Category: grindstone

All about breadwinning.

Posted on

false alarm


Another night in another hotel, but I got to spend some time at home. And, I got to update Keaton’s gallery with pictures of her smiling. I’m so glad I came home for a night, it was well worth it.

Tonight around 11pm California time, Sharaun called me and said something frantic into the phone, which I couldn’t understand – we were then disconnected. I could tell by her tone, I immediately knew something was not right. I called right back, and got her voicemail as she beeped in on the other line. I swapped over, only to have her hang up. I tried again, and again. Finally, I got her, and, in a garbled hush of panicked whispering tears she plead: “David, someone opened the sliding glass screen door. I heard it.” My chest leapt, “Where are you, do you have the baby?” I responded. “I’m at the front door, inside, I have the baby. What do you want me to do?” Mind racing, I replied, “I want you to go outside, go across the street to the neighbors’ house; now.”

I heard the front door creak as I imagined her walking out into the night with my daughter clutched tight in fear. “Did you call the police?” I asked. “No, not yet.” Now, not that this wasn’t a situation of the utmost urgency to me, because… it was… but because my wife, though I love her to death, has a reputation for hearing things go “bump” in the night – I called our friend Erik, who lives close, and asked if he could come first; do a house check. In true superfriend fashion, he was there in 5min flat. It was a painful 5min for me, listening to Keaton cry as my wife stood in the neighbors’ driveway trying to console her, she must’ve thought her mom crazy for running into the night like that. Soon Sharaun saw Erik’s headlights round the corner, and I was instantly relieved.

Thankfully, the screen was untouched: locked from the inside. Whatever she did hear, though, scared the crap out of her – and made me wish I hadn’t left more than anything else in the world. Sorry to scare you with all the exposition, when the denouement was nothing more than the bogey man and shadows – but it makes for good blogging.

Spending a week wiping with cheap hotel toilet paper really tears up a guy’s ass. I’ll be glad to spend a week at home next week before heading to Germany… and maybe they’ll have better paper there, who knows.

That’s it, goodnight. Get your fix from Keaton’s gallery, OK?

Posted on

slacking is ubiquitous


Back at home, even if for just a brief visit. Good to hold my daughter on my chest and watch her squirm. I really… really, don’t want to leave again tomorrow. But, I guess it’s going to happen… want or not. Tonight’s entry will be lean, I’m beat down from travelling and want to sleep.

Today at our customer meeting, I sat next to a lead engineer and program manager from the company we were out presenting to. Being close to him, I had the opportunity to watch his laptop usage over his shoulder (all engineers have laptops on-hand 100% of the time). Turns out, he spent the entire meeting alternation between the screenwriting.info website, and a Word document containing his prospective screenplay. It heartened me, actually, seeing this high mucky-muck from XYZ corporation wasting his company’s money working on his pet project. It’s good that I’m not alone in letting personal passions trump professional responsibilities on occasion, validates me, so to speak. I took mental note of the gent’s name, just in case he has a breakthrough blockbuster in the box office some years down the road. Slacking: it’s ubiquitous.

The meeting once again went well, if the successful streak continues like this – I may end up with a big head, running around thinking I have the Midas touch for customer interaction. Nah… I’m just effin’ with ya… I’m sure I’ll feel the pain of a presentation gone wrong sometime in the future – just to keep me on my toes.

Goodnight.

Posted on

masturbate and head out for dinner


Houston; this hotel is shit.

No, not the shit… just shit. My credit card style key didn’t work, the bed is something you’d find at a summer camp, and someone in the room next to me is smoking like a chimney. The place smells like enchilada sauce, and there’s no wireless… people, I’m hooked up to a damn hard-wire to get online… what has the world come to? The lobby has a “complimentary” bucket of ice and Shasta soda mini-cans – Shasta; no joke. But, not being one to complain, I’ll just masturbate and head out for dinner… same old same old. Travel is part of my job, I accept that. Actually, if you promise you won’t misconstrue my saying this – I actually enjoy that my job involves travel. Travel suits me, eating on the company dime suits me, shaking hands and handing out business cards and making small talk, all these things suit me. But there is the other side…

Before I left, Sharaun was convinced that Keaton was beginning to smile. I saw what she was talking about, but I thought it less a smile and more just facial reaction to our voices (which is still no small milestone). Turns out, Sharaun was right. Of course, during the three days I’m in Texas, my daughter perfects her smile. Sharaun says she’ll smile a smile even friends recognize as one now, and do so in response to them flirting with her. This is awesome to me, as I can now visibly see if I’m making her happy. Makes me sad as hell for being on the road… but happier that I’ll get to come home and see it. I’ll try to get some pictures up as soon as I can, because surely my two readers are dying for them.

Tomorrow is our 2nd customer meeting, more questions and presenting and whatnot… I’m used to the whole dog and pony show now – it’s lost its lustre. Fly home tomorrow afternoon, sleep in my own bed next to my own wife and baby, and then wake up and fly out to Colorado to do it all again. Ah… but Colorado is different, it’s the first time I’ll be presenting the material – and even having written most of it and seen it done twice, I still plan to do a Thursday night rehearsal in front of mirror-Dave, stopwatch running.

