For lent this year...

...I'm giving up yelling. Seriously.

Today was a crazy day. I interviewed, like, 5 different tech guys for this open job we have. There's a particular kind of "I'm smarter than you, and will try to prove it, but not so much that you might actually learn something because sharing knowledge would be the death of me, and by the way my last boss was an idiot" kind of tech guy that makes me just want to scream. Fortunately, only of of the five qualified 100% in taht category.

For me, right now: Dead Sea Salts, a bath, and Wired Magazine.

Love to all. Even you, Mr. "I will not accept anything less than $120/hr."

WTF?

How I wake up at 4:54 am without an alarm clock is beyond me.

Love to all.

Found... and oops.

So, my missing friend didn't have his cell, and never got my message. I saw him at the morning meeting I attend. He was okay. Sad, introspective... but generally okay. Around 7:10, about five of us were doing the pre-meeting chit-chat thing,when this young, attractive woman comes in, looking all nervous. She stood there, looking at the room, trying to figure out what to do.

So I said, in my friendliest way: "Howdy! Come on in! We look busy, but trust me, we're not. Have a seat!" She kept staring, like she was scared out of her mind to be there. So I said: "No, really. We're totally harmless!" Then, my friend approachest the woman, and they walk outside together. It was his wife.

His much, much younger wife. Oops.

It's 9pm now. I just spoke at an evening AA meeting. I don't talk about AA too much on this blog, mostly because being in AA facilitates the rest of my life, and I don't want this blog to be a "recovery blog." There's enough of those out there. And I don't want people think that I don't approve of you drinking, smoking pot, etc. Because I'm good with whatever works for you.

But since this was a new meeting to me, with a bunch of people I haven't met before, I just want to say: AA is the coolest thing ever. That all these people who were completely unable to stop drinking on their own can stop drinking by sitting down with each other and following a few usually-simple instructions...

...man, that's just baffling. Almost as baffling as alcoholism itself.

Love to all. Even you, Mr. Glaring on the 7:52pm train out of Grand Central Station.

Call in, man.

So, a friend of mine (friend A) just called me from Atlantic City to say another friend of mine (friend B) apparently got in an argument with his wife, packed a bag, and walked out. He's been unreachable since. Since my Atlantic City friend is going into a business dinner, he called upon me to try an contact Mr. Missing. So far, his phone is going to voice mail.

Now, I just want to say that only in the world of New York City ex-problem drinkers would the three of us be friends. Friend A used to be, um "connected." I don't believe he is now, but I'm not entirely sure. Friend B runs a respected financial consulting firm. Friend B is 25 years older than me (15 years older than friend A).

I've been waiting to hit "publish," hoping he would check in. He hasn't.

Love to all.

Technology Depression and Blog Love.

I want a MacBook Pro, but it's not happening. The main programs that I use: FileMaker Pro, Photoshop, Dreamweaver, and Microsoft Office all have to run in emulation on the new Macs, which means "slow." And the Macromedia and Adobe products might not be updated to Universal Binary status for another year. Or more.

So, I can't justify a $2,500 MacBook purchase when, even though the new machines have 4-5X the raw processing power, my programs will crawl until native updates come out. Drag.

Switching topics: after being away for a week, it's so funny how happy I am to scroll through my little blogroll and see what people are up to. But hell, if I can't have the Zubes over for dinner, and if ITS from Digital Objective insists on staying in Montreal instead of getting his sorry ass back to NYC where he belongs, well, I'll just keep on reading.

Love to all. Even you, the folks I don't mention because it's maritally inappropriate.

1250%, baby.

Last night, we gave our attempt to go out to dinner 1250% of the effort it actually required. I used Google Maps to get directions from our little house to the restaurant, which kicked off a 50-minute, 25-mile odyssey through windy, snow-covered roads.

The directions said, effectively: Turn left, turn right, turn left, turn right, turn right.

The directions should have said: Turn right. Go 2 miles. Stop.

By the time we got there, my youngest was completely asleep. He slept through the whole meal in Maggie's arms. She said it reminded her of pregnancy... her arms, legs, and butt slowly went numb as dinner progressed. Happily, if you're ever in Warren, VT, make a beeline for Chez Henri. It's super good and fun.

