Sudden awesomeness.

So, I'm on the phone with a friend of mine, walking through Grand Central Station. These three big 20-somethings walk by me. And right as they pass me, one of them says: "Man, it's like Grand Central Station in here!"

Oh. My. God.

I told my friend to hold on, and ran after the dude who said it.

You see, I've been coming through Grand Central Station for a 11 years, and I've never heard anyone make that joke before. It's like the most obvious joke ever, and it never occured to me. It was well delivered, and it was FUNNY.

I caught up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. He whirled around, surprised. I said to him: "Excuse me, dude. But I've been commuting forever, and I've NEVER heard anyone make that joke before. I'm kind of stunned. That was awesome. Well done."

He said: "Glad you enjoyed it. Glad I was here for you."

Then I continued my phone call with my friend.

Love to all. Even you, the guy who keeps letting his newspaper dangle over my computer monitor.

Tact.

I was reading a blog which referred to a blog so I went to the blog's blog. Say what?

I'm not going to mention it by name or link to it or anything, because this post isn't about the blog's owner, really. I don't know the dude at all. Could be a saint, could be a serial killer. I do know, though, that we have two degrees of link separation, so we've got mutual blog-friends. Besides, the last time I visited did a link-list visit, I got in all kinds of trouble.

Anyway.

The splash page of the blog has the slogan: "Tact is for pussies." The main banner is a picture of Adolf Hitler riding in a car, with the blog's owner (ice cream cone in hand) photoshopped in so that he appears to be sitting next to him.

As an ex-assistant Hebrew School teach who converted to Roman Catholicism in 2003, my first thought was: "Oh, yuck." I mean, I'm a big fan of irony and weirdness and all, but I personally don't see any reason, ever, to dilute what each and every person on the planet should think of every time they see a picture of Adolf Hitler. I feel strongly enough about it that I won't visit the blog again. Even if someone I like likes him. Even if he's a really cool dude.

I just don't want to see it.

Call me overly sensitive, but I've got no interest in peeking at a photographic Hitler cartoon on a semi-regular basis.

My second thought, though, was "I think me and this dude have different definitions of the word 'tact.'"

For me, tact isn't a weakness. It's a form of respect. And a lack of tact doesn't mean fearlessness, or not caring what other people think. Tact means "sensitivity in dealing with others or with difficult issues." I take that to mean that approaching things tactfully is actually a sign of strength and self-confidence.

It reminds me that I need to be more tactful with my children, my spouse, and the people who work for me... that I need to approach people with their needs in mind.

Tact, baby. It's for the strong.

Anyway: the dude's blog... or at least the title and header image... gave me a good bit to think about. So I'm grateful for that. It's interesting how I can sometimes react strongly to a few little words.

Love to all. Even you, the dude who justified stealing.

Temporary Dickishness.

Well, I'm over it.

I had a back and forth with the guy last night, and he explained the things which made him change directions. And while wouldn't have made the choice he made, the reasoning was... dammit... the reasoning was sound.

What's made me feel good about entire process was:

1. Professionally - he validated my interpretation of one of his pre-decision emails yesterday... the tenor of which indicated that he had suddenly gone from accepting to not - I told my staff this... so I'm glad my between-the-lines radar is still calibrated.
2. Personally - I practiced restraint of pen and tongue. Or anyone else. And now, although we lost out on closing a quarter-changing deal, we have a new potential client (he's running creative at a mid-size ad agency), and a new fan of our process. He wrote me this morning to say: "And I have to say you both have been one of the best experiences I've had with [people like you]. I also can refer you to at least 2 art directors who are looking to get out of [another company] before it shuts down."

So that's nice.

On this here blog? I wasn't so nice. But hey, if I can't vent here, where the fuck CAN I vent?

Anyway: today's another day. Capitalism + ethics = my company. Onward.

Love to all. Even you, the social studies teacher with the frequent, heavy sigh.

Played.

