And now, a word from Steve Miller
If I buy a certain combination of tickets for my next business trip, I could very well find myself in airports in ... Phoenix, Ariz., Tacoma, Philadelphia, Atlanta and LA.
There. Now the song's stuck in your head, too. Keep on a-rockin' me, baby.
Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Tuesday, March 30, 2004
Worth a look
Because he said it better than I would have, I'll send you over here this evening. Share his relief, remind yourself you've been there (and you have; and I sure as hell have) and remember to please be careful, for yourself and for those around you.
And, another quick trip elsewhere: Run over here and drop Mrs. Otis a line telling her how beautiful she looks. New life is the coolest thing ever, and it's always worth celebrating.
Because he said it better than I would have, I'll send you over here this evening. Share his relief, remind yourself you've been there (and you have; and I sure as hell have) and remember to please be careful, for yourself and for those around you.
And, another quick trip elsewhere: Run over here and drop Mrs. Otis a line telling her how beautiful she looks. New life is the coolest thing ever, and it's always worth celebrating.
Man, it sure is dark at this hour
For no good reason, I'm starting my day at 4:48 a.m. I have no earthly idea why, and I doubt I'll receive any benefit by doing so. But my body has told me in no uncertain terms, "Hey, it's time to get up." So, I'm up.
Back to the office today after essentially two full weeks on the road. I vaguely remember how to get there (point car westbound on the interstate and wake up in an hour and a half, is how I recall it).
From the Things that Don't Really Matter file:
One of the, um, great things about working for a company that's based in Europe is that when I wake up in the wee hours, I already have lots of e-mail. The latest involves some sort of controversy in which I find myself squarely in the middle. This is a lot of fun for me, as the new guy. New people generally just do what they're asked to do. As somebody who's been the new person -- and who's had to work with lots of new people -- I think it generally helps when, if the new person is asked to do something, the existing people know from where the order came. Nothing worse around the office than a lone-wolf new person. Apparently I've been asked to do something which has strongly offended at least one Existing Person, an Existing Person who happens to be in a time zone six hours ahead of mine. But in my string of correspondence regarding the situation, I have been careful to document exactly what I have been asked to do and why I've been asked to do it -- not in an effort to duck responsibility, but in an effort to let people six time zones away know what I'm doing.
Apparently that wasn't good enough. So, I have no idea what I'm going to walk into at the western terminus of my Temporary Long Commute in a few hours. This is the life I've chosen.
Things that do matter:
The Boy turns 5 today. We took advantage of my day off yesterday to celebrate. One of our stops was a go-kart track, which has some vehicles specially built for kids his age. To say he took to it quickly would be the understatement of this or any century. The kid is a natural behind the wheel, which, frankly, doesn't bode well for his parents' future sanity. It took him about two laps to figure out he could keep Dad from passing him by simply driving in front of him. He almost pinched me into the wall, Earnhardt-style, four times. After the fun, of course, comes the presents. He received a pirate ship, a pirate castle, a book about pirates ... you get the picture. The Boy likes his pirate stuff.
It's fun to celebrate The Boy, because he's a lot of fun, and because he was in many ways a triumph. Astute mathematicians will note there are a lot of numbers between the ages of our first and second children. We didn't really intend for it to happen that way, but nature deals the cards, and she dealt us a few really bad hands between 1997 and 1999. You never really forget an experience like that. But days like yesterday remind you why you put yourself through it.
For no good reason, I'm starting my day at 4:48 a.m. I have no earthly idea why, and I doubt I'll receive any benefit by doing so. But my body has told me in no uncertain terms, "Hey, it's time to get up." So, I'm up.
Back to the office today after essentially two full weeks on the road. I vaguely remember how to get there (point car westbound on the interstate and wake up in an hour and a half, is how I recall it).
From the Things that Don't Really Matter file:
Apparently that wasn't good enough. So, I have no idea what I'm going to walk into at the western terminus of my Temporary Long Commute in a few hours. This is the life I've chosen.
Things that do matter:
It's fun to celebrate The Boy, because he's a lot of fun, and because he was in many ways a triumph. Astute mathematicians will note there are a lot of numbers between the ages of our first and second children. We didn't really intend for it to happen that way, but nature deals the cards, and she dealt us a few really bad hands between 1997 and 1999. You never really forget an experience like that. But days like yesterday remind you why you put yourself through it.