(Side note. I just tried to wipe a stray period off my screen with my finger.)

We're heading home today. I'm looking forward to catching up on all my geek stuff, reading all the blogs I read, and chillin' in the homestead. My back is a little better. I was able to go from lying down to standing without that weird-ass twinging that makes me grab onto the nearest wall, spouse, or child.

When I start blogging from home, will my writing go back to normal? God, I hope so. Either way, I owe you all coffee.

Weren't we meeting at the diner? All of us?

Love to all. Even you, the plow guy who can hit 45mph in reverse.

Roe v. Wade or My Right Foot?

My stupid-ass back has me mixing bodily metaphors and stuck in my PJs.

And clearly bored.

My oldest is out with the ski patrol this morning. Maggie took him at 7am. Maggie was also up throughout the night with my daughter, who is running a fever. So, everyone say a collective "Go, Maggie!" She's being supermom.

I think she's a little pissed off at me for hurting my back. She said "This time, you are going for physical therapy." I'm not arguing with her. While it's not my fault that I hurt myself, I think if I had kept up the diet, yoga, etc., I probably wouldn't have done it. Bleah.

Plus, running season is starting. I have four races scheduled over the next two months. I've got to recuperate, baby!

Oh. Almost forgot: the South Dakota legislature just banned abortions, which might well lead to our Bush-enabled Supreme Court overturning Roe v. Wade. Just wanted to mention this, for those of you keeping score on Bush v the U.S. Constitution.

Love to all. Even you, whoever makes this useless drug.

I'm back, baby!

In this context, though, that totally sucks. My back, that is.

I realize that V and Kelly will be disappointed, but I didn't hurt myself during any sort of high-energy sex romp with Maggie. I survived that just fine, thank you very much. No, I hurt myself taking a half-fall on my first run of the day.

What sucked most was that this was right at the start of the run... two lift-rides up to the peak of Sugarbush. I took a half-spill, recovered, and crank. End of story. I was lying there on my side thinking: "Oh, shit. How the hell am I going to get down the mountain?"

It's frustrating, obvious, and utterly stupid: how direct my stress levels relate to my back injuries. On the way up the lifts, I was telling Maggie how I was having a great time in spite of the kids making me crazy... and now that we were on the lift for a day of skiing, I was starting to get righteously psyched. Sadly, whatever stress-cables had knotted themselves together in my lower back unwind more slowly than I would have hoped.

Am I whining? I so, I apologize. A little.

The upside? Throwing out your back requires that you maintain perfect posture if you want to make it down the mountain without the assistance of the ski patrol.

So now, I'm walking around all stooped over. My daughter does a perfect imitation of my feeble little walking motion. Ha-fucking-ha.

Anyway: I'm going to publish this sucker and lie down now. I promise to be significantly more interesting sometime before spring. Seriously.

Love to all. Even you, the speedy kid who made me turn.

Injury report.

Threw out my back on the first run. Not pretty.

Love to all. Even you, spine.

These kids need playdates.

On the one hand, it's really nice here. On the other, my kids are driving me up a freaking wall.

• My oldest: contradicting EVERYTHING everyone says.
• My daughter: picking on my oldest, deciding she hates everything.
• My youngest: refusing to go anywhere. Constantly running away.

I love my kids tons. But if I had to do it over again, yesterday would have been the last day of our trip. They're going nuts. Still, we're trucking them off to ski school now, so hopefully we'll get 3 hours of pleasantness... and maybe their collective mood will swing to the better.

Love to all.

Things I don't say.

Sometimes, as the concerned, caring, parent that I am, I want to say to my kids:

"WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR JUST THREE FUCKING SECONDS?!?!?!? WILL YOU STOP ASKING FOR YOUR FUCKING MOTHER EVERYTIME I TRY TO TAKE YOU SOMEWHERE, GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO EAT, OR BRING YOU TO THE BATHROOM?!?"

But I don't say those things.