Goodnight.

Posted on

fireside romps inside circled multicolored wagons


Sitting in a cramped conference room, the multiplied body heat of 20-some individuals making the air thick, warm, even oppressing. I’ve got my khakis on, matching brown socks with my fancy brown loafers. Nearly too-tight shirt tucked in and cinched with a brown belt. My face is greasy from sitting in this swampy room, and the hotel breakfast buffet has turned into liters and liters of gas bubbling around inside me… shifting through my intestines with audible groans on its way out those khakis I mentioned earlier. I’m uncomfortable, but obnoxiously confident as I feel I’ve been doing a great job addressing customer questions. It’s part of my personality, you know, being overly confident and cocky when I’m hot, and completely defeated and sulking when I’ve been trounced. I’m peak-to-peak with work, but in life I’m more middle of the road… taking things in stride.

Yeah… at the customer, things going rather well, in fact. Austin seems like a nice town, hoping to be able to head out tonight and take some of it in. Sharaun hid some pictures of her and Keaton in my suitcase, with little Post-Its attached. Attached to this picture was a note that said, “Even with these glasses, I can’t find my daddy. Come home soon, we miss you.” I think I actually squealed with glee upon opening my carry-on and finding them last night. Seeing that little girl made me miss her so much, I’m looking forward to my less-than-24hrs hometime between this three-day Texas visit and Friday’s Colorado one more than ever.

Today my brother drove up from Ft. Hood to spend an evening with me. It was a good time: we ate a nice leisurely dinner, bought a pack of Camel Menthols, had some beers, and talked life. Even though he could only stay a few hours, it was great having some time to catch up. I miss my brother, there’s so much I don’t write about there… some things just don’t belong on the blog I suppose. Maybe one day, when all the stigma has gone away, I’ll try and write what I mean – but for now it’s relegated to conversation between close friends and family (where it belongs, I think). I’ve told my brother, in semi-seriousness, that I’d like to author a story about his life thus far – as I think it’d be one hell of a human-interest piece. I guess you’ll just have to wait for the book, eh?

Y’know, in almost every one of my entries here on sounds familiar, I try to reference other entries I’ve written previously. This is somewhat of a strategy on my part, half selfish, half lazy. One the one hand, I have this idea in my head that folks actually click through to my supporting links, and perhaps re-read an entry written long ago, thus leaving the blog with the overall impression that I’ve got a lot more substance than just what I wrote the night prior. On the other hand, referring to old junk saves me writing time, helps me remember how I’ve described things in the past and fall back on them for reference. I guess one good thing about having written so much over so long is that there’s a pretty decent base from which to draw material. I find that I rarely have entirely new ideas…

For some reason, on the plane over I decided to set the iPod on a random mix of all albums by The Silver Mt. Zion, who also go by The Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra & Tra-La-La Band. Y’know, I’ve always known I like their music – but I just realized on this trip just how much… these albums, although likely repulsive to some, are simply outstanding to me. Some kinda crazy stringy beatsy mess, often invoking a feeling of stark loneliness or some kind of “knowing evil,” plotting, perhaps; or fireside romps inside circled multicolored wagons, I have no idea how to describe this shit. All I know is, it’s perfect for traveling… especially when the feeling of being away from home is magnified for a first-timer away from his daughter. Right now, I’m sitting here in the hotel listening to the vocal/piano breakdown that helps close God Bless Our Dead Marines, and it couldn’t be a more poignant soundtrack: When the world is sick, can no one be well? But I dreamt we was all beautiful and strong. I’m telling you, the implied evil, or solitude, or desperation, or whatever it is that gets to me in this music – perfect (much better than the new Radio Dept., a leak which I was eagerly anticipating based on their previous effort, and which I can’t seem to get into).

Goodnight my friends, heading to Houston tomorrow… next post from there.

Posted on

all aboard


Seeing as work-related duties brought sounds familiar to a grinding halt last week, causing me to miss both Thursday and Friday, I figured I better write Monday’s entry on Saturday (which I’m now doing). I’ll be leaving tomorrow (Sunday, for those still not grasping the temporality here) for Texas, the beginning of my US-tour of customers. Like I said in an earlier entry, I’m not actually presneting the material Monday, nor am I presenting Wednesday (the second visit), nay – I don’t present until Friday. However, I’m still sweating the visits as if I were presenting – since I have a feeling I won’t just be the guy in the back of the room. Either way, I don’t really want to leave… not looking forward to being away from the baby, even if for just a few days. Speaking of the baby, this seems like a good spot to link to her freshly-updated gallery: Keaton’s gallery.