Sunday, March 28, 2004
The mystery of me
It has been noted that I've been away for a while. That's because, well, I've been away for a while. I've been to the Lehigh Valley, I've been to a nondescript small town in South Carolina, I've been to the middle of Connecticut and I've had my breath stolen by the beauty of the Pacific Northwest. I've been to towns that barely exist, and to towns that probably shouldn't exist. It's been a wild ride, and if I tried to tell you I've enjoyed every minute of it, I'd be lying through my teeth.
But I've enjoyed a lot of it, and I'm certainly learning a lot about the country into which I've been born. It's fascinating to travel the United States during an election year, certainly. I'm still trying to figure out the differences between each different part of the nation I've seen. So far, all I can see is what's the same. You can pick up CNN and Rush Limbaugh no matter where you are. I wake up with Soledad O'Brien in the red states and in the blue states. People in Connecticut are just as likely as people in Washington state to think Bill Clinton was a sex fiend and nothing else. George W. Bush will probably win South Carolina, and Pennsylvania, and Florida, and every other state I've visited, and most of the states I haven't. I'm not sure what to think about that, other than that being president of the United States shouldn't be as easy as George W. Bush makes it look.
I miss my family when I'm on the road. I miss them a lot, and it makes me question why the hell I made this particular career choice. But I enjoy the work I do when I'm on the road, and it beats the crap out of sitting behind the same desk and dealing with the same people day after day after day. I enjoy the work I do when I'm on the road much more than I enjoy the work I do when I commute an hour and a half to the home office. But I'm not sure it's worth the price I'm paying in time lost with my wife and children. This is the battle that wages inside my head, minute after minute of every day.
I wonder what I'm going to be doing with my life this time next year. George W. Bush knows what he's going to be doing this time next year; he's going to be president, whether anybody wants him to be or not, and he'll likely be contemplating yet another invasion of Iraq because the last one felt so damn good. Osama bin Laden will still be incognito somewhere near Peshawar or Poughkeepsie, there might or might not have been another terrorist attack somewhere (and how quickly we've forgotten about Madrid! Always take the under on Americans' attention span) and I'll still be wondering why the hell I'm doing whatever I'm doing with my life, no matter what it is. (By way of weak explanation, and as perhaps a crucial setup, I refer you back to this, which I batted out long, long before I had any idea I'd be doing what I'm doing now.)
The company for which I work sells software to newspapers, mostly small newspapers. I've seen newsrooms far smaller than any I've ever seen before. I feel like a major-league player who rose fast through the ranks and retired too young, now checking out locker rooms in Class A for the first time and wondering why the hell anybody would be there voluntarily. These newsrooms, like most Class A teams, are populated by two kinds of people: the ones who are trying to get the hell out and the ones who never will. The upside: They're also largely populated by people who believe deeply in what they're doing. The managing editor of the small paper in South Carolina genuinely loves being the managing editor of a small paper in his Palmetto hometown. I think that's every bit as cool as working for the eighth-largest newspaper in the country, as I did. I probably never enjoyed that job as much as he enjoys his.
I'm learning a lot on this journey. I'm learning a lot about my country. I'm learning a lot about my capacity to endure. And I'm learning a lot about myself. Somewhere in there, I need to install some software. I'll get to that. Right now, the other stuff might very well be more important.
It has been noted that I've been away for a while. That's because, well, I've been away for a while. I've been to the Lehigh Valley, I've been to a nondescript small town in South Carolina, I've been to the middle of Connecticut and I've had my breath stolen by the beauty of the Pacific Northwest. I've been to towns that barely exist, and to towns that probably shouldn't exist. It's been a wild ride, and if I tried to tell you I've enjoyed every minute of it, I'd be lying through my teeth.