Today was one of those days where all the kids were overtired and, by the end of the day, intensely cranky. Collectively, they had an excellent morning... and even had a half-decent rest-of-the-day, but in turn, each had a serious backtalking breakdown session that almost had me hiking back to Westchester. Especially my youngest.

On the upside, I definitely challenged myself today. I skied with Maggie on a bunch of intermediate (and one black diamond) trails, and tried to keep up with her. I failed, but I did put in the effort. At one point, it was snowing so hard visibility was practically zero. That made it intense and fun.

I found out that I'm pretty much only used to skiing in crappy conditions. There were spots today when I was actually in fresh powder, and I had no idea what to do. Ice doesn't bother me, but good conditions throw me off.

I'm rambling.

Oh, I should mention that we had an hour and a half to kill without the kids, and Maggie was like... let's go back to the house. If you know what I mean. I love it when she's like that.

Love to all. Even you, the guy in the SUV who tried (and failed) to drive around the line of cars waiting to drop off their children at ski school.

Phobic Incompatibilty.

I'm totally afraid of heights.

When I was younger, I tried to conquer this fear by climbing various buildings near where I lived. Drunk, I once scaled one of those huge water towers (the kind with the tube ladder on the side and the flashing light on top). Sitting the top, holding on to a little cable (that led to the light), I slammed a few more beers and found myself unable to climb down... and terrified to be up there. That kind of sucked.

Fast forward about twenty years.

Here at Sugarbush in Warren, VT., I keep getting freaked out by the both height of the chairlifts and the views of the mountains: the one I’m ascending and the ones in the distance. It feels really weird, because I’m simultaneously appreciative of the vista and on the verge of falling off the lift due to vertigo.

For a sober dude like me, It’s the closest I’ve come to feeling drugged up… with the exception of my bouts with pneumonia. I kind of like it... which says something about me.

I did my first black diamond trail today. Very… slowly…

Love to all. Even you, the lady who made us go back downstairs in the restaurant.

Bush vs. Americans, #38

If you need a pure example of how our President justifies obviating the law, brands people who disagree with him as traitors, and, in general, is trying to shovel more totalitarian authority into the Executive Branch of government, read this quote from the New York Times:

"Unfortunately, we're having this discussion," he said of the debate over wiretapping. "It's too bad, because guess who listens to the discussion: the enemy."

First of all, the man is a hypocrite. This comment was made well after his administration started to retroactively attempt to get authorization for the secret wiretap program. (Not the retroactive authorization for the individual taps themselves, which is different).

But the worst thing is the real message: don't disagree with Bush, because that's aiding and abetting the Enemy! And you know what that is, don't you? Treason. Prosecutable or not, our President is implying that if you question his progam of secretly recording the private conversations of American citizens, then you are helping the Enemy.

I believe that Al Qaeda is an enemy of ours. But I also believe that by sacrificing core American principles of freedom... or more clearly, by crapping on the Bill of Rights, President Bush is doing more to help the cause of the Enemy he can possibly imagine.

Love to all. Even you, the folks who would shut down this blog.

Kaboom!

After an 8-year hiatus, I hit the slopes today. The last time I did this, I felt timid and out of control. Today, weirdly, I felt perfectly fine. I took a group lesson, and the instructor actually called me “aggressive.” In a good way. I told Maggie this and she was like: “What? You?”

I don’t get it either. Something’s changed in my internal skiing program.

The kids have been, in turn: cranky, hyper,, gleeful, angry, mopey, and deliciously fun to be with. Each child has had a crying jag, complained mightily, and had a total blast at Sugarbush. It’s been totally up and down. Such is life.

We just got back from a really neat fireworks display. Now, ice cream. Then, bed.

Love to all. Even you, the snowboarder who ran over my friend’s kid.

"Ultimately..."

Did anyone here Dick Cheney's comment to the press about shooting his friend? I was blown away. He actually said: "Ultimately, I'm the one who pulled the trigger."

What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I'll tell you. It means: "In spite of all the mitigating circumstances, I guess I'll accept responsibility because I have to." Guess what, angry jellybean, there were no mitigating circumstances.

