Colonel Kurtz must have worked in Software Development

The contract ended a couple of weeks ago. It was positive turnout, but there was no more work, and I found myself without a paycheck. That stressed me. Besides, what is my future in Software Development? Do I really want to continue in this field?

Yesterday, I drove to a local barbeque joint, applied, and was hired on the spot. I start a week from Tuesday, and I must say, it made me feel good. I will do it all - cook, clean, wait on customers, and I may even help the owner with his web site. The pay is far less than I'm used to, but I look forward to doing something different - something in the food service industry where personality does count. In Software Development it's all about the task. You can be the most dynamic person in the world, but if you aren't a nose down coder, it doesn't work. If you don't think like they do, they don't know what to do. They won't tell you because they can't - because they just don't know how to express themselves. Frankly, I'm sick of inexpressive, blase people.

I've forgotten what it's like to work at a job where a good line gets praise; where they actually appreciate a good joke, or say , he's good for morale, or dang, he's a nice guy. In Software, none of that matters. It's all about the code. The Code... The Code.... The Horror.... The Horror...

You Cannot Pick Your Relatives.

Two years ago, when she came out to Seattle for a visit, she stayed the week, and we had lots of fun. We went out to dinner, made dinner at home with my ex, went for walks, went out for karaoke, and had some very nice talks. After she left, I said, wow, it seems like it's the start of  a better and  a closer relationship.  I was pleased beyond compare.

Several days after she left, I called her on my cell, and left a message. Days passed but the message was not returned. People get busy, and forget about left messages - that must have been it, I thought. After several more days, I tried again, and the result was the same. It might have been a week later that I finally received a call from her. Nothing was said about not returning the calls, so I left it at that.

During the next few months, the patterned continued. I was confused. Didn't we have a great visit? Why the avoidance, why the silence? Was there something I was missing? Knowing how fragile our relationship had been in the past, I didn't want to push limits, so I held my questions.

After a couple of more calls and emails, I finally came to the conclusion that she wasn't interested in having a relationship. I was hurt, disappointed, and angry. I tried to be open-minded, realizing that part of the reason for the break-down was me - for what I did or didn't do in the past. That said, I also realized, that during the past few years, there had been no incidents between us. Things seemed friendlier, better. I easily recognized my misdoings in the past. What about her - could she forgive and see her part or lack of it? In the light of things beening benign between us in recent times, why act friendly in person, then disappear into silence?

Since moving to Connecticut, I've seen her on several occasions. On her visits, she can be quite friendly, but when she's back home, I never hear from her. At first, I called her, even talked to her. All seemed well, but then I realized that she and someone else in this house call each other practically everyday. Does she ever say, 'Hey, how's he doing' or 'Pass him the phone, I'd like to say hello?' Never.

Last time she visited, she greeted my with a big smile. "Hey, give me a hug," she said. I did, but it didn't feel quite right. During the visit, we talked a bit, but didn't hang out. I really didn't feel like reaching out. I didn't make any motions to do things with her, and neither did she with me. We spent a week together in what I'd call "Friendly Indifference." I remember little else about her visit, except for two comments. One happened when we were talking about the garden, which at time, was coming into its own, and was growing by leaps and bounds, producing a variety of vegetables. I must say, it looked fantastic. The only part of the garden that was lacking was a little patch of Basil, which I'd planted as an after-thought, and was being overwhelmed by Beetles. Of course, that's what she noticed, and said with a smirk, "How come the Basil's not doing well?" I said nothing.

The other comment, I let pass, too. We were sitting around the dinner table in the presence of friends. Dinner was been finished, and we were conversing over coffee. I don't know how we came to the subject, but family came up. In a flash, she turned to me, and said, "We can't pick them, can we, Monkey?" It took me by surprise. It wasn't until later that I wondered if it was a coincidence, or was it meant as a dig in the protection of company? In past times, I might have challenged her, and been drawn into an argument. I used to react badly, and say some awful things. I became labelled a hot head, and an angry guy. But those days are over. I said nothing in response because, what can you say, really? You certainly cannot pick your relatives. And by the way, Relative, the Basil has rebounded, and is doing fantastic.

How did they do it a long time ago?

I don't remember it being so humid and hot in a long time. That's probably because I lived in Seattle for the last six years, and over there, you experience only dry heat. Heat is one thing, but couple it with humidity, and you've got a real struggle on your hands.

Last week after work, while walking up the steep hill to the parking lot where my car was, I became very aware of every breath I took. The sun and the humidity made it feel like I was carrying a fifty pound rucksack on my back. At the very top, I had to double over to catch my breath. There was another thirty yards to my car, but the walk felt like a mile.

Over the next few days, I had many similar experiences. Funny thing was, there were even times when I was resting that I suddenly felt very drained and very drowsy, as if I could just close my eyes and go to sleep right there. I suppose that's an effect of humidity. It drains one even at rest.

In all this time, I did not use an air conditioner. I could have, but I didn't. At night, the air cooled down enough so that a box fan in the window blew in enough comfort to merit a good night of sleep. That was during the first few days, but the heat and humidity didn't abate. I actually think it got worse.