Biggest deal of the year. Big fee. Perfect match client and candidate. The client did everything the candidate wanted. Best benefit package I've ever seen. Hell, the senior management of this nationally renown publishing firm -- the President, Creative VP, more -- all stayed up late into the night to get this guy an offer that would make him happy, because he said he had to make a decision by early this morning.

But then, once the offer was in, he suddenly had to do "research" into something else that would take all afternoon. That was when I got suspicious.

It seems he was just playing them, in order to get a better offer somewhere else.

I understand weighing your options. I really do. But if you say: "This, this, and this would be perfect." And the response is everything you wanted plus quite a bit more, without any negotiation, you should damn well live up to your word. I know of very few companies that make the kinds of offers that these folks did. It's a rare and straightforward declaration of value.

Sure, I'm pissed that my company isn't getting a commission. It would have been tremendous. But I'm MORE pissed that this guy led us on.

Anyway. I'm going to allow myself to be miserable for another hour or two, then get over it.

Love to all. Even you, fucker.

Good question.

Evilynmo from Letters from Eve tagged me with a "7 songs you're currently into" query. This took a trip to my iPod(s), and the various "play count" lists. I think that this is only the second time I've ever responded to a tag... I liked the idea of taking a look at what I'm actually listening too... not to mention the fact that Evilynmo kind of kicks ass, in a totally wholesome and my-marital-status-appropriate way.

So here's the scoop (Song - Album - Artist):

1. Silent Shout - Silent Shout - The Knife
2. Beyond Reach - Come Clean - Curve
3. Idioteque (live) - I Might Be Wrong - Radiohead
4. R30 Overture - 30th Anniversary World Tour - Rush
5. Honey - Big Beautiful Sky - Venus Hum
6. Marvo Ging - Push the Button - The Chemical Brothers
7. Stolen Car - Central Reservation - Beth Orton

And there you are. I think I'll make a playlist of just these songs... just so I can listen to them until I'm ready to move on.

Love to all. Even you, the big lady with the lack of bodily control.

More on Atlanta, Commenters, and Decatur.

First of all: let me apologize if my comment on Decatur (and Decaturians) seemed sweepingly negative. My comment related only signs put up by a neighborhood organization, that were well-meaning but kind of depressing... like "The pain will end," or "You'll catch your breath" or something along those lines. Basically, they were trying to make us feel better about problems that may not have existed... but accidentally reminding us that we might be out of breath soon, or in lots of pain. It's like asking someone with poison ivy: "Does it itch?" :-)

Of course, it was totally from a good place. It just was funny.

The race was hard. It was really hot towards the end. And Atlanta isn't hilly, in terms of steepness, but uphill grades can last for a mile. Hell, mile 25 was a hill.

When I came to a long, long, hill, I prayed:

Thank you, God, for the opportunity to run up this hill. I am so lucky to be living a life so blessed.

I finished the race like I try to finish every race: at a sprint. This was hard, though. I tried to get myself to sprint and was, like, stuck. So I fucking GROWLED my way to a sprint, literally roaring (which I don't normally do, mind you) my way to speed... and the last 100 yards were full-on, with people yelling "GO RICHIE GO!!" It was a totally awesome moment.

I crossed the finish line and couldn't breathe for a second. And official came over and asked if I needed help. Something in the way I answered made her smile. I guess I looked bad for a second, there.

I walked back to my hotel room and immediately called Delta and switch my flight so I could leave that afternoon. There was no reason for me to stay in Atlanta, with Maggie, kids, and friends back at home. I thought I would want to recover for a day, but I didn't.

So I got the 4:45 (after trying to switch again to the 2:45, since I left myself WAY too much time to get to the airport), got my car from the LaGuardia lot, and was home by 8pm.

Phew. Adventure over.

Finally: thanks, thanks, thanks for the comments. It's such a cool thing to have blog-friends out there.

Okay. Shower time.

Love to all. Even you, the light-heavyweight who used his elbows.

ING Georgia Marathon: a personal record.

Holy crap.

I beat my NYC time by almost two minutes... although this was way harder, with 80-degree, sunny weather with reaallllly long hills.

I came in at 3:43:47. Yowza.