Why can't these people just say "Damn, I really made a mistake?"

Love to all. Even you, Dick.

View, and lack of dickishness.

It's 2 degrees Farenheit here in Warren, Vt. That's pretty cold (to this New Yorker), but we're going to wait a couple of hours, bundle up, and head out to the mountain. The two younger kids have ski camp, I have a group lesson, and Maggie is going to hook up with some friends of ours to hit the slopes with my oldest.

I'm going to try not to be a complete dickhead.

If I had to name my personal Behavioral Achilles Heel, it would be that when I'm nervous, scared, or uncertain, I lash out at the folks who are closest to me... in the form of quick-temperedness or general irritability. So join me in a little prayer, will you?

God, please help me not to be a dick to my family. And thanks for the vacation. Also, if you would, please help me be the kind of dude you want me to be. Thy will, not my will, be done. Amen, and rock on.

I don't know if I've ever mentioned that, growning up, my family didn't ski (too dangerous), never went camping (too uncertain), etc., etc. I'm a complete aberration in this regard... largely because I married Maggie, who, prior to meeting me, shacked up in a log cabin with some dude in Aspen. She's a real outdoorswoman.

50% lumberjane, 50% Saks 5th Avenue. That's my lady.

Time to get ready for the day.

Love to all. Even you, real estate guy.

Retraction!

I’ve got dial-up! I’ve got dial-up! I’m writing this from our cool-as-hell place in Vermont, which has a really sweet view… I’ll post a picture of it later tonight. It’ll only take me 75 hours to upload at 56k.

But thank God I’ve got something. I couldn't stand being away from you people for a whole week. God, I’m a junkie.

Love to all.

Good night and good luck: see you in 8 days.

I'm taking the family and heading to Vermont for a week of skiing. When I get back a week from Saturday, I think we should all get together for coffee at the diner on University and 12th in downtown Manhattan.

Who's gonna join me?

Love to all. Even you, the lady who paused to examine... something... in the subway turnstile at Grand Central Station.

The job, part II: fear of failure.

Such a weird conversation.

The folks who want to hire me asked me to fly to Boston to meet with senior management. I said that it didn't make sense for me to meet with those people until we agreed on some baseline items like salary, employment contracts, bonuses, non-solicits, etc.

So we went over those today. He didn't seem too pleased with my salary. He said "that's high, but considering the size of the office, it's not unreasonable." I said, "I understand, but this truly isn't negotiable. I understand if it's a dealbreaker, but I'm not trying to start high so we can haggle."

After we talked a while longer, my old boss suddenly says: "Well, a few internal candidates have crawled out of the woodwork. And our recruiters are trying to source some people, so we'll see."

And then, holy shit, I said: "Boss, if you have people who are competing with me for the job, hire one of them. I have no interest in working for you unless you think, hands down, that I'm the best possible person for the job. If you consider it a choice, go with the other candidate. Just as much as you want me to buy into your corporate culture, you have to buy into me. Great speaking with you, amigo."

Then I got off the phone.

I felt SO relieved after that conversation. And I realized why: I DON'T WANT THE JOB.

I think I'm so afraid of failure, of screwing up my own business, that I MUST consider any opportunity to bail, and that any opportunity will be my last opportunity. It's sad, in a way. In some ways, I'm the most confident dude on the planet. But my fear of failure can be so strong that I'm ready to bail on my own shop, simply because of chinks in my self esteem.

But you know what? My company is tracking at 50% over last year, which was 60% over the year before, which was 100% of the year before. Even if it DOES close, I've done a solid job so far. (Even writing THAT makes me cringe.)

So onward and upward, baby.

Love to all. Even you, the Earth Mother lady with the crazy hair.

"Roses of the Prophet Muhammed"

Oh, man.

So, when we were all pissed off at France when they didn't support us in Iraq, two Republican members of Congress spearheaded a movement to rename French Fries "Freedom Fries" and French Toast "Freedom Toast."

This was a stupid thing to do. For two reasons:

1. It was just childish. First-grade level at best.
   
2. It was done badly. If you had to rename French Fries and French Toast, they should have been renamed to it to something like "We give up rather quickly in major land wars Fries" and "How did we know they'd go around the Maginot Line Toast." Something like that.

