Category: grindstone

All about breadwinning.

Posted on

crappy bureaucratic machine

These little piggies... got crushed by an anvil, or something.
Inching closer to Friday, this week maintains its steady crawl. It’s ’round about nine and I’m watching some TiVo’d Andy Griffith. I didn’t do a thing tonight, fell asleep on the couch shortly after getting home from work. Didn’t work on the witch, didn’t shave, didn’t do anything.

Guys. Really. I mean, I thought I was finally done giving this presentation. For a week in Taiwan I parroted this stuff, and at two conferences already before that. I flew to Houston to present it, I presented it over the phone. I can do it blindfolded, on one foot, while whistