I have let myself go. I am no longer where I thought I was, and where I think I want to get to. Its been a rough few days. Life came at me on too many fronts and I didn't know which way to turn. And I didn't react well.
It may not happen to everyone, but it happens to a lot of people. And to some personality types it just overwhelms you.
I've written before that I have 2 competing people inside of me. A friend had me redo my personality traits using a DISC personality profile and it was obvious they were in there: the worker (apparent a D-type personality) and the home-body (a C-type). But when they try and cross over things can go really awry. I have to be honest with myself now that I am multifaceted and that's just who I am. I can change things but I can't break them.
But rewinding a little, there have been some truths said in the last few days that have made that all different. And I was noticing it today. I was down at the Mall... it doesnt matter where but at the time it was in Nordstrom's. I'm not sure why I was in there. I'm more of a Macy's person when I let lose my "metro" side. Which has been under the covers too long - you still see the vestiges of it these days - the Gucci watch, the LV wallet, the tiger's eye sapphire. But its been hidden for a while.
Being in Nordstrom for a man is a little intimidating. You can feel the sales girls following you. "Can I help you?", "Can I show you anything?", "Can I help you find what you are looking for?". I know they are told to do this. But for me I didn't have a list. But I did do something I hadn't done before. I looked them in the eye and, while I didn't want help, told them so politely. Most customers I realized didn't do that... they'd give a short "no" or "no thanks". I tried to come up with full sentences. "How are you today, sir?" (okay the sir bit rankles me - I'm not gentleman), "Fine thank you, and yourself?". Much nicer.
It may not be a full on social butterfly, but you could tell that these people weren't used to getting this. After all this was Nordstrom at the most upscale mall in Silicon Valley. Oh no - they are here to SERVE you. Perfect hair, nails and black high heeled boots and all (maybe that's why I was there!).
But the things that I have learned about myself, on my 200mph roller coaster the last few days is that you have to be open and honest. You have to respect people. Feel them out a bit.
In the end I did find what I was looking for. And the sales person gave me an extra discount (don't believe that they can't to do that). I swear she winked at me too. I can dream! She was very chatty about... you know I don't remember... it was like she wasn't going through the motions like the other sales people. Who knows, it may have been an act, but watching it from a distance I don't think so.
And perhaps I will embrace my metro side more now. I have the desire to become who I want to be. But not leave people in my wake. Bring them along for the ride too. Its fun when the breaks work and the hairpins aren't too sharp.
I will embrace where I am and where I'm going. I will make those changes. I had started. And now I will finish. But this time I will cross the right finish line. And I will make that list of what I want to do and how I need to get there. It may not be as complete as others but it will be a start. A small step in the right direction.
It needs to be a small step to let others keep up :)
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
Bamboo Rain
There are some nice things about living on a small private street somewhat off the beaten track but still in the middle of a big city, with only one way in and a wall blocking the other end of the street. Mostly its due to the fact that there is never any traffic on the road (well short of some of the trafficking 3 doors down), which means that, come a nice Sunday afternoon in January - temperature 70F and climbing - you get to sit out on the front of the yard and recover from an otherwise dreary start to the new year. At this time of year the back of the house is still off limits as the sun still isn't getting high enough to hit the majority of the yard and the air gets trapped, so it sits about 10 degrees colder. How on earth the lime tree expects to grown fruit I have no idea but it tries.
So, the back of the house is out, but the front, out near the road, is a good place to perch and grab a sly Sunday afternoon beer.
Mind you its not that sly when the entire neighbourhood is out. All the kids on their bikes and roller skates. The guy 2 doors down moving out in order to rent. The next door neighbour practicing his golf swing in the garage (with his new "artificial golf tee" - no doubt a Christmas present). A bit of a Park Life really. But all calm and happy and peaceful in the world.
Earlier on I touched on the wall at the end of the street. It deserves a little more of a mention at this point as its about to become the focal point of the story. Its pink. Big and pink. And "guards" the street from the house around the corner, shielding us with a big grove of bamboo - on their side of the wall. Quite a tall clump really - maybe 25-30 feet tall.
Which is what made the next few minutes somewhat surprising. Suddenly it started raining bamboo. Slowly at first. Just a few leaves and twigs. One by one they started flying over the wall, twisting and swirling down to earth. But then it started gathering pace. First one big branch, then another, some more leaves and then big clump of bamboo. Overall around 50 of the tall stems came flying over the wall and into the middle of the road. It was quite incredible to watch and even now you see it in the mind's eye in slow motion. A pile of bamboo forming on the road, on our side of the wall not theirs.