Of course Iran, which is my hands-down winner of Most Insane and Dangerous Country on the Planet, decided to make sure we didn't outdumb them: today, they renamed Danish Patries to "Roses of the Phrophet Muhammed."

Oh. My. God.

First of all, that doesn't sound tasty at all. Second of all, it does sound blasphemous. I mean, you eat them, for pete's sake. I can't imagine buying a candy called "Tribute to Jesus" or "Moses and Chips." Although I guess Christmas cookies and Hamantashen are kind of along those lines. I guess.

But if you're so incensed over a cartoon about your holiest of phrophets, why would you then turn the dude with a dessert pastry? I dunno. It just seems crazy.

Love to all. Even you, the Danish, the Iranians, and the Republicans.

Your internal (sexual) dialog.

How much time do you spend thinking about things that you wind up not doing? This morning (it's been a busy day already!) I had a really interesting conversation about men's internal dialog... all the stuff they fantasize about, worry about, plan on...

...but never do.

For dudes, a lot of it is sexual. For women? I don't know.

Was I talking to a group of people with unusually active imaginations? Or do you do it too? How much time do YOU spend thinking about stuff you'll never act on. How much of it involves sex?

Love to all. But not, not that way.

Another form of Pride.

I'm sitting in a Starbucks in New York City. On 36th street and Madison Avenue. It's 6:39am.

Today I'm having my second meeting with the person who my old company wants me to replace. On Friday I'm having a conversation with my would-be boss to discuss what my bottom-line requirements are for being hired.

My self-esteem is being called into play. I feel like I have to take this job if they meet my requirements. I feel like I have to have requirements. That somehow, I must be hireable. That if I don't, I'm somehow missing out on the last good work opportunity of my life.

This is, of course, complete bullshit. My company is doing (knock on wood) fine, and it's growing. And there's a reason that, after a decade, I'm the person they are pursuing.

It's just amazing to me how little creedence I give my own success. I swear, I don't mean this is an arrogant way, but I'm starting to think that refusing to acknowledge my own success is pride in reverse. But it's still the sin of pride.

Does that sound arrogant? Am I using too many italics?

Love to all. Even you, the hesistant jaywalker in the track shorts.

Things not to say to your wife.

Maggie and I were discussing my oldest son. He's a cellist, a high-level skateboarder, and digs soccer. I mentioned that he's got both the artsy-thing and the athletic thing going and said "Man, this kid is going to get laid so much."

Note to self: don't say that again. Ever.

Love to all.

My first mutual interview.

So, my old job wants be back.

By "old," I mean a decade ago. I've been running my own companies since the mid-90's. But now, the last job I had where I worked for someone else wants me to take over their New York operations. In some ways, I'm totally honored. I mean, it's the second largest office of the single largest company of it's type. In other ways, I'm a little suspicious: I've left this company once before.

I met with the guy they want me to replace for one-and-a-half hours. At the end, I said to him: "We've been talking for an hour... tell me what makes me wrong for the job." He said: "I can't see a single thing." I said: "That's impossible." He said, "No, it's not. You're what we need here."

Happily, it's not a decision, yet. The next step will be to discuss the numbers, metrics, goals, etc. One thing at a time.

Love to all. Even you, the strange, throwback sales guy.

Insomnia Haiku

Up since 2:30
Nervous, mind races quickly
And now, I will crash.



Love to all. Zzzzzzzzzzzz.

Where the hell is my CAR?

This is my car. I think. It's a Mazda Miata, which means it weighs 8 pounds, has rear wheel drive, and is the exact opposite of a "Snow Car."

However, I have the most KICK ASS snow tires, and I was able to dig it out from two feet of snow, and go cruising up and down my street. Just me and the snow plows, baby.

Rock on.

Love to all. Even you, the fearless SUV driver who forgot that ice is totally resistant to 4-wheel drive.

Um... after?

Okay... maybe I didn't clean my desk... but I did make oatmeal!