One night, I slept at my girlfriend's, in an air conditioned room, and noticed the difference between the air in that room, and how Hellish it was outside. Immediately, I thought of the times before air conditioning. How did they live and sleep without it? I suppose there's all kinds of tricks one can employ when one has to, but, right now, it's too hot and humid to ruminate too much. Instead, I'll take it on faith that life sucked without air conditioning. That was then, and this is now. I will simply retire to my room and with one turn of a knob be cooled to Arctic delight.

Long Weekend Half-Way Over

Yesterday, I spent a fair part of the day trying to figure out what I was going to do. I'd get up to do something, then, after five minutes of ruminating, I'd sit down for another half hour, and start the process all over again. It was so hot and humid so getting into tape loop way of thinking was very easy to do. Normally, I don't mind the echoing. After all, much of life is repetitive. Computers are like that. They do the same things over and over again, and no one complains. I guess that's the nature of a machine.

I like to think of myself as creative and free-thinking, not a slave to habit, or compulsion, and that's probably what troubled me when I was unable to decide what I wanted to do yesterday. Besides, weekends pass so quickly. I didn't want to find myself late on Sunday afternoon saying, why didn't I do anything all weekend?

Today is different.  I went with the flow. I woke up late, and turned my back on expectations. Pepito and I took a drive. I bought a cup of coffee, then we went to a local wooded lake area for a walk. It was so cool and tranquil, and we so much enjoyed the scenery and seeing other people and their dogs walking that I forgot about what we were supposed to do. I just enjoyed the moment. Yes, I was in the moment as they say when you're an Actor. I was just an actor playing out my scene in life, and could have cared less about anything else at that time. Now that's living. And to be honest, if that's the only thing of consequence I do for the rest of the weekend, then I've done something grand. Amen.

Cultivating those Angels

Someone in my life is a control freak. She' always been, and probably will be till the day she dies. She's always engaged, always busy, but the funny thing is, few things get done. In her realm, there's many piles of paper scattered about, keys are lost regularly. Her idea of house work is sweeping five piles of dust in three different rooms and leaving them there until someone else picks them up. The bank card is never to be found when needed.  It's a revolving Easter egg hunt, but without the fun factor.

She has a great heart, but her help is often unwanted. What does she do? She does what she was just asked not to do anyways, often to the annoyance and frustration of the others. If you ask her not to help, she gets mad or hurt. She'll say that you're disparaging her, and why does she bother - no one appreciates her.

Just the other day, a person who helps her on a regular basis, confided in me. Now this guy has the patience of Job, and a fair amount of Mother Theresa in him, and even he was complaining. He confessed that she is constantly trying to help when he doesn't need her help. He smiled nervously, but I could feel his frustration.

Over the years, my frustration grew to resentment. I tried to talk it out with her, but, like all of us regarding certain foibles, she's never wrong. Before, I'd blow up, and argue, but now, I just smile and high-tail it out, making some excuse like I have a nervous colon, and have to run to the bathroom.

Yesterday, she said, we should spend more time together. Yes, I agreed, but after I walked away, I felt nervous, and thought, is that a good idea? 

As someone who is trying to cultivate the better Angels in me, it may be necessary. Why we behave in the stupid, ignorant, and appalling ways we do could be a reaction to some of the things we've suffered along the way. I've often wondered, after having experienced some of life's jolts, that, maybe, if there was someone there who could have listened, what a difference it might have made. Rather than point fingers, I ask myself, what can I do to make a difference?

Summer: heat and humidity, finally writing again

It's a sticky one. I sit upstairs in the t.v. room, box fan rumbling like a winded jogger, doing its best to blow the evening air through the room. Pepito, exhausted, lays on a blanket on the couch. I switch back and forth between The Dog Whisperer and The Yanks vs Texas. Down 4-1, now in the 6th, they battled back to 4-3. Joba's takes the mound - good luck. It seems every time he pitches, it's Christmas for the other team. Pop up. One out - maybe I can relax, and come to terms with my lack of writing output. I haven't been posting. Part of it is that I've been adjusting to my new contract, and so far, six weeks into it, things are good. Joba just gave up a two-run homer - when will the Yanks finally get rid of him? Anyways, it feels good to find my groove work-wise, but my writing output has been low. I could say writing is hard, and that it's even harder in the heat and humidity, but that's a lame excuse, and rather than make more excuses, I'm just going to say, tonight is the start of a new and lasting burst of expression, heat and humidity, Yankees win or loss - no more excuses.

Tuesday Morning Musing

Orange light
leaks through
that crack.
It glows sore thumb
bright
under the blind,
can't be ignored.
You try,
but it throbs
awakening you
beneath the blankets,
where you wish
to hold back
time.
It's impossible.
They say, anything's possible,
but that's just crap,
bible verse, Hallmark card
wishes.
Could it be true?
You know little changes,
but the garden grows,
so you anticipate August
like the end of a week
hoping, maybe,
in some
stolen moment,
there will be fruit.