The Soapbox

"So many people are famous for just doing nothing"

- Sharon Osbournce, on the Today show discussing the finalists on America's Got Talent

Um, excuse me.   And what has Mrs. Osbourne besides ride the coattails of her husband?  Would we really know who she is without the reality show?  Is she really one to be juding "talent?"

It happened again. 

It's 7:45 last night and I am desperately trying to finish cleaning out emails so I can go home, when my phone rings.

"Steven.  It's V.  What are you still doing at work?"  (side note:  Why do people ask that when they call? If you don't think I'll be here, don't call until you think I will be at my desk)

It was a former consultant of mine who, after he left about a year ago, I had recommended for a position at another company.  They eventually hired him full time.  And now he's been recognized for his efforts and promoted.  He was calling to thank me for helping him get the opportunity and for all he learned from me.  He also wanted to be sure that we continued to keep in touch.  Of course, I was flattered and very happy for him.  It's wonderful to see the success of others.  As we hung up though, I had another thought.

I can now count on two hands the number of people who I have helped get other positions who have advanced further and faster than I have.  If all these people learned so  much from, then what is it that others in my career path aren't seeing?  I know I am a little different in how I manage consultants.  I try to treat them as colleagues, as that is how I want them to work.  I empower them when needed and ensure they are educated in the business processes which they are supporting so they better understand the implications of the technologies they are implementing.  For most of my career, I've thought I would never want to manage people but recently I realized that perhaps I could.  With the right coaching I could definitely learn to do so. 

And maybe that's the problem.  I've never seen myself advancing in the personnel side of the corporate world and it was reflected in my overall work.  As dedicated as I am and as much as I (think I) am respected, if I present myself in a certain way, that's how I'll be seen.  The bitterness I originally felt is the wrong attitude.  I need to turn it around and learn to work to elevate myself instead of others.  Being the "nice guy" at work is fine; no one likes working with the bastard down the hall.  However there has to be a line between helping others and helping yourself.  It's time to focus on the latter.

Hopefully, then, everything will come full circle.

One of the hardest things about using Generic Ethnicaly Centered Dating Site is the first phone call.  Granted, writing the profile can be difficult as you want to present yourself well without sounding conceited; pithy without being arrogant; modest without sounding overly self-depricating.  However when it is just you and the keyboard, you can edit all you want.  You can always choose the best looking photo as well.  Even the initial emails and messages are not exchanged in real time, so you have time to think and reflect before responding.  But the first phone call....different story.  Last night, I had two.

The first, we'll call her N, seemed...how do I put this..like the stereotypical Internet dater you see on TV and in movies. Don't get me wrong.  She seemed very nice.  I just got the impression that she's become a little jaded from the whole dating scene.  I know there a lot of jerks out there who are totally inappropriate on first dates and who probably use the site as their own personal singles bar.  But that's not me.  And I don't need to hear about it before our first date (she didn't relate any stories, but she left enough of a hint that one could infer).  I also thought it was a little too personal to ask why I've only been back on the site for a few months.  There were a few other things too that I can't completely put my finger on, but I am learning to not spend so much time worrying about.  We're meeting for....something (drinks/dinner).....next Wednesday night after she returns from seeing grandmother in Florida.

The second call, with she who shall be known as A, was great.  Our banter just clicked on so many levels.  As I am starting to let me guard down and just be me (instead of trying to be someone who I think others would want me to be), I'm learning it's a lot easier to have a conversation.  I'm not struggling to change or make excuses for my past or who I am.  I just am.  And she seemed the same.  Our sense of humor melded (which is really scary for those who know my sense of humor) to the point where at times we weren't sure who was joking. The covnersation was not the typical pre-first date chit-chat.   We spoke for close to 45 minutes, meaning I didn't have dinner until after 10, but that's fine.  So, it's brunch with A on Saturday at 11.

To be continued....

"Some girls are bigger than others"

- The Smiths

I will occasionally get caught up in bad TV shows, especially some of these "reality" shows on the basic cable channels.  My latest waste of time is Confessions Of A Matchmaker, a complete train wreck on the A&E network.  Somehow, seeing these people makes me feel less badly about what I may be going through.  Silly, I know.  But as John Lennon sang, "Whatever gets you though the night/Is all right"

One of the recent episodes dealt with a 41-year old virgin who had a very difficult time meeting women or maintaining relationships.  I was in such a funk when I watched this episode that I started to relate to this guy.  I should know better.  Yes, it did take me a long time to get into the whole dating thing, and I did "lose it" and much later age than I would like to admit. However, I am now much more confident and working through many of the issues I had.  But still, I let my mind wander where it shouldn't go.

So as the show progresses, the matchmaker has the realization that this client may be gay and sets him up with another man.  And he starts to realize and accept that maybe she is right.  Absolutely nothing wrong with that.  Except...my mind starts to put thoughts in my head.   "What if I'm gay?  Do you think it could be?"  It didn't help that R would sometimes question my sexuality due to our issues with sex.  (You know, I really do not understand why I stayed with her as long as I did). 