There's two feet of snow outside... I've got to go take some pictures and dig out my car. I'll post those when I come back in.

Love to all. Even you, the unstable dude with the Thesaurus.

Prior to cleaning, a bit o' semi-politics.

There's this dude. James. His blog is Right Face. We do not see eye to eye on things. But the guy clearly thinks about what he's saying. This kind of disagreement, I can handle. If I was a drinking man, I could probably sit down with James and have a beer, and shoot the shit. He might wind up taking a swing at me, but I think we'd be friends the next day. I'm going to start reading it regularly, and if my opinion holds, I'm going to blogroll it. For me, blogrolls are the only way for me to remember which blogs I want to check in and read... to see either how those folks are personally, or what they saying politically... depending on the type of blog.

There's this other dude, Clay. His blog is In My Right Mind. While Clay left me a super-nice comment the other day, his blog writing typifies the whole problem with the whole Left vs. Right thing. By classifying those who disagree with him as un-American, by accusing United States Senators of being un-American... well, there's really nowhere to go with that.

The spectrum of Liberalism is as diverse as the spectrum of Conservatism. I think we'd all be better served if we went issue by issue, instead of resorting to the easier-yet-useless option of categorization.

NOW I'm going to clean my office.

Love to all. Even you, the quiet thinker with the grocery bags.

Before.

I have GOT to clean my desk. Like right now.

Love to all. Even you, dust bunnies.

NYC Marathon 2006, baby!

Congratulations Rich | Championable! You are eligible for guaranteed entry to the ING New York City Marathon 2006, which takes place on Sunday, November 5.

(Name edited for pseudoanonymity.)

Love to all.

It just keeps getting weirder, part I.

Okay.

13 years ago, I quit the family business (actually, I got fired, but only because I wouldn't promise to leave my hair up for religious services), and went to a company that would help me find a job. Instead of helping me find a job, they hired me. Three years later, I started my own company. Five years later, I sold it. Two and half years later, I started ANOTHER company.

Today, my boss from a decade ago just asked if I'd be interested in coming back. There are a LOT of pros and cons.

Cons

1. I wouldn't be my own boss.
2. I wouldn't make potentially huge amounts like I possibly might at my firm.
3. I wouldn't have nearly the flexibility for parenting time that I have here at my own place.
4. Jobs go away. If I lose this job, what happens?
   

Pros

1. I would get some nice (but not huge) $ up front for the company I currently have... college tuition, anyone?
2. I would learn a huge amount about mine and related industries, in a way that I absolutely would not be able to learn on my own.
3. This knowledge would make me much more marketable should, God forbid, the new gig didn't work out.
4. I would be surrounded by people who would provide all kinds of new input... currently, I'm pretty much the generator of 100% of the ideas, and have been for a decade. I'm enormously attracted to intellectual challenge.
5. It would be a decent salary, the base of which would not be subject to change: stability, stability, stability... and the ability to plan a bit.

This totally defines the idea of a luxury problem, and I know this. Still, my head is spinning with the possibility of change. Again.

Love to all. Even you, the guy who did coke in front of his employees.

Like wind.

My cousin is a photographer. Part of the way he makes money is by shooting stock photos. A couple of the stock photos he's sold are of my children. Today, I was asked to show those photos to a some folks from another stock photgraphy house that's on the same floor as my office.

So I did.

When the picture of my daughter came up, I swear to God, I could barely breathe. My love for this girl hit me so strong and was so overwhelming it was hard for me to think. It blew through me like a strong wind, and when it hit me like that there was pretty much nothing I could do but just live the moment. It was sharp and painful and exquisite and utterly unique to this one little girl.

All I want I really want in the world, when it all comes down to it, is her happiness. I want people to be nice to her. When she looks in the mirror, I want her to like the person she sees looking back at her.

And I'm going to do everything I can to make that happen.

Love to all. Even you, boys.

Sometimes I'm such an ass. :-)

"I want you both to know that you are very, very important to me...in a very, very limited way."

- Me, to two of my friends.

Love to all.

Am I a prick because I don't do memes?

Every now and then I get "tagged" with a meme... and I ignore it.