But I've enjoyed a lot of it, and I'm certainly learning a lot about the country into which I've been born. It's fascinating to travel the United States during an election year, certainly. I'm still trying to figure out the differences between each different part of the nation I've seen. So far, all I can see is what's the same. You can pick up CNN and Rush Limbaugh no matter where you are. I wake up with Soledad O'Brien in the red states and in the blue states. People in Connecticut are just as likely as people in Washington state to think Bill Clinton was a sex fiend and nothing else. George W. Bush will probably win South Carolina, and Pennsylvania, and Florida, and every other state I've visited, and most of the states I haven't. I'm not sure what to think about that, other than that being president of the United States shouldn't be as easy as George W. Bush makes it look.
I miss my family when I'm on the road. I miss them a lot, and it makes me question why the hell I made this particular career choice. But I enjoy the work I do when I'm on the road, and it beats the crap out of sitting behind the same desk and dealing with the same people day after day after day. I enjoy the work I do when I'm on the road much more than I enjoy the work I do when I commute an hour and a half to the home office. But I'm not sure it's worth the price I'm paying in time lost with my wife and children. This is the battle that wages inside my head, minute after minute of every day.
I wonder what I'm going to be doing with my life this time next year. George W. Bush knows what he's going to be doing this time next year; he's going to be president, whether anybody wants him to be or not, and he'll likely be contemplating yet another invasion of Iraq because the last one felt so damn good. Osama bin Laden will still be incognito somewhere near Peshawar or Poughkeepsie, there might or might not have been another terrorist attack somewhere (and how quickly we've forgotten about Madrid! Always take the under on Americans' attention span) and I'll still be wondering why the hell I'm doing whatever I'm doing with my life, no matter what it is. (By way of weak explanation, and as perhaps a crucial setup, I refer you back to this, which I batted out long, long before I had any idea I'd be doing what I'm doing now.)
The company for which I work sells software to newspapers, mostly small newspapers. I've seen newsrooms far smaller than any I've ever seen before. I feel like a major-league player who rose fast through the ranks and retired too young, now checking out locker rooms in Class A for the first time and wondering why the hell anybody would be there voluntarily. These newsrooms, like most Class A teams, are populated by two kinds of people: the ones who are trying to get the hell out and the ones who never will. The upside: They're also largely populated by people who believe deeply in what they're doing. The managing editor of the small paper in South Carolina genuinely loves being the managing editor of a small paper in his Palmetto hometown. I think that's every bit as cool as working for the eighth-largest newspaper in the country, as I did. I probably never enjoyed that job as much as he enjoys his.
I'm learning a lot on this journey. I'm learning a lot about my country. I'm learning a lot about my capacity to endure. And I'm learning a lot about myself. Somewhere in there, I need to install some software. I'll get to that. Right now, the other stuff might very well be more important.
Friday, March 26, 2004
Another idea, stolen
Many thanks to RER and, by extension, Up for Anything. This requires I fill in some blanks:
I AM: Sitting in Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, waiting for a flight that leaves at 11:15 p.m. PST, alternately excited and frightened by the career choice I have made which has caused me to question my intelligence, caused me to wonder if I've led my family down the wrong path and is currently causing me to be sitting on my ass in Seattle-Tacoma International Airport.
I WANT: My children to never lose the ability to be shocked, my wife to be happy and content and fulfilled in the home she has built, and a black Corvette convertible.
I HAVE: A teddy bear that my wife gave to me 17 years ago, long before she was my wife. She gave it to me when I was a sportswriter spending a lot of time on the road (although back then, I was much more likely to be stuck in a cafe in Stockton, Mo., than in Seattle-Tacoma International Airport.) The bear fit very nicely between the front seats of my truck. It is a small, light brown bear, with a little medal dangling from its neck which reads, "Take Me Home."
I WISH: I wasn't sitting in a middle seat on this overnight flight from Seattle to the other Edge of America.
I HATE: That I have to question everything I do to the point of creating this mental inertia that turns all of my fears and neuroses into prophecies which very efficently fulfill themselves.
I FEAR: Having to do something I don't want to do.
I HEAR: People having a conversation in an Asian language ... a young child screaming ... the voices inside my head ... a girl talking on her cell phone to her friend back in Georgia about how much she drank over spring break ... the CNN Airport Network.
I WONDER: Why I can't just be happy in the moment.
I REGRET: Nothing, really, although one could certainly argue that I should. I've learned a hell of a lot from the myriad mistakes I have made. Occasionally, I even apply that knowledge.