The work continues on my MP3 library: I’ve established a process that works well to ensure all the new stuff I rip/get is up to standards – normalizing them to 89dB with MP3Gain and importing album art using the aptly named Album Cover Art Downloader. The album art application is actually outstanding, as you can take any image you can find online and simply drag if from a webpage onto an album. This means that pesky albums like bootlegs and obscure releases can be manually tagged with artwork by simply googling and dragging. As part of the my library improvement, I moved all songs off my iPod (using SharePod, because *#&^$#*!! iTunes only sees the iPod about 20% of the time, on good days), normalized them, added artwork to them all, and then put them back on. A little reorganization with the help of Tag & Rename and the Godfather, and my tunes are now better off than they’ve ever been. Time to backup the RAID array… just in case.

While waiting countless hours while my music library was tweaking, I decided to pop in the Neverending Story DVD Sharaun bought for me months back. I never realized how damn awesome the soundtrack to that film is. It’s one thing to have a radical fantasy story with flying dog-monsters and super-hot chilld empresses… but to have a kickass soundtrack on top of it is almost too good to be true. Sounding like the inspiration for everything M83’s recently put on wax, the backing music paints a fantasy soundscape that’s unmistakably 80s with it’s flat, hollow digital percussion and synthesizer. I need to get that crap on the iPod, it’s freakin’ timeless I tell ya… timeless.

Well, that brings us to a close my dear friends. Not much substance I’m afraid, but at least you can check out Keaton’s gallery. Until Tuesday…

Posted on

woooork…


Work before work, work at work, and work after work… woooork…

Came home for lunch feeling harried, pushed from a million different angles, tugged on all my corners. But, damn, does it make me productive. Nothing makes me buckle down quite like the fear of public humiliation. Somehow, if I’m working against a deadline, I rarely question my ability to make it – I just adapt to whatever schedule enables me to. I suppose that I’ve never really been so under the gun that I just wasn’t able to make it, so I usually just suck up the extra effort and get it done. I think this is a good quality… although it does make for some stressful cram sessions. It’s just how I work.

Keaton’s been fussy the last couple days, maybe she can sense her dad’s stress levels and is reacting in kind. Sharaun says she’s been squirmy during her meals (or, boob-suckings), and she’s been eating more frequently. Sharaun mentioned this at Keaton’s recent doctor appointment, but the doctor didn’t have much to say – “nothing abnormal,” which I believe is the baby-doctor’s catchall. Either way, it doesn’t seem to be impacting her – doctor says she’s gotten 2″ longer, her head’s gotten some percentage larger in circumference, and she’s nearly a pound heavier. All good signs which apparently put her in the 50th percentile of other babies. That’s my Keaton, middlin’ like her daddy already. This baby is my favorite new toy, I stare and stare and stare…

Work, running me – if I want to be in by 6am I need to call it a night.

Posted on

solace in the shitter


Nothing to write about today, nothing happened – I feel it appropriate to warn you that there won’t be much here today. Fingers to the bone, 6am to 5pm; feeling better for the effort but dreading getting up and doing it all over again tomorrow. I’ve decided that I’m doing 6am days this week, at least until I don’t have to anymore… which, considering next Monday is the debut of the material I’m working, will likely be every single day. Thing is, I don’t even present the material next Monday… in fact, I don’t present it until next Friday – I have the luxury of watching two folks present the thing before I even have to get up and talk to it. That, my friends, will be the biggest bonus – will make things much easier. The only snag in this plan is that the person debuting the presentation Monday isn’t as well-versed in the material as I am, and a good portion of the questions will likely end up being deflected onto me. Even still, I won’t be the one up in front when the tomatoes are loosed – at least not at first.

Sometimes, when this baby cries, I just smile. I’ll pull her little face close and feel her warm breath on my cheek. I don’t know why, but just hearing her “voice” makes me smile. I interpret little gurgles or blurps in her cries as attempted communication: “Dad, my diaper’s wet.” “Dad, I’m tired but I can’t get comfortable.” “Dad, please bounce me, I’m only happy when my head jiggles like jello.” “Dad, where’s your boob?” Sure, I’ll try to console her, sometimes after smiling down at her for a minute or two… but, those screams can pierce at times. The swing’s usually a good bet, if not that then I’ll take her into the bathroom and turn on the exhaust fan. Closed in the tight space with the lights out, the whir of the fan motor reverberates and fills the room with loud white noise – works like a charm. Must look funny, me standing with baby in arm in a dark toilet, exhaust fan humming above.

You guys know what it’s like to write every night (hint: you have to press the “play” button; context here)? I had a friend (and reader) mention once, in jest, of course, that they feel personally affronted when I don’t write. I know it’s a joke, but there is some sense of responsibility that’s been associated with the whole thing. I have no idea how many folks visit the page “daily,” or at some other regular interval – but I like to think I write for them. Those that log on and read every week or so, sure, I write for you too – but I wouldn’t bang out an entry every evening on schedule if I didn’t think someone was wanting new content on a daily basis. I like to write funny stuff, or interesting stuff, but sometimes I just write boring stuff: stuff to make paragraphs and fill boxes. Tonight is one of those nights.

All of my entries are pretentious and self-serving, aren’t they? Sucks. I have to go to bed now, I want more sleep than last night. Until tomorrow, friends.