The thing is, I've been tagged by some nice people... and from folks whose blogs I like... but I'm just not into the whole Chain Content thing. I do like the concept of Memetic Drift, though. So if y'all ever want to get together and play Telephone in person, we'll set up a time where everyone can drive, fly, or take the subway to my office in NYC, and we'll sit in a big circle and play.

I'll even reserve a conference room.

Love to all. Even you, utility guy.

Ice cream headaches.

Has anybody out there ever purposefully eaten ice cream way too quickly… just to get one of those hyper-intense ice cream headaches… just so you can feel it melt away?

I used to do that all them time.

Love to all.

It’s good to be a bug.

Can you imagine yourself in a particular mood? Try it: imagine yourself pissed off, annoyed, happy, or scared. My guess is that you can do a pretty good approximation of your thought processes… how you think, what you’d say, do, etc.

Me too.

But when I get into moods like the one I was in from yesterday into this morning, I can’t even begin to replicate it once the mood has passed. It’s like I’m a different person.

This morning, I felt really low. I felt like people (myself included) were nothing more than advanced bugs, whose every action and mood were simply complex extrapolations of termite behavior… and that it was incredibly arrogant to pretend otherwise. But I also felt (and feel) that God, the Spirit, etc., was everywhere in equal measure… so being a bug isn’t all that bad, in the end.

It was a strange mood.

What did I do to change my mood? I hunkered down and got my shit done. I had a very difficult conversation with an employee. I did all of my direct marketing. I spent an hour on the phone with Dell getting an RMA number for a printer and getting another printer fixed. I scheduled employee interviews. I called a bunch of friends. I went to the tanning salon (for psoriasis, not for vanity). And I ran 5 miles at the gym.

Also, I got interviewed for a magazine article about branding in my industry. That was way cool.

So I feel better. But man, I’m glad those moods are few and far between. Yeesh.

And by the way, the comments you all left me absolutely rock.

Love to all. Even you, the ornery Akita on 5th and 13th.

Sludge.

I’m depressed today. I admit it. 99% of the time, I’m a happy dude. With apologies to all, I’m going to list the things that are depressing me today, in the hope that this will disperse said depression:

1. My employee quitting.
2. Not knowing the status of my other employee.
3. My daughter has strep, which means that
4. I might have strep, which means that
5. My fucking psoriasis will continue to go ballistic. Ouch.
6. Islamic extremists torching shit because of a cartoon which depicted Mohammed as someone who would torch shit.
7. The President of Iran planning to wipe Israel off the face of the planet.
8. Maggie and I not being home on the same night all this week.

That is all.

Love to all. Even you, shaky.

Why I love Maggie.

Maggie is the most certain person I've ever met.

I don't mean that in terms of self-confidence. Especially now: since she's just about to venture into the working world for the first time in over a decade, she is absolutely awash in fear and insecurity.

But. When it comes to who she is, what she loves, and most importantly, how to kick back and enjoy life, I've never met anyone like her. She has a perfect assuredness of character that allows her to navigate events with true joy. She radiates love, and brings warmth and a gentle happiness to every room she enters.

Last night we went to the opera. La Traviata. In spite of being a cultural gorilla, I enjoyed it. Maggie, looking so cute with her opera glasses, was moved to tears. Looking at her, I felt a little burst of deep emotion that, previously, had been reserved for my daughter alone.

Nice to know that after 12 years, love can grow.

Love to all. Even you, Blayne Edwards.

Fun with Islamic Exremists. (And American, too)

Let's see:

The President of Iran, who is one of the few leaders I think is worse than my country's, recalled it's ambassador to Denmark because of a drawing in a non-affiliated newspaper. Genius. The Pakistani goverment passed a resolution condeming the cartoons of the Islamic Prophet: I wonder if they've ever passed a unanimous resolution condemning suicide bombings? The Danish embassies were destroyed in Syria and Lebanon... because of something the Danish government didn't do and couldn't (shouldn't) control. Iran has declared an end to cooperation with the IAEA, and has promised full-scale uranium enrichment beginning.... now.

