Clearing the cobwebs

See, the problem is, that when I have good subject matter with which to work and still find a way to make it boring, that’s when I start to think I don’t know how to do this anymore. Some people – real professionals – would say "you have to write through it," the same way a major-league hitter would try to get out of a slump. And that might work. But instead, I just crawl into a shell, try to grab on to something else that’s out there, and try to find my inspiration that way. And oddly, it never works.

I’ve had some great subject matter with which to work over the last several weeks.

I had an anniversary celebration that was straight out of the dream. It is still a bit overwhelming to think about, to try to wrap my mind about how I am blessed so far beyond what I deserve. She knows that too. I am. That’s a good thing.

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See, the problem is, I have this long, long, long list of things I should do. I should eat better. I should exercise more. I should write more. I should focus on one task at a time at work, rather than let myself be distracted by all the stuff going on around me. I should do more stuff around the house. I should do a lot of things. I don’t do very many of them. I find this frustrating. Sometimes it’s just as hard to be me as it is to deal with me. I hate that.

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There are things, however, I really like. Randomly:

-- Single-malt Scotch. A group of like-minded co-workers holds a monthly Scotch-and-cigar fest. One of those guys, G, is way more into it than, well, most people. He’s been choosing the distilling region and doing hours of research on the best whiskies from that region. He provides a long list of recommendations, and he and the rest of us buy a different bottle from that list to sample. We’ve been through the Islay, Speyside and Highland malts. The favorite so far, to my palate: the Speysides, authoritative drinks which pack a gentle wallop.

-- My dry cleaner. They lost a shirt of mine a few weeks ago – a shirt I had never worn. I am probably the only person who has had that happen to him twice in his life. (Yes, 15 years ago, another dry cleaner did the very same thing – lost a shirt I had never worn.) This one had a happier ending, though; two days later, they found the shirt. But that’s not why I like these people. I like these people because Martina behind the counter calls me by my name, knows my starch preferences, and has my clothes hanging for me before I even come in the door because she knows my car. That, friends, is good customer service, and there are few things I like better.

-- My son’s swimming coach. She’s incredibly good with a bunch of hard-to-control 8-year-olds. She’s in her early 20s, and is studying to be an elementary school teacher. She’s going to be a really good one.

-- New toys. One of the joys of my job is getting fresh technology and not having to pay for it. My latest new toy: a T-Mobile Dash. Nice to have a QWERTY keyboard again. I’d much rather use Windows Mobile than a Blackberry or Treo, and this device adds the bonus of being a really nice, clear phone. The great thing: About the time I get bored with it, some new device will show up on my desk. That rocks.

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Today’s main event: The Young Daughter turns 7 on Tuesday. Her party is today. The Wife found a local firm that is putting together a princess party from start to finish. All we have to bring is the juice boxes. This should be fun.

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If the Young Daughter is turning 7, that means this forum is turning 6. The only other thing that I’ve stuck with for six years or more is my marriage. In my adult life, I’ve never driven a car, lived in one place or held a job title for six years. Like so many other things in my life, I don’t treat this forum as well as I should. But I’m glad it has stuck with me for all this time; and I’m glad you have stuck with me. I’ll put this on the list of things that I should do better, and I’ll start attacking that list.

Buying their memories

As a frequent air traveler, I have a lot of time to read. And, of course, I buy most of my books at airport bookstores. Looking through the selections wadded up in my backpack, it appears my taste has gone toward contemporary memoir.

I just finished "Bright Lights, Big Ass," by Jen Lancaster. Over the last year, I've also read all of the offerings from Laurie Notaro, Augusten Burroughs and David Sedaris, who apparently doesn't have a web site.

Quick reviews:

Lancaster is mostly very funny, but the footnote thing got old after a while.

Notaro is constantly flat-out hilarious. Her life would be a good stand-up act.

Augusten Burroughs: David Sedaris for the rest of us.

Sedaris needs to stop whining, and we need to stop enabling him.

What do these four essayists have in common? They all write about their basically mundane, everyday lives, and a large audience seems to enjoy reading about them. Also: None of them are heterosexual men.

Which leads me to believe: There must be no way to make the life of a heterosexual man interesting to a mass audience. (I suppose, if there was, I'd be writing more about it.)

I'm not sure why I enjoy reading other people's navel-gazing. I know I'm partial to funny women, which explains Lancaster and Notaro. Sedaris is wildly popular among people who are much smarter than me, and I picked up "Me Talk Pretty One Day" and "Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim" based on the recommendations of said smart people. I guess my disdain for him must indicate that I'm not all that smart. Burroughs? Meh. He's a slightly less insufferable version of Sedaris.

That said, I keep buying the books. I'm headed out now to get Lancaster's first book, "Bitter is the New Black," and the new Notaro tome (which is actually a memoir disguised as a novel), "There's a (Slight)Chance I Might Be Going to Hell." There's a (slight) chance I might be a sucker.

Stop

And read this. Now. Seriously. It's worth your time; just like so many other things that you think you don't have time for.

Just sit down and write

My life doesn't really allow much time for calm reflection. As I write this, I'm in an almost-empty house. It's basically pretty quiet, except for the two 5-year-old girls screaming at each other at the top of their lungs. Well, actually, it's just the Young Daughter who's screaming. She does that a lot. That's how she earned the nickname Diva of Decibels. The other little girl, YD's best friend, generally gets her points across more quietly.

The rest of the group is out at a local water park. YD and I aren't much into water parks, so we stayed home.

I'm on "vacation" this week. It's my first extended time off since last year's family trip to Washington, D.C. It comes at the end of a(nother) marathon travel stretch, the kind of travel I thought I was going to be able to avoid after having been promoted. The deal was that, rather than project trips lasting 5-8 days, I'd be doing support-type stuff and management schmoozes lasting a day or two each. That's basically true. However, I just did five of them in the last three weeks.

My 20-year high school reunion will be held this weekend in Anytown. I won't be there. A small part of me wishes I was going; I'd love to renew some of those connections and hear what these people are up to. But that small part has been drowned out by the larger part, the part that doesn't want to see the interior of another aircraft for a good long time. I'm tired of talking to my wife and kids on the phone.

I'm still taking the week off. There's a garage to clean, walls to paint, kids to watch. It's nice to prioritize those sorts of things above work, for a little while.

I've been thinking a lot about writing. I've been thinking I just need to sit down and tap keys for a while, just to see what comes out. I've certainly had some interesting experiences the last few weeks, the kind that in years recently past I would have chronicled almost immediately.

In fact, I just spent the last 20 minutes chronicling one of them before giving it the Click-Drag-Delete treatment. After writing it all down, I decided it just wasn't that interesting.

Not all that long ago, I had a voice in this forum. I can go through the archives and see that time was when I could sit down and construct a series of coherent sentences. I've learned many things in the last two years: How to install and manipulate a database, how to manage an enterprise-wide software installation project, how to get a flight on another airline when my originally scheduled flight is hopelessly delayed, how to read and speak rudimentary Danish and French.

Somewhere along the way, however, I seem to have forgotten how to appreciate the things going on around me. That's a skill I need to regain.