As I let these thoughts pervade my mind, I started to emerge from my fog.  As my therapist later said, I started to become more embodied; more in control and aware of myself.  And, more importantly, of women.  I started to become a little more noticing of women I would find attractive.  My crush on a coworker (who will go unnamed and on which I will not act since she is married) reemerged.  And the Smiths song above permeated my thoughts (many thanks to my college roommate, J, who introduced me to that band and a whole host of others which opened my ears to a whole new set of bands).

Time to grab my water wings and contine my plunge back into the dating world. 

I was in the bathroom at the time (I know it sounds like TMI, but it is relevant) so I didn't quite hear the announcement coming over the PA system at work.  I knew something was going on; the PA system is rarely used at 6 pm.  When I walked back to my desk, I noticed......silence.  No one was around.  Not a soul.  Granted, most people are not as insane as I am about work hours, but there are always a few coworkers and consultants around.  But now.....no one.

I get back to my desk and there is an IM from friend A in Colorado.  "Have you heard anything about an explosion at Grand Central?"  Uh oh.  That would explain things.  I go to the CNN website.  Nothing.   The NY1 site (local news station for those not in the city).  Nada.  A writes again - "My brother said he saw a lot of smoke and people running from the Grand Central area."  I grab my cell phone and Blackberry and head downstairs.

There were people all over the sidewalk.  Fire engines were everywhere.  Smoke was pouring out of what looked like 150 E 42nd St, which is one of the buildings my company uses.  Only the smoke was....white.  I knew it wasn't a new pope being announced.  It couldn't be a fire - the smoke would be darker.  A rumor starts to spread about a steam pipe explosion.  I call my dad and get him to change the channel from Jim Kramer to the news.  It was a steam pipe.  Not much else I can do.  All is safe.  So i head back upstairs.  I had 106 emails to go through.

A couple hours later, the walk home was strange.  Those who were stranded due to Grand Central being closed were hanging out on the sidewalks, outside the restaurants and bars.  Helicopters hovered overhead.  Police cars screamed down 2nd Ave.  But there was not feeling of fear; more of a feeling of comradere.  It reminded me of the blackout from a few years ago.  Everyone's first thought had to have been terrorism.  But the feeling passed quickly and people just went about their business (granted, with a detour around 42nd St).   Have we become that jaded? Or have we become just more accepting?

Thank G-d it wasn't more serious.  My thoughts and prayers go out to the family of the person who was killed.  And I wish a speedy recovery to those who were injured.  I just wish we didn't have to always be in fear that these horrible events may be worse.

Let me just start by saying that I do enjoy my job, even with the very long hours as of late.  Besides, there are some of personal tendencies on which I am working which have been a factor in that.  Most people don't find managing systems support all that exciting. I find it a great opportunity to continually learn about technology and different areas of the business.  Besides, it helps me keep my "geekiness" without actually having to learn coding or technologies on a very low level. 

However, there is one part which is not enjoyable - the fact that depending on what is happening, I may need to make myself available at any time.  Last night was an example.  We were deploying some significant enhancements to the applications of one of my more important clients.   Work was scheduled from 7 pm until 7 am today in order to provide plenty of buffer.  And we needed the buffer.  We ended up finishing at 6:30 and needed to have conference calls every two hours or so. I had planned for the majority of the efforts to go smoothly, allowing for some extended period of sleep.  Instead, I need to nap in small increments.  This, on top of my already being behind on sleep.  And I need to complete my mid-year review for tomorrow morning.  And work on the project for the charity group with which I am working.  And continue my Six Sigma on-line class (I'm behind there too). 

When's our next long weekend?

I'm way too exhausted to put together a coherent post - it's already been a 40+ hour week and it's only going to get worse thanks to an application deployment Saturday night.  But I couldn't let my birthday pass without saying something.  I'm just not sure what.  Maybe it's just, for the first time for as long as I can remember, I wasn't stressing about where I am or who I am.  Maybe my task (other than having to list all reasons I should be angry at R for my therapy session tomorrow) needs to be to stay the course.  There's a lot swirling in my head right now, but I really should sleep.  My insomnia has taken over again which is not helping my sanity.

More tomorrow or later in the week

I've never been one to totally join in whole debate as to whether the government has been hiding evidence of UFOs and aliens in Roswell.  As much as I enjoy all these conspiracy theories, a lot of what passes as "evidence" seems a bit, well, far-fetched.  Of course, I also wouldn't put it past our miltary to hide such secrets.  I found this story quite interesting.  It doesn't really do much to push me to one side of the debate or the other, but it does raise some questions.

Dear R

    Thank you for returning my stuff.  I have to admit, I was a little surprised to have received the packages.  I'm also equally surprised that I have not reached out to you yet, whether by letter, email or phone.  I've almost done so a few times and I've had this discussion with everyone:  friends, family, therapists, myself.  I always come to the conclusion that not contacting you is the best thing.

