So, work has been going VERY well. I've been addressed as a field agent, leader of engineers, good at my job, you name it. My Jennifer and I joined forces a month ago and we are loving the place we have together. Expect a wedding by June, or so. My commute has shrunk to 30 miles, albeit the hardest 30 miles of the old commute, and my nights are longer.
And hey, Obama was re-elected! That's pretty nice.
This year, I will be spending Thanksgiving in town with friends, so we'll see how well that goes!
It's hard to write long when you're happy. So, bye!

Who remembers Psychonauts? It was a brilliant little game from DoubleFine games, whose lead, Tim Schafer, is famous for writing great games. The comedy and drama balance well, and the game really needs more love. I put it up there with anything Three Rings, Valve, or People Can Fly can come up with. But I digress.
     The hero has many problems, but the most constant is an inability to swim. Every time the water gets too deep, a creepy hand (that only he can see) lunges out to grab him, and if he doesn't jump to safety in time, he's dragged under. This comes to a head in one nightmarish scenario where the hero is surrounded by water, and the hands appear in the wall around him, ready to drag him to his doom if he gets too close. There's a rising-floor-of-doom level later, but it doesn't have the same feel--I digress.
     I feel those hands closing in now. I may have shared some degree of elation when I got my current job, but my progress has been sidetracked in numerous ways. On the first of the month, I was taken for a sit-down and told in no uncertain terms what the bosses thought of my apparent lack of progress, and that I had better improve, and fast. I set on my current project with a will, and forced myself to stay and finish things long into the night, many times. Friday, in particular, was swallowed whole as the one person whose help I needed was diverted, again and again, so that my last efforts zipped up at 24:30 that night.
     I spent the weekend, and today, in a funk; I was worried that nothing would get done this November, and my terrible numbers would send me back to the job hunt. But it's been dormant for a months, and I don't really want to go back to it. Besides the obvious inconvenience, being unemployed is a huge damper on hiring manager enthusiasm. And to mention that I was dismissed? Forget it. I have to keep this job, or consign myself to months more work finding something new.
     John Locke positied, among other things, that a man's ability to earn his living is as essential to his life as a beating heart; to take a man's money without his consent is an injury, and to take his job, tantamount to murder.
     It weighs on me now. This fortnight, it's do--or die.
    

The grand themes of Rosh Hashanah--judgement, remembrance, awakening--have been heard already today. I'm too tired to capitalize them, even. Here is what I think:
"[you folks] spend about 50 weeks a year getting knots in your rope, and you figure two weeks up here'll untie 'em for you." --Curly, "City Slickers"
"I can't believe that my last words to her were 'no foot longs'!" --Ned Flanders, "The Simpsons", 2000 Season
The Internet is fond of telling hit-by-a-cement-truck stories of how someone goes to Heaven without ever hearing from this friend or that one. I've read enough of them to be completely numbed to their bathos. Besides that, I have a time of year that serves the same purpose. These are the Days of Awe, wherein we are required to step back and look at life this last year--sort out regrets, redress grievances, reconnect here and there. It's a chance to get done, what needs doing but doesn't get the effort all the time, and also a chance to re-set the moral compass you use in the process--which leads us to agency.
"In philosophy and sociology, Agency is the capacity of an agent (a person or other entity) to act in a world." --Wikipedia
All year long, the constant fight is for control of our bodies, our environments, our identities, our budgets, and ourselves. There isn't much time--unless you HAVE a cliff to sit on or a dam to walk over--to admit that either some things are BEYOND control or that the controller we're using may not be the best. The Days of Awe are meant to accomplish the latter--to take the agent out of the game, if only for a few hours or days, and examine both it and the agent closely. It's the former--admission, then submission--that hits harder, I think. That all our faculties may not affect very much--it's tough to admit. *ahem* although we do tend to blame concepts like "The Economy" and "The Japanese", or scramble for "The Secret" that makes this all Not True, it is.
And for that alone, these Days deserve some Awe.

n. "A person whose round trip to work exceeds a hundred miles each day." --Joel Garreau, "Edge City", page 458
     Sometimes fate throws you a loop. My new job has its own parking lot, a motivated, organized, polite staff, intelligent policies and by-laws, a well-maintained building, and a beautiful building in up-hill Lake Forest. I live in West Los Angeles, about 60.9 miles away (as the Google flies).
     I'll let that sink in.
     90 minutes, each way, I figure. Add in 7.5 hours' sleep and there's scarcely time to play.
     I will move--once the benefits kick in and I get a feel for my finances. As is, I figure the money I traded up to from my last job is just about burned away in my car's engine. I'm hanging in there. Any idea of a healthy breakfast that can be made at home and eaten in a car? I am a good cook, mostly.
edit: Cruise Control is impossible on the 405, in case the song gives you ideas.