I just changed my flight so that I can go home tonight. This was fun, but there's no reason for me to be here, and I miss my family.

Love to all. Even you, the Decatur group that put up the most depressing "inspirational signs" I have ever, ever, seen.

View from the top.

Jeez.

If you're ever at the Omni Hotel in Atlanta, and you come back for the second time to see if your room is ready, and you think you were a little snippy about it when they told you that it's still not ready, and then you apologize for sounding snippy...

...the nice check-in lady might suddenly find a kick-ass room at the top floor with a cool deck overlooking the CNN Atrium.

I mean... I know I should be nice because that's the right way to be... but it's kind of cool that there are occasional perks to not being a dick.

Love to all. Even you, line cutter.

Terminal.

Terminal as in, posting from.

Gate 1, LaGuardia, Delta. Security line was lllllong, but I got here in plenty of time.

Whoops! They're boarding already. Crazy.

Love to all. Even you, the guy who is making a loud stink about getting bumped previously.

Atlanta, here I come!

Me? I'm heading down via airplane. My family, via the writing on the back of my shirt.

Got to get up at 4:30am tomorrow for my 6:59 flight. Talk to you from Atlanta.

Love to all. Even you, the lady who got mad because we sent her pay stubs to the address she gave us.

No no no no no.

I have strep. Low fever. Icky.

They gave me a 3-day course of Azythromycin so I don't have to take anything the day of the race. I feel like crappity crap.

Love to all.

So important.

I had dinner plans with my oldest last night. He asked me last week if, one night, he and I could go to the diner together.... just the two of us.

I got home from work at 7:25pm. My son sprinted over to me and said: "Are you ready? are you ready? This is going to be so awesome!" For a minute, there, I thought that he was confused about what we were doing... then I realized he was just thrilled to be hanging out with me.

So, God: I don't know what I did to deserve this, but: Thanks.

We were out the door by 7:35.

Dinner in our house normally takes 15 minutes at best. And it usually involves my daughter rejecting whatever Maggie made, and my youngest wanting to be finished quickly so he can have desert.

My oldest and I chilled out over omelettes toast for an hour. We had a really wide-ranging conversation about school, friends, my father, smoking, alcoholism (he does NOT know that I'm a recovered alcoholic... he actually brought it up in a completely different context)... it was, as he said later, "awesome."

He said some amazing things. He said he's glad Maggie told him about my father (and my trying to contact him recently) because it makes him understand that my father is sick... and instead of getting angry at him, he just feels bad for him. "It's sad for you and me, Dad, but it's REALLY sad for him."

My goodness.

He said: "We have a lot of traits in common, Dad."

He said: "I can tell you've worried about work, because you've been a little irritable."

He said: "I love spending time with you just you and me."

He explained the intricacies of the 5th-grade school day. He did a fabulous imitation of one of his teachers when she gets mad. He told me about his new hockey and baseball teams.

We decided to have dinner together once a month from now on. Frequent enough to be a really good thing, but infrequent enough to keep it special. Again, his idea.

So, the only way I can wrap this post is to say it again: Thanks, God. Seriously.

Love to all: even you, the commuter guy who repeatedly coughed jelly doughnut onto the train floor.

Let's not do that.

5:32am - two of my kids have been up for a while. Usually, I'm the only one up when I leave for work. Both have sore throats. Mine's been a little weird the last two days, too.

I do not want to get sick before Atlanta.

I think I might try to sleep in tomorrow morning, since that's my last chance to get a good night's sleep until Monday, most likely.

Love to all.

Insecure.

!--begin geek rant
My company is financed by an outside company. It's the only way we can afford to grow. It's an expensive proposition: they get chunk of sales off the top, and in return we get 95% of our receivables within a few days of billing them. Such is the tradeoff of the small business concern.

Sales data is entered remotely, via their extranet.

They had to set up another account for us today, because of something we were doing that required a different accounting method. I called the rep because I hadn't received my password.

She said: "It's the same as your current login."
I said, "No, I actually changed our password right after you set up the account."
She said "But I just got it and gave it to your partner. Isn't it -"

And then she told me my password.