Eventually there was about a 5 foot pile of bamboo remnants just sitting there.
What to do? The ideal answer would probably have been to gone over there and just tip it all back. But quite frankly we were all somewhat happy as it is quite an eyesore. So a few loud comments amongst all assembled (how passive aggressive!) and the rain started to stop. Thinking back - dumping it all back over the wall would have been the better course of action. However on of the neighbors on our street broke down and cleared it up. It probably had something to do with wanting to be able to drive out later in the day.
So chalk that up to another idiot who doesn't understand that we all have to live together and dumping your trash somewhere else doesn't make it magically go away.
Still, it did provide a talking point for everyone while we finished the beers.
So, the back of the house is out, but the front, out near the road, is a good place to perch and grab a sly Sunday afternoon beer.
Mind you its not that sly when the entire neighbourhood is out. All the kids on their bikes and roller skates. The guy 2 doors down moving out in order to rent. The next door neighbour practicing his golf swing in the garage (with his new "artificial golf tee" - no doubt a Christmas present). A bit of a Park Life really. But all calm and happy and peaceful in the world.
Earlier on I touched on the wall at the end of the street. It deserves a little more of a mention at this point as its about to become the focal point of the story. Its pink. Big and pink. And "guards" the street from the house around the corner, shielding us with a big grove of bamboo - on their side of the wall. Quite a tall clump really - maybe 25-30 feet tall.
Which is what made the next few minutes somewhat surprising. Suddenly it started raining bamboo. Slowly at first. Just a few leaves and twigs. One by one they started flying over the wall, twisting and swirling down to earth. But then it started gathering pace. First one big branch, then another, some more leaves and then big clump of bamboo. Overall around 50 of the tall stems came flying over the wall and into the middle of the road. It was quite incredible to watch and even now you see it in the mind's eye in slow motion. A pile of bamboo forming on the road, on our side of the wall not theirs.
Eventually there was about a 5 foot pile of bamboo remnants just sitting there.
What to do? The ideal answer would probably have been to gone over there and just tip it all back. But quite frankly we were all somewhat happy as it is quite an eyesore. So a few loud comments amongst all assembled (how passive aggressive!) and the rain started to stop. Thinking back - dumping it all back over the wall would have been the better course of action. However on of the neighbors on our street broke down and cleared it up. It probably had something to do with wanting to be able to drive out later in the day.
So chalk that up to another idiot who doesn't understand that we all have to live together and dumping your trash somewhere else doesn't make it magically go away.
Still, it did provide a talking point for everyone while we finished the beers.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Opening a Dialogue with myself
Having spent the morning preparing a 10 pager on various business models for the team, it seemed like a good idea to take a break and write some non-technical work. I was torn initially between a blog post or one of the other "projects" I'm working on.
I hate that term though: one of my projects. It sounds like something a washed up 80s rocker says when leaving a band after 20 years in an attempt to stay current... 'We had a few disagreements creatively so I am moving on to resurrect some other projects". Cue a song reference or two (HMHB springs to mind off the top of the head). They aren't so much projects as ways of releasing my brain from thinking about work issues. Put brain in neutral, engage fingers, see where we end up. Be it with music, games, or writing. Just turn off that stream of consciousness (or on depending upon your view), and lets see where we get too.
Which is how, I now remember now why I don't write dialogue. Its hard and eventually it ends up coming out all wrong. Its a skill set that only some of the very best writes manage to make work. I believe that the likes of Pratchett, Ranking and Holt make it sound more realistic that the likes of King or Preston. Which is strange given the fact that humor doesn't always need the dialogue to move it along, whereas thrillers need it more to try and pick up the pace and fill in the details.
But as I said, when I write it, it comes out stale and uninteresting. Take the following exchange from the other day (cue wavy lines as we fade back a couple of days - they do it so much better in the movies than you can hope to in text):
There we were (myself and a co-worker type), sitting in a Burmese restaurant in San Francisco (on the corner of Bryant and some other street, just under the I-80 Freeway for those who like the exact details). Sitting. Waiting. Menus in hand. Already sure of what we wanted (lunch #3 again for those wanting details). In comes another group. They sit. They get menus. They order. Sitting. Waiting. In comes a 3rd group. They sit. They get menus. They order. Now am have the patience of Job most of the time (another HMHB reference - two in one post... oops).
