!

Break the habit of looking to others for answers before trying to find them on your own. It'll only take you five minutes and I promise that in the long run, you'll save time, earn the respect of others, and become a billionaire. 

Scout's honor.

She was my little rain making machine.

       a baptismal font

           Artemis's bathing pool

               my vial of sweet poison

                      and her heart bled

               through her eyes

           until all of my sins

       were washed

    away

For the most part, the words I have scribbled off in the corner over there are true: Everything that matters about me can be found in the writing.

Drawing back the curtain on a writer can reveal truths that will ultimately change the way their words are read, and I want my words to exist beyond their connection to me. But such desires are foolish. Blog writing is an exercise in intimacy.

So I expose small pieces of myself, the ones I believe to be related to my writing, and hope it is enough.

Here are a few pieces.

I graduated from a small college with a degree in English and Artificial Intelligence, an interdisciplinary major (’student-designed’). The degree was a reflection of my interests; I always thought I would get a degree in English, but I realized half way through college that I had little interest in any of the traditional occupations related to English (with a capital ‘E’). So I focused on my other favorite hobby, computers. I was lucky, in that the college I attended had a computer professor who specialized in AI. I took several of his courses, including Natural Language Processing, and found that the two disciplines could be connected.

After graduating, I tried a few jobs before getting lucky and finding a position at a company still going through the last few spurts of dot.com growth. I picked up some real-world skills and parlayed them into a career.

In my field, I’ve done everything from handling front-line support (taking calls from irate customers), to managing a team of technicians responsible for the well-being of a national ISP backbone, to maintaining a mission-critical network that supports scientific research.

I've got excellent friends; and in excellent, I mean they've helped me move three times in four years (I know people who would help you bury a body before helping you move that many times).

I'm just over thirty with most of my life ahead of me. I have a house with a window in the study that looks out over a stream, two cats who keep the ghosts at bay, and enough money to indulge in most of my vices.

Now if only I could keep out of trouble.

Some days, we can either wake up happy or go to sleep happy.

But we can't do both.

I’ve been having arguments with my inner voice.

For the past few weeks, I’ve been favoring background music over the white-noise generated by talk radio, audio books, and television. I’ve been giving myself room to think.

At least that’s what I thought I was doing. In truth, I wasn’t doing much thinking. Instead, I was attempting to open the door to my subconscious and trying to steer the boat from the back. But that back room is a dark and crowded place; in there, it is easier to catch smoke than it is to pin down a thought.

And trying to run things from back there is like walking through a pitch-black room where the furniture is constantly moving and invisible gnomes take turns alternatively kicking you in the shins and nibbling on your calves (in an uncomfortably arousing way). Running things from back there leads to frustration and confusion; and if you get stubborn enough not to back off, you’re more than likely going to blow a fuse.

All of which didn’t stop me from trying to do so.

Today, I finally resigned myself to closing that door (well, I did leave it cracked). So now, I am back in the front room. My voice, here, is much clearer. It lives only in the present (but can artfully consider both past and future). It is roomier in the front, and well-lit.

At work, I sit about ten feet from one of the entrance doors. Access is conveniently provided by the mystical waving of a small plastic badge at a black box mounted on the wall beside the door. The premise is simple: wave badge, door opens. No badge, no access through this door.

When someone has difficulty getting in – say, they forget their badge, their badge isn't working, or they left their R2 droid unit at home – they will, more often then not, forgo the twenty second walk around to the front set of doors (where sits a receptionist whose actual job duties include providing entrance to visitors and badge-less employees), and in defiance as such silly principles as logic will attempt to gain entrance through *this* door anyways.

It starts with attempting to open the door through conventional means. This will go on for a good fifteen seconds as they jiggle the handle, rapidly twisting it up and down. The first nine seconds of jiggling are spent hoping that this will be the moment their mutant powers kick in, that their latent magical abilities will suddenly manifest themselves, or that they might experience a spiritual awakening along with the gift of miracle working. Inevitably, they are forced to confront the failure of their dreams and spend the next six seconds working the handle loudly in a subtle hint that someone on the inside should take pity on them and come open the door.

When this fails, they move on to the more direct tactic of knocking. At this point, someone on the inside either gets irritated enough to stop their work and open the door or the person gives up and goes around to the front desk. This can take anywhere from thirty seconds to several minutes.

I'm not heartless. After hours, when the receptionist is not around, I will often pause my work and let someone in. But the rest of the time I turn up the volume on my iPod and ignore the pounding on the doors.

A whole new level of idiocy began this week.

The little black box died. Someone attached a large note, covering the black box, that states in clear English: "Badge reader is broken. Please go through the front entrance." It is irritating, having to walk around to the front, mostly due to my habit of approaching the door, remembering that it is broken, and back-tracking around.

But I can read English. I know the door is broken. So I go around.

Apparently, literacy is a true issue in our country because a large number of individuals ignore the note and try to come in through the door anyways.

I'm tempted to put an even larger note on the door that says, "39% of DC residents are illiterate. If you're reading this, you're one of the educated 61% percent. Put your education to work and go to the front."

Oh, and because I am a nice guy, I'll add a quick, "Have a great day!" at the end.

With a smiley face.

Because I'm that nice.

What can be said for the path not tread?

— 

Liz,

You may be following the path behind me, but what follows in your wake?

Nympho,

As much as I generally enjoy my life, and the devilry I engage in, my preference is for the words themselves and the needs and desires that drive them.

Still, how could I refuse? It may not be soul-bearing, but I'll pull back the curtain just a bit.

Melanie and Janie,

My love for the written word is a love for the spoken as well.

Lea, Santina, and Sangre,

I am not leaving; even should I stop writing here, I'll be around.

I continue to write. 

Kochanie,

Lovely Magdelena can never truly be caught; only held momentarily, a promise made of shadows, sweet and dark.

Huni,

Sometimes we are safest when all the lights are out.

Siobhan,

Actually, the picture is from a trip six years ago. But I do plan to go back.

Be back May 1st, 2007.
(see note below)

There is a moment that I believe most of us share. A moment where we see someone, reflect on their appearance or behavior, and think, ‘I’ll never let myself look like that,’ or ‘I could never let myself do that.’.

Life has a way of mocking that kind of thinking. Inevitably, we end up acting just like that. Looking just like that.

I’m a strong individual (some might simply call me stubborn). I consider myself unique (don’t we all), but I’ve come to understand that placing myself on a particular path will undeniably lead to results similar to those experienced by everyone else who has walked the same path. I’ve always assumed that my nature will protect me from the changes inherent in certain lifestyles. And, to an extent, it has and will.

But it won’t eliminate the changes, merely mitigate them.

Which means, when I consider my life and the choices ahead of me, I need to consider the frank reality of what changes will accompany each path – and decide if the person I am at the end of that road is one I want to be.

—

Like last year, it is time for me to take a month off and give myself enough space to decide where I want to go next with this small dark corner of my world. Should I continue experimenting with audio posts? Should I try my hand at longer stories? Should I keep my posting schedule, or pull back? Stay with the topics I feel comfortable with, or expand into other areas? And, of course, just how much longer do I want to keep writing here?

I invite you to send me your thoughts and questions. If there is anything you are curious about, ask. If there is something in particular that you’ve enjoyed, now is the time to tell me. Place a comment here and I promise to answer each one when I return in May.