Now, in every fucking half-secure system on the planet, passwords are encrypted, and tech people should only be able to CHANGE a user's password, not look it up and give it out. This security method allows tech people the ability to help a user who has forgotten their password, but unable pull the user's password and get into their account.

And if the passwords are just STORED somewhere in employee-accessible form, they're ripe for stealing.

I told my rep this.

She said: "What would you do with any of that information, anyway?"
I said: "For starters, I'd take all of the stored employee data and go on a massive identity theft binge."
She said: "Well, we won't hire YOU."

Ha fucking ha.

I'm kind of blown away. This place is owned by a fucking BANK. Then again, I should have suspected as much when they told me that fixing a Java error in their accounting software was a "feature request."

Shit.
!--end geek rant

Love to all. Even you, Pedro the tech guy.

Briefly.

• Up at 5am.
• Train at 5:45am.
• AA meeting at 7:30am.
• Work at 8:40am.
• Work completely non-stop until 5:35pm.
• Train home at 6pm.
• <-----I am here----->
  
• Arrive at home train station at 7pm.
• Pick up son at hockey at 7:10pm.
• Get Maggie home at 7:20pm.
• Maggie leaves at 7:20pm.
• Put youngest kids to bed at 8pm.
• Run 4 miles at 8:15pm
• Try to sleep sometime before 11pm.

Love to all. Even you, Chompy McChewalot.

Not so funny.

"What's Bush going to do after he leaves office... teach?"

The audience laughed heartily. It was, after all, an NPR show, and NPR is famously liberal, right?

But you know what? It's pretty pathetic when the idea of your current President attempting to teach a course is obviously laughable, because the guy's so factually inept and logically splintered.

Leader of my country, indeed. Sigh.

Love to all. Even you, the guy with the tan khakis and dust-covered fleece pullover.

Small claims, big money.

I just came from New York City small claims court. We had three different claims against the same company, covering various invoices over the course of time. The client is a notorious deadbeat who has scammed dozens of people out of tens of thousands of dollars. The way I found out that we were in serious trouble was when my new partners saw we were working with them. Turns out they had owed them $40,000 a couple of years ago.

The owners of my first company got tagged as well, having worked with them a year ago. I found this out over lunch.

This time, though, it seems they are actually declaring bankruptcy: the CFO, the Creative Director, and other employees of their firm are sending resumes out left and right.

Small claims court was actually fun. My friend Lisa went with me, and we basically chit-chatted for three hours. She wanted to see what it was like, because she's starting a claim of her own.

My case was called dead last. DEAD LAST. The funny thing? The only other time I was in small claims court, the same thing happened. Dead last.

My opponent didn't even bother to show. This is good, because I presented my well -documented (if I do say so myself) case without opposition. This is bad, because it means they can present an excuse to the judge, if they so choose. If the judge buys it, we have to do this again.

Anyway. I'm a bit fried and a bit tired, but I'm really happy that I have a business that can get tagged for 12 grand and not close, friends who will sit with me in court for hours, and a family at home that will be glad to see me... if they're awake.

Love to all. Even you, The Weiss Family.

Shark! Sharrrrrrk!

In the summer of last year, I told my son that when he beats me in ping-pong I would let him watch Jaws. I was confident in the fact that it would take years. YEARS! The DVD would remain on the shelf, unwrapped and pristine, until well into the 2010's. Heck, we'd probably need to buy the NEXT video format, because DVD would be totally obsolete by the time he beat me.

We watched it last night. I forgot what a terrific movie it was. Quint is the man.

Love to all, even you, Mayor Vaughan.

p.s. 21-19.

Sensitive, unbelievably self-aware.

My son was really touchy last night. We were playing Fight Night 3 on the XBOX 360... and little jokes that were normally part of our banter made him get all sullen and depressed. He was playing the game with this really sad face, doing that thing kids do where they make every body gesture with that sad air of defeat.

At first, I got a bit annoyed, because it's no fun to play with someone when they're acting all bummed out. But I self-intervened and instead asked him what the scoop was...