    I still have this Hollywood fantasy that you and I will meet for drinks somewhere.  After some awkwardness and some difficult words, we reach a stage where we can (in the worse case scenario) friendly and (in the best) friends.  But as the fantasy subsides, I realize it would never happen.  We are past the point of conversation.  We are past the point of understanding.

    To be honest, we had the opportunity for such a meeting.  October 12, 2006.  At the restaurant in your neighborhood.  You know the one.  We chose that date as it was after the High Holy Days and gave us sufficient time to think.  The day before you had an “event,” so we chose Thursday at 8 pm.

    At 8:35, I decided to leave.  It was obvious you weren't going to show.  I gave more than enough time to account for your usual tardiness.  I checked my messages on my cell phone as well as at home and at work. No messages. I took out my Blackberry to see if you sent an email.  Nothing.  Deflated, shaken and confused, I hopped the bus across town and headed home. 

    For the next couple of days, I waited for communication; something explaining your not showing.  Anything would have helped.  Family issues.  Personal emergency.  Even just “I couldn't” would have been sufficient.  Instead, I was left wondering.  Wondering if you were OK.  Wondering if you had moved on during our “break” and decided meeting me wasn't worthwhile.  Wondering if you were not OK and had a difficult time with your thoughts, as I had.  But most of all, I was wondering “Why?”

    Why, after two-and-a-half years, could you not bring yourself to close the relationship?  Did “we” mean that little?  I completely understand that it was going be a difficult conversation.  But I was willing to face it.  I needed to face it.  I needed closure.  We needed closure.  But we didn't have it.  At least I didn't have it.

    It took me a while and required quite bit of work, but I am in much better place and I am much stronger.  I realize now just how the relationship affected us both.  Our codependency did neither of us any good.  It only magnified the areas we wanted to change.  Neither of us was going to grow. 

    I'm not going to pretend I was the victim or that I was never at fault.  No one is perfect.  But I gave a lot.  And gave up a lot.  That is not something you were willing to do.  Nor were you able to accept me as me.  I accepted the fact that you were never  going to finish your book, despite that being what you said you were spending your days doing.  I accepted that you blamed your stomach ailments on food even though you had (and I hope it is “had” and not “still have”) a serious alcohol dependency.  And I accepted the fact that you were, to be blunt, mean to me.  You played on my insecurities and confidence issues and pulled all the right strings.

    I should have been stronger. I should have stood up for myself earlier instead of letting things happen as they did, setting precendant.  I should have insisted that my friends and family be as important in out lives, despite your not wanting their involvement.  I should have made you understand that the lifestyle you want takes a lot of money,and while I do fairly well it was no match for your desires.  Comparing what you have/want to your friends, who had the money for those lifestyles was not fair.  And expecting me to support them, when you provided no assistance since you had no resources, was not fair.  Your impatience with my sexual issues only made things worse.  Worst of all, and it is evident from the other points in this paragraph, was your selfishness.  Everything was about you and what you wanted.  And I capitulated, along with your friends and your parents.  Until you accept that you can not continue to blame others for what has happened in your life, you are never going to move forward.  You will never be able to sing your songs, finish your book or play music again.  I am not the reason you were held back for those 30 months, as much as you wanted me and yourself to believe it.

    I loved you.  I still do.  I probably always will.  You were a special part of my life and taught me a great deal.  There are many good things I remember and will treasure.  The way you smiled when you were truly happy is something that still brings joy to me.  The dedication you showed to friends when they needed you was admirable.  Your sitting with F for weeks on end while cancer slowly took her was devastating.  Watching you deliver your comments at her funeral was humbling.  But you did both with grace and humor.  I loved that we had our pet names and our secret jokes and our endless string of cards for every special event.  As much as you said you didn't like kids, you were very good with my niece; she only recently stopped asking about you.  I learned a lot from you too:  classical music, the arts and the industry behind both; a greater appreciation for wine; a deeper belief in spirituality through your study of Buddhism.  There's probably so much more. 

    But, in the end, we just were not right for each other.  At least not at that time.  We both needed some growth.  Unfortunately, our codependency just proved too strong.  We dove into the relationship so quickly that we never really had time to assess what was happening.  As much as we wanted it to work, and as much as we were told that we looked like a great couple, it just wasn't meant to be.

    I truly hope that you are able to find someone who will make you happy.  But first I hope that you will find a “you” that make you happy.  I wish only the best for you.  I will always be one of your biggest fans and I'll be one of the first to buy your book should you complete it.  I hope that you are able to find your internal happiness and peace.  Most of all, I wish you love.

Namaste

H

Yeah, you've seen this a million times already.  But it's one of the funniest 5 second clips I've seen in a while.

Dramatic Chipmunk

And, yes, I know he's a dramatic prairie dog but dramatic chipmunk sounds so much better.