Raise your hand if you think a massive two-part process, Ethanol-for-Gas replacement concurrent with a Fuel-Cell Manhattan Project, is in order.

I'm in a bit of a personal quandary, here. On the one hand, I think President of Iran has said enough crazy shit that a preemptive strike is actually warranted. (And that's something you'll probably never hear from me again.) The problem is: so has the President of America.

In the face of catastrophic failure of Reasons for War, my President (although I never voted for him) now claims that he wants to spread democracy throughout the middle east. Since when has it become our fucking job to effect regime change in countries that have not, and likely will not, attack us?

By declaring his intentions, George Bush has opened the door for bad things to come, and reduced our national policy to Thugs of Ideology. Ugh.

Love to all.

This is a bad comedy.

For my 37th birthday, Maggie got me a 42-inch HD Plasma TV. I was totally blown away. I didn't mention it because, I think, I was mildly embarrassed at having such an awesome, huge-ass TV. We've had it for 2 days.

But now that my son's 5-year-old friend just knocked a strawberry shake directly onto the screen... with shake leaking into the fucking crack between the screen and the molding... I guess it's okay to mention.

That's it from me right now. Love to all. Even you, kid. Even you.

p.s. I forgot to mention: In the half-hour before the Shake Event, our washing machine burned out and our babysitter canceled for our big night at the opera. Oh, and Maggie is at the mall, and I have three kids over for play dates, in addition to my own.

Intercontinental Ballistic Crucifix

Offended by a cartoon showing the Prophet Muhammed wearing a bomb on his head, radical Muslims are destroying things and threatening to blow shit up.

That makes sense.

I also like how these same extremists are demanding that the Danish government apologize for something printed by an independent newspaper.

Oh. My. God. This bothers me so much, I'm going to use color.

I think that if someone drew a cartoon of Jesus Christ nailed to the cross, where the vertical plank of the crucifix was an ICBM, I would take that as a commentary on how George Bush uses religion as a motivation for war... on how RADICALS ARE FUCKING UP THE MESSAGE.

That all I have to say. Love to all.

Your religion is wrong. (And a little right.)

Here's what I decided: our attempts at understanding God are inherently wrong. There's just no way, in a universe this big... or conversely, in a universe where we are so incredibly teeny-weeny, that we're gonna figure out God. Not happening.

Mild sidebar: Wired just had had an article about how all these monks were able to radically change their brains through meditation, to the point that they pumped out 3000% of the gamma waves of other people... and could put their brains into a unified state of radiation that is otherwise only seen (and very rarely) in people under anasthesia.

So: I believe that we're never going to understand the universe. There's probably stuff we're not even remotely capable thinking about, let alone understanding.

But: I do believe that there's a flow to things. An energy beyond anything we can ever comprehend, and that some people have been able to tap into that. In Christianity and Islam, they call it the Holy Spirit. And in the Koran, Jesus is referred to as someone who is "strengthened by the spirit." Makes sense to me.

My point is this: all these different religions have found unique but probably-equally-valid ways to effect spiritual change. None of them have got it completely right, because we don't have the capacity to get it.

Whatever "it" means.

I used to parrot the phrase "There are many paths to God." I believed it, kind of... but I didn't feel it. Now I do.

Love to all. Even you, the Art Director in black.

Happy birthday to me, and thanks for the facts!

So I'm 37 now. I've decided not to be 40 until I'm 40. Rock on. I'm completely exhausted from the Florida trip, so I'm taking a half-day off.

It was way cool to get home to such funky tidbits from the previous post.

Zube, ITS, Princess, Lisa, Nupy, debambam, CJ, 2Vamp, Terry and Gina: You guys ROCK. Now, I’m gonna go fact check all of your comments. You better be right, or there may be fines, imprisonment, or both.

More later.

Love to all.

Tell me something I don't know.

Yo.

Flying back to NYC today. When I get home late tonight, I'd like to learn some things. To that end: would you tell me something that I don't know? Some obscure fact that you know that most people don't?

That would be killer. Thanks in advance.

Love to all. Even you, the dumb guy with the connections.