...and lo and behold, he talked.

My 10-year-old boy is so unbelievably self-aware that he actually said: Dad, I think because I don't react when I get picked on so much in school I get upset by things that normally wouldn't bother me at home.

So we talked about the kids who make fun of him. The kids who constantly use the f-bomb. Who make fun of him because we don't let him watch TV-MA or most TV-14 shows. More importantly, HE talked about it, and how it made him feel.

It's hard for me to talk to him about this stuff, because I want SO much to:

1. Give him advice, which he doesn't want.
2. Go and beat the crap out of the boy's fathers with a fucking bat, which would be setting a bad example and, um, illegal.

In the end, I did a lot of listening... but also told him that he should know that he's not a doormat, and if he feels that kicking some kid in the balls would shut that kid up, well, I'd back him up if he got in trouble for doing it.

Now: I wouldn't say this to most kids... including my other two. Because they'd consider it a license to do it. But my boy doesn't. He just REALLY needs to know that we're there for him, and that we'll support him. Maggie has given him her own version of this speech.

We're meeting with all of his teachers in a little over a week to talk about how things are going for him, socially and academically. I'm interested to see their persepctive.

This parenting thing can be hard... but what I have to remember is that it's not as hard as being a kid.

Love to all. Even you, the parent who tried to kick an oncoming sled.

ADHD recap, week one.

For those of you keeping score, I just finished my first work week on 40mg of Adderall XR. And I finished it a tad early, because it's snowing like crazy where I live, so I want to get home while the roads are still passable. I'm actually leaving the Miata at the train station... Maggie is picking me up in the 4wd.

So: what's interesting about this medicine is, first of all, how much it's taught me about the LAST medicine. When I first started Adderall (fast release), I became a smile-free superman, handling every task, folding every piece of laundry, cleaning every part of my office.

And when that effect starting wearing off, I thought the medicine wasn't working anymore.

Now I know differently.

Adderall XR is much more subtle. I don't feel RADICALLY different, yet I'm able to work at my desk for a couple of hours at a time. I am forgetting to eat, though. Have to work on that.

The thing is, I think THIS is what Adderall (fast) was supposed to do in the first place.... not the Superman thing. I wish that my doc had given me a little more experiential advice.

Anyway. VERY interesting evening with my son tonight. I'll write about that later.

Love to all. Even you, the irritable woman who gets mad when other women are irritable.

Take me home, baby!

These are the shoes that'll take me through the Atlanta Marathon. I put six miles on 'em last night. They're brand new Asics Kayano XI's (forget the XII or XIII, new "old" Kayano's ROCK).

I'm getting psyched this, even though it's still a little over a week away.

Love to all. Even you, grumpy bus stop person.

Like nations.

When nations are under a strong dictatorship, there's often little civil unrest. Frequently, it's when people are given a taste of freedom that things get crazy.

When an alcoholic quits drinking, s/he often panics. NOT because things have suddenly gotten worse, but rather because they can see, without an alcohol- or hangover- induced haze, just what the situation actually is.

And me: having started treating my ADHD again, I can see the depth and breadth of the things I need to accomplish more clearly, and the sheer LENGTH of my to-do list is scaring the crap out of me.

Change for the good is scary.

Love to all. Even you, the CFO who keeps semi-committing.

Why I'm not writing about politics as much.

I used to write more about politics, and I'm sure I will again... but what's keeping from doing it now is simple: The current administration is SO absurd, and SO criminal, that it's too obvious to write about.

And I just LOVE the way people take "responsibility," like the Attorney General did recently over the utterly despicable, planned firings of U.S. Attorney's who didn't toe the Bush line. Apparently to "take responsibility" is simply say "I take responsibility."

Absurd.

Clinton + blowjob + not being honest about blowjob = impeachment.

Bush + fake reasons for war + shredding civil rights + exposing CIA agents + political firings of non-political (after appointment) workers + lying + lying + lying = ...

= ...

= Halliburton taking all their no-bid contract money and moving to Dubai.

Absurd.