I LOVE: My wife's awful morning breath, the Young Daughter's 100-decibel voice, the Old Daughter's never-ending inquisitiveness, the Boy's full-speed approach to being almost 5, the sight of the ocean, the sight of the mountains, my wife's never-ending support even when I've done nothing to deserve it.
I ALWAYS: Think I should have done more.
I AM NOT: Bound by tradition, dogma, doctrine or superstition.
I DANCE: With my daughters.
I SING: ... but really, I shouldn't.
I CRY: when I read sad news stories, when I hear beautiful songs, when somebody does something nice for me.
Many thanks to RER and, by extension, Up for Anything. This requires I fill in some blanks:
I AM: Sitting in Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, waiting for a flight that leaves at 11:15 p.m. PST, alternately excited and frightened by the career choice I have made which has caused me to question my intelligence, caused me to wonder if I've led my family down the wrong path and is currently causing me to be sitting on my ass in Seattle-Tacoma International Airport.
I WANT: My children to never lose the ability to be shocked, my wife to be happy and content and fulfilled in the home she has built, and a black Corvette convertible.
I HAVE: A teddy bear that my wife gave to me 17 years ago, long before she was my wife. She gave it to me when I was a sportswriter spending a lot of time on the road (although back then, I was much more likely to be stuck in a cafe in Stockton, Mo., than in Seattle-Tacoma International Airport.) The bear fit very nicely between the front seats of my truck. It is a small, light brown bear, with a little medal dangling from its neck which reads, "Take Me Home."
I WISH: I wasn't sitting in a middle seat on this overnight flight from Seattle to the other Edge of America.
I HATE: That I have to question everything I do to the point of creating this mental inertia that turns all of my fears and neuroses into prophecies which very efficently fulfill themselves.
I FEAR: Having to do something I don't want to do.
I HEAR: People having a conversation in an Asian language ... a young child screaming ... the voices inside my head ... a girl talking on her cell phone to her friend back in Georgia about how much she drank over spring break ... the CNN Airport Network.
I WONDER: Why I can't just be happy in the moment.
I REGRET: Nothing, really, although one could certainly argue that I should. I've learned a hell of a lot from the myriad mistakes I have made. Occasionally, I even apply that knowledge.
I LOVE: My wife's awful morning breath, the Young Daughter's 100-decibel voice, the Old Daughter's never-ending inquisitiveness, the Boy's full-speed approach to being almost 5, the sight of the ocean, the sight of the mountains, my wife's never-ending support even when I've done nothing to deserve it.
I ALWAYS: Think I should have done more.
I AM NOT: Bound by tradition, dogma, doctrine or superstition.
I DANCE: With my daughters.
I SING: ... but really, I shouldn't.
I CRY: when I read sad news stories, when I hear beautiful songs, when somebody does something nice for me.
Saturday, March 13, 2004
Thursday, March 11, 2004
Datelines
Today: Sumter, S.C.
Two days ago: Lehighton, Pa. (Stayed at a very cool Victorian hotel that I'd highly recommend if you ever find yourself in the foothills of the Poconos.)
Week after next: Bremerton, Wash.
I already have qualified for a free ticket on US Airways. I saw the Manhattan skyline from the window of the Newark airport. I've learned a lot about all kinds of stuff I didn't know.
And yeah, I'm kind of wondering how the hell I got here and whether I made the right decision. That little speck disappearing from sight below is my comfort zone. That's a good thing. I think.
Tomorrow night: Home. Looking forward to it, for so many reasons.
Today: Sumter, S.C.
Two days ago: Lehighton, Pa. (Stayed at a very cool Victorian hotel that I'd highly recommend if you ever find yourself in the foothills of the Poconos.)
Week after next: Bremerton, Wash.
I already have qualified for a free ticket on US Airways. I saw the Manhattan skyline from the window of the Newark airport. I've learned a lot about all kinds of stuff I didn't know.
And yeah, I'm kind of wondering how the hell I got here and whether I made the right decision. That little speck disappearing from sight below is my comfort zone. That's a good thing. I think.
Tomorrow night: Home. Looking forward to it, for so many reasons.