But that did it. Off I went up to the counter.
"Is there any danger of us ordering?", I asked in a most passive aggressive manner. I like rhetorical questions.
Cue stunned look from PFY behind counter. "No" he said.
[Wavy lines back to present].
So there are a few things we can draw from this. Firstly, its a good story up until the dialogue starts, at least in my opinion. But it dissolves from there. It doesn't help that you, the reader, don't know that the 2 PFYs (Pimply Faced Youth) behind the counter (combined age maybe 32, 34 tops), have been moving at a pace that would make a snail ashamed. When an order came up to the window they managed to take it all a plate at a time to each table. Literally one plate at a time. Secondly the shear exertion that it took to get a response just isn't adequately portrayed. it was like watching the start of the next ice age in real time as the PFYBTC tried to answer a question that doesn't have one. You could see the thought processes ripple across his face, furrowing his brow in slow motion as he tried to work out if "yes" or "no" was the correct answer. Neither was working for him.
But I must say the food was good (try it if you are every in the area, but I would recommend the Thai on Brennan between 4th and 3rd if you are in that SOMA area - Koi Samui and The Monkey I believe). And we did get a 25% discount too for "the wait". So it wasn't all bad. Of course they did probably divest some mucous into the food at some point when we weren't looking.
Oh I don't want to think about that or go there.
I hate that term though: one of my projects. It sounds like something a washed up 80s rocker says when leaving a band after 20 years in an attempt to stay current... 'We had a few disagreements creatively so I am moving on to resurrect some other projects". Cue a song reference or two (HMHB springs to mind off the top of the head). They aren't so much projects as ways of releasing my brain from thinking about work issues. Put brain in neutral, engage fingers, see where we end up. Be it with music, games, or writing. Just turn off that stream of consciousness (or on depending upon your view), and lets see where we get too.
Which is how, I now remember now why I don't write dialogue. Its hard and eventually it ends up coming out all wrong. Its a skill set that only some of the very best writes manage to make work. I believe that the likes of Pratchett, Ranking and Holt make it sound more realistic that the likes of King or Preston. Which is strange given the fact that humor doesn't always need the dialogue to move it along, whereas thrillers need it more to try and pick up the pace and fill in the details.
But as I said, when I write it, it comes out stale and uninteresting. Take the following exchange from the other day (cue wavy lines as we fade back a couple of days - they do it so much better in the movies than you can hope to in text):
There we were (myself and a co-worker type), sitting in a Burmese restaurant in San Francisco (on the corner of Bryant and some other street, just under the I-80 Freeway for those who like the exact details). Sitting. Waiting. Menus in hand. Already sure of what we wanted (lunch #3 again for those wanting details). In comes another group. They sit. They get menus. They order. Sitting. Waiting. In comes a 3rd group. They sit. They get menus. They order. Now am have the patience of Job most of the time (another HMHB reference - two in one post... oops).
But that did it. Off I went up to the counter.
"Is there any danger of us ordering?", I asked in a most passive aggressive manner. I like rhetorical questions.
Cue stunned look from PFY behind counter. "No" he said.
[Wavy lines back to present].
So there are a few things we can draw from this. Firstly, its a good story up until the dialogue starts, at least in my opinion. But it dissolves from there. It doesn't help that you, the reader, don't know that the 2 PFYs (Pimply Faced Youth) behind the counter (combined age maybe 32, 34 tops), have been moving at a pace that would make a snail ashamed. When an order came up to the window they managed to take it all a plate at a time to each table. Literally one plate at a time. Secondly the shear exertion that it took to get a response just isn't adequately portrayed. it was like watching the start of the next ice age in real time as the PFYBTC tried to answer a question that doesn't have one. You could see the thought processes ripple across his face, furrowing his brow in slow motion as he tried to work out if "yes" or "no" was the correct answer. Neither was working for him.
But I must say the food was good (try it if you are every in the area, but I would recommend the Thai on Brennan between 4th and 3rd if you are in that SOMA area - Koi Samui and The Monkey I believe). And we did get a 25% discount too for "the wait". So it wasn't all bad. Of course they did probably divest some mucous into the food at some point when we weren't looking.
Oh I don't want to think about that or go there.
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