Love to all. Even you, Albert O. Cornelison, Jr.

Shovel, pop-start, 40mg, life goes on.

My oldest smacked my Miata with a large metal shovel. It was an accident. It made a big scratch in the left front quarterpanel. But the Miata didn't feel anything: it was dead anyway.

When I got home last night, my car was still dead.

My oldest and I pushed it into the street, Maggie got in, we started it rolling down the big hill, got the hell out of the way, and watched Maggie pop-start it.

All's well that ends well, I guess.

I didn't mention that yesterday was my first day on 40mg of Adderall XR (I'd been ramping up from 20). It's a completely different experience than Adderall "regular." It's WAY less intense, with none of that "superman" crap that I experienced last year. It's definitely helping me to focus, but is definitely not making me all serious all the time. Day two starts in about half an hour. Haven't taken it yet.

Maggie approves, which is huge... and which is different than last time.

I missed a cell call yesterday with "no caller id." When Maggie calls, it's "blocked," so it wasn't her. I immediately thought that it was my parents, and my heart sank and soared at the site. Of course, I actually have no idea who it was. They didn't leave a message.

One day at a time, I'll accept this whole situation.

Again, thanks for all the comments. They mean a lot.

Love to all. Even you, the dude who coughs into his newspaper, which angles it into my face.

Weepy. Icky. Angry.

I slept in 20-minute spurts last night. Got out of bed at 4:00am. Showered. Had a cup of coffee. Decided to catch the 5:00am train. Got in my car.

Dead battery. Maggie accidentally left the key in it, and in the on position.

Ok. I'll take the 5:25. I get my shit together and walk the two miles to train station. I arrive 30 fucking SECONDS too late.

Now I'm in the station, waiting for the 5:45. I feel like crying. I know it's about my parents, not the train.

My sponsor says it's time to let go. I've done all I can do, and it's time to move on with the rest of my life. I think he's right, but I just can't BELIEVE they'd abandon my sons and daughter like this. Choosing anger over love, sickness over family...

...I want to break windows. I want to scream. I want to fucking understand this.

I've got nothing else right now. I'm a wreck.

Love to all.

Words fail me.

From my parents:

As a prerequisite to consideration of your offers, Maggie must first create, sign, and provide to us a document retracting pointedly, unequivocally, in its entirety, and to our satisfaction the complaint she filed with the [local] Police Department – of which we have a copy. She must then submit that document at the appropriate level to the [local] police, and provide to us verifiable proof that she has done so. Then, and only then, will we consider the offers contained in your email copied below.

No introduction, no signature.

This is in response to:

Dear Mom and Dad,

I'm writing to tell you that I'm truly sorry for all that has happened. We all miss you, and that if there's anyway to move past this, we would like to. I am more than willing to simply start anew.

I've been thinking about this for a while, now, but it was really a conversation I had with [my son] this morning (before hockey league tryouts!) that cemented the timing. He's a super-awesome 10-year-old boy, and I want you to be in his, and our lives.

And, with equal importance, I want him to be in YOUR lives.

I don't want you to miss out on a kid like this. (And the rest of 'em are pretty terrific, too!)

You are totally welcome to call me at xxx-xxx-xxxx if you would like to talk (my cell), or, during the week, at xxx-xxx-xxxx (my office).

I have the Atlanta Marathon in two weeks, but if you wanted me (or me n' [my son]) to fly out for a weekend in April, I'm sure we could figure that out.

I hope this note finds you well and happy. And warm!

Love,

Rich

Words just fail me. I mean, forget the fact that Maggie actually STOPPED the police from arresting my father after they read the frightening and threatening letters and faxes he was sending... the fact that I haven't spoken to them since 2003, and that they are putting this weird power trip /prove yourselve to us/ revenge thing ahead of having a relationship with their Grandchildren...

...it's just sick, sick, sick. It's sick. And it's ONLY remembering that he is ill that prevents me from being truly angry.

Love to all. Even you, Dad.

Message from God.