"Could it be? / Yes it could. / Something's coming, something good. / If I can wait. / Something's coming. / I don't know what it is, / but it is / gonna be Great!" --"Something's Coming", West Side Story

Big news--the second-biggest--I have a new job! It's with a respectable world-class firm in Lake Forest with a whole pack of respectable people and a comprehensive benefits package and a lovely salary increase--far more than I ever made at the job that cut my salary in mid-September and my hours two weeks back. What most people couldn't tell you is that I have been on a scramble for new work since mid September, and on a balls-to-the-wall blitz since mid-April, to get it--or, more generally, anything that fits the description above. This included daily web searches and sends, answering every email that crossed my screen, bombarding the Big Three (and the Other Three) with searches and emails of their own, and taking every strange call as quickly as possible. On top of full-time work, it was a catharsis and a pressure relief valve. When my hours were cut, it was a lifeline to a better life.
"Come in something. / Come on in / Don't be shy. / Pull up a chair." --ibid
     The feedback ranged from the confusing to the chaotic to the sublimely tempting--the Big Three were coy, the recruiters eager, and I swear I only saw two in-person interviews among them all. No matter--I pressed on until I got an offer I could accept with honor and, yes, a touch of glee.
     Now? Relief. Satisfaction. My life continues with minimal trouble, and my cash flow can get my finances cleared. I can bid farewell to a whimsical, clueless man and his hard-working, narrow-view co-worker, and their despairing bookkeeper. I can leave their flailing enterprise to its destiny, and pursue my own. I will get my own cubicle. I will get my own parking space! Santa Monica's asinine parking plan, street sweepers and extortionate parking tickets will never be an inconvenience again.
     And I am just as happy as before--great girlfriend, friends in all boroughs, nice car, great computer, comfortable apartment--but the lows are less low, and the bills less weighty.
     I will move if the commute drives me nuts, but not before--I bet I can endure for this!

"The only time we get sick inside / is when some bum hitches a ride. / We wait for a sharp corner to come / and open the door--bye bye bum!"  --You KNOW where it's from**

Right now I wish I had a sharp corner to turn and a door *I* could open. It began with an absolutely wonderful lady in my life who owns a territorial, free-roaming, shed-beast of a cat, who thought nothing of climbing all over their shared apartment. When she was slated to clean it, I was roped in to help. The weekend before that, and that one, and the one after, ended with me in a wretched, allergic state, running my nose frantically showering and wiping and laundering and trying to get my sinuses and nasals clear. Twice I was sent home for being too dizzy and ill to work.
     Dammit. I thought that ten months of injections would at least have raised my tolerance for cats, but it has not.
     This weekend, my neck lymph nodes swelled, my Eustachian tubes swelled shut, and I was reduced to an achy, dizzy wreck, though the cat was miles away. Now I can't even eat, since a side effect of ear blockage is reduced jaw strength and ridiculous teething pain. My allergies had let in some nasty bum, who now needs professionals to extract. I now have to ride the allergy-medicine roller-coaster until some specialist tells me I'll be on it for life.
     If you get the runny nose, my friends, blow gently, so you don't get what I had, and seek allergy medication. I know you hate Benadryl, but there are others.
     Bonus points for said wonderful lady--my girlfriend, of course--for treating me well while I struggle with this.
     **If you get it, this makes the second skating reference in two web logs.

Pass this on!

Remember when teachers, public employees, Planned Parenthood, NPR and PBS crashed the stock market, wiped out half of our 401Ks, took trillions in TARP money, spilled oil in the Gulf of Mexico, gave themselves billions in bonuses, and paid no taxes?

Yeah, me neither.

Re-post from a friend. Pass it on if you're so inclined.

   
Silly Survey
I stole this from a pretty lady. Thanks, BoureeMusique!

I saw these questions being passed around and I couldn't resist!

A. Age: 29, nearly 30

B. Bed size: queen, depending on how you measure

C. Chore you hate: sweeping the walk.

D. Dogs: Allergies hate me. But yeah, I love 'em. Eat out of your hand and everything.

E. Essential start to your day: Music and a warm bed.

F. Favorite color: blue

G. Gold or silver: I love gooooold!

H. Height: 5'11"

I. Instruments: Viola, also Baritone / Basso

J. Job title: Project Engineer / Team Leader / Project Manager.

K. Kids: When my income, housing, and a lot else is stable. So, not right now.

L. Live: I am alive. I like live music. I live in Texas.

M. Mom’s name: Bobbi.

N. Nicknames: Doug or Dougie. The gaming community has other names for me--not for polite company.

O. Overnight hospital stays: Just for sleep studies, otherwise, bring me my CPAP.

P. Pet peeve: turn signals and incomprehensible accents. You KNOW I can't understand you, right?

Q. Quote from a movie: I'm a quote hound, but usually action films. Quoting comedy makes you look old...

R. Right or left handed: right, mostly, until it's asleep.

S. Siblings: a brother.

T. Time you wake up: 6, unless weekends, when anything goes. Have done 4 AM for plane flights, didn't like it.

U. Underwear: white, or black boxers.

V. Vegetables you dislike: Raw. Especially RAW ONIONS! Curse you lazy burger-cursing, lazy idiots for putting raw onions on my burger!

W. What makes you run late: too much fun stuff online.

X. X-rays you’ve had: dental, neck / shoulder / back for car wrecks, elbow for a skating spill, soft palate for snoring test.