Part of today's Gospel:

Then [Jesus] told this parable: "A man had a fig tree, planted in his vineyard, and he went to look for fruit on it, but did not find any. So he said to the man who took care of the vineyard, 'For three years now I've been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and haven't found any. Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?'

" 'Sir,' the man replied, 'leave it alone for one more year, and I'll dig around it and fertilize it. If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down.' " Luke 13:6-8

Okay. So, maybe I'm supposed to try and fix things with my parents, but like all of you have said, not worry about the results yet.

What was especially Sign-like was that, the special song sung by the 4th-graders (it was the 4th grade mass today) was "Let my people go." Now, this is the song my brother and I REALLY got into at the Passover seder... and I've NEVER heard it in church before.

So, again: thanks there, God.

Love to all. Even you, big brother.

I guess no news is, um, no news.

I was sort of hoping to hear back from my parents today. I mean, even though the last time sucked, at least I knew right away where their mindset was.

But, as my best friend AND my sponsor said... I can't worry about results.

Ah, fuck. Let's be honest, here: it's not that I was "sort of hoping to hear back." I was hoping to hear something good. And to hear the voice of my mother and father or the first time since 2003. Regardless of what has happened in the past, they are my parents, I love them, and I miss them.

Thanks so much for the comments. It really means a lot. It says something about this world when you can get small kindnesses from people you might never meet in person.

Love to all.

Tiny little prayers.

Hey.

If you could say the littlest prayer for me, I'd appreciate it. I just sent my parents an email (after reading it to my sponsor), basically saying that love them and miss them and that I would like bygones to be bygones, and to move on. I haven't spoken with them in four years.

I don't expect it to work. But I should try not to expect anything.

Love to all. Even you, whoever programmed the Emjay phone system.

AIDS Denialists.

It's the same as murder.

This week's New Yorker has an excellent and disturbing article on AIDS denialists in South Africa. These are politicians and psuedo-scientists who claim that HIV does not cause AIDS, that retroviral drugs are poison, and that the entire HIV-industry was invented for the profit of Pharmaceutical companies.

(I think someone's confused antiretrovirals with recreational viagra.)

If you get a chance to read it, please do. What astouds me is NOT that there are people who think this way, it's how many people they've killed with their influence.

Love to all. Even you, Peter Duesberg.

Like father...

I love the fact that my five year old enjoys brushing his teeth more when:

1. He's using an electric toothbrush.
2. He's strolling through the house.

JUST like his Papa.

Love to all. Even you, liar-ass accounting guy.

Adderall XR thoughts, Day 1.

I can tell you that Adderall XR ain't Adderall, and that's a darn good thing. It doesn't come on like Adderall, which is terrific. And it seems to create kind of a low key effect that takes the noise out of my head, without making me Superman.

Hm.

I had lunch with my friend Eric, who told me that I seemed a bit "starey." Which was probably true. I also wasn't all that hungry. Hmm.

Anyway. I do 20mg for three more days, then on to 40. Then we hold there until April.

I'll make sure to post about things OTHER than Adderall XR, but hey: this is my life today.

Love to all. Even you, the lady who said the same word 8 times in a row. Loud.

Adderall redux: The XR edition.

It's been a while since my last attempt to treat my crazy-ass ADHD.

Positives:

1. The chatter in my head stopped for the first time ever.
2. I was able to actually do several consecutive hours of work at a time.
3. I could fucking focus on things, like completing a workout.
   

Negatives:

1. I was less funny.
2. I lost 25 pounds in 25 days.
3. I was borderline OCD.
4. I got too used to the spiky nature of Adderall.

After many months, I revisited my psychiatrist, and went over the situation. After much discussion, we decided that I would start on Adderall XR, a once-a-day, less-spiky, 12-hour medicine. 20mg for 4 days, then 40 mg/day.

I took my first dose about 2 hours ago.

So, here we go. Help or hinder? Friend or foe? I guess we'll find out.

Love to all. Even you, the interviewee who forgot pretty much everything.

Why I love my friends, part 29614.

This is a transcript of an email dialog between me and Eric, a dude who I've gotten to know (like, in real life) over the last few months.

E: Late lunch? 2:00?
R: How’s 1pm?
E: Conf call from 1:15 to 1:45. Thursday?
R: FUCK YOU.
E: I HATE YOU, I RESENT YOU, I DETEST YOU . . . . . I lurve you
R: I hate resenting you.
E: And I resent hating you
R: Together, we’re like a black-hearted candy of depression and discontent.
E: At least we’re candy :-)

It's the last line that I find completely endearing.

Love to all. Even you, the kids who tell my kid they're allowed to watch stuff they are clearly NOT allowed to watch.

My Daughter's Vacation.

Quoted verbatim (spelling corrected).

I went to Vermont! I was so good at skiing. I stayed there for a week! I got really homesick. When I went skiing with my Dad I could not stop. My dad fell and he told me and I said:

"I wondered who that was?"

Love to all. Even you, the guy who couldn't figure out the jump seat.

Back problems and an aborted run.

I was going to do a 20-mile training run, but at 13.5 miles I semi-tweaked my back and have NO interest in throwing my back out before the Atlanta Marathon. About an hour after this happened, my blog-friend TC posted about her husband calling mid-way through a marathon he is running today, right now, worried that he wouldn't make it.

The thing is, the dude already MADE it, because he's trying. He just inspired me to go to Atlanta no matter what. No matter what.

Love to all. Even you, whoever was driving the fast-moving Suburban.

Home gym.

And it only costs me college tuition.

Love to all. Even you, speechless guy in Target.

With THAT said...

Yesterday, I was feeling all googly-oogly about A.A., and how lucky I am to be sober.

Today, I'm using that as a jumping point to express a bit o' irk about 24, the TV show.

In THIS alcoholic's opinion.

• You can't take a five-second slug of whiskey, "spit it out," and then still be considered to be maintaining "continuous sobriety" in Alcoholics Anonymous.
  
• Nobody has a contact in their cell's address book that says "A.A. Sponsor." That's kind of an anonymity-breaker, I would think.
• If you're a straight dude, your sponsor is probably NOT a woman.

I feel like A.A. is often portrayed incorrectly and weirdly in the media. But how can it not be? It's an utterly unique sociological and cultural phenomenon, with no true leaders, a top-to-bottom reporting system, and incredible flexibility in what can happen from group to group to group.

Plus, it's magic. I'm not really kidding, here. It helps people, very often people are smart, strong-willed, driven, etc., but who couldn't put down the booze, to PUT DOWN THE BOOZE.

It's magic. Or God. Same thing.

Love to all. Even you, the lady at the next table who laughed and cried and laughed and cried.

Thanks there, God.

I've made no secret of the fact that I'm a member of Alcoholics Anonymous. I've been sober for about three and a half years. For the seven years prior, I wasn't. For the seven years prior, I was.

This means I had a seven year relapse.

This also means that I didn't take my first legal drink until I was 27 years old.

This also means I better go to AA pretty much forever. Even though it took two years of not going for me to think that I didn't have a problem, I was somehow able to convince myself that I was too young... that I had solved my problems... that I wasn't really an alcoholic.

I got sober at 20, thanks to the intervention of my parents and a bizarre stroke of trust that I can only attribute to God.

I got sober again at 35, thanks to a comment by Maggie and a inexplicable change in attitude that I can, again, only attribute to God.

So, um. Thanks there, God. Seriously.

Love to all. Even you, the guy who took a few to many percodans.

Frack!

Running late this morning. Slept in until 7am. Whoo hoo!

My daughter was playing the same little piece of music over and over again, and I realized that, without intention, she was playing the opening bars of the old "Battlestar Galactica" TV theme.

When my two youngest kids realized I was home (I'm usually gone when they get up), they chanted "Chase us! Chase us!" which means catch them and wrestle the crap out of them. So I did. I'm glad my youngest is only 5, because he accidentally caught me with a mean right cross to the jaw.

Work panic is settling to my whole chemical subsystem. Must run for the train.

Love to all. Even you, the dentist with the fantastic, incredibly expensive new equipment.