Y. Yummy food you make: chili, arroz con pollo, waffles.

Z. Zoo- favorite animal: polar bear.

Bernstein performs Gershwin:
Part 1:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xxb7yNG0DGc&feature=related
Part 2:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BgPV0jLmdSM&feature=related

Today was the kind of day that has me scrambling for escape. Dr. deadline and the Sudden Sales-force decided that we needed to cannibalize perfectly good equipment I'd put together weeks ago--that took months to source, assemble, and test--to make a one-off project for speculative clients in a city I'll never see for a sale that may never happen. Those poor devices were drilled, filled, and ruined for normal use by his miserable whims, and I was dragged right along into it to help. He said he might "remember your dedication."** He even insisted I spray-paint perfectly good fixtures so he could take them along for this demo. When I pointed out it wouldn't fit in his suitcases, he insisted anyway. All this pissed me, him, and our associates off. I considered shouting and hitting things.
     Someone asked me point blank if--given the opportunity--I'd take a job I "appeared over-qualified" for; I honestly would--to escape this deadline-driven madness. But as I was leaving tonight, mentally composing this for all to see, and blanking the details, I remembered this song.
     United Airlines used to use George Gershwin's "Rhaposody in Blue" for their commercials. Most start with the somewhat regal, joyful sequence seen in part 2--for extra nostalgia, skip to about 3:40--and it always made me feel good. Today FELT more like the cold opening they gave to a commercial they showed a few times full of conflict; it was supposed to be a board meeting full of rain and wind, and sounded more like part 1, 4:01--conflicted and angry. The switch between the two scenes--businessman stuck in a stormy scene, then gets a nice chair and a towel--seemed to reflect my attitude as I strode out the door and to my car.
     The DVD pretty much sums it up in moving pictures, and I am going to watch it right now. I am calm, at peace.

P.S. Little something in my eye also.
P.P.S. **He can't even remember the payroll, so I doubt it. Zing!

There was a time I couldn't stand LCD monitors. The smug thinness, the not-quite-dark blacks, the unreliable starter circuits. And I loved CRTs for being all different. Now it's flipped. I will never know what possessed the monitor to give up its relays on Thursday morning, but by that night, I was an LCD believer. And they are so LIGHT! I may never like vacuum tubes again! Thank goodness, really.
My car had its last "woes" of 2010 when, with hours to go in the year, the starter (of ALL things) decided not to work anymore. After some hemming, hawing, and some last-minute plan jiggering, I put it to bed at Novak Automotive, where they found THREE things wrong, all of them long-term trouble-makers: the battery cable, the battery itself, and the oil-pressure switch. Turns out the inadequate power was no accident, but the real starter-wrecking culprit was the leaking switch--the starter was so fouled it could barely work. $325 later, I had a brand-new machine in my machine. Extra credit to my backup driver, with whom I shared cheese sandwiches afterward.
My last camera-phone was stolen a few months back, and I took it as punishment to use an older phone for a few months. Tonight, I was able to buy a new one--slick, camera-installed, and it uses these bitsy USB connectors instead of the proprietary Samsung garbage I've had to wrangle so long ago. I also got back all the contacts that were on that phone, and spent an hour tonight merging, deleting, and sorting people into work, friends, and family. Woohoo! New phone! Full keyboard! I can use headsets!
Also, this book is wonderful. If you care a whit about knowledge work, teamwork, software development, or management of all-of-the-above, please read it!

The on-screen keyboard represents many things to many people. To the crippled, it represents the last hope of typing things legibly. To the tablet user, it represents the frustration that a one-button mouse-finger is not enough to run a computer system. To the laptop user, it is a reminder that once those keys are broken, they stay broken, until you spend a fortune. To me, at least for now, it is a reminder not to keep my sugary liquids on my desk. Thus dies a keyboard that, for 11 years, has been my favorite, and was a faithful reminder that Gateway used to be somebodies. Until they made computers with defective parts, ugh (other story--moving on).
     Luckily, the computer guy at work was nice enough (and a bit of a packrat) to have spares, so my drivel will continue unabated (you lucky readers, you).
     The Montgomery Ward in Huntington Beach used to anchor a Mall called the Center Avenue Shopping Center. The mall died, but the Ward's stayed up for nearly 14 years. Just three months ago, it was intact. This Saturday, I saw it gutted, wounded, and about to collapse. The new mall, Bella Terra, is about to consume the space for new stores--I assume. Got about 110 pictures of it. Will be back in a month.
     Cons All-Star shoes look pretty cool (see I, Robot), but they are not padded to do anything else. In the time I wore them, I injured my feet badly enough to need three surgeries. The replacement shoes, in this case, were a brand called D.V.S.--a skate shoe that is not only roomy enough to hold wide feet but centered and padded to take all sorts of punishment. After two years, I wore holes in both soles, and I didn't even care until it started raining this week.
     So, new shoes. And since the brand and size are a big esoteric, I got them online.
     Not much else new, but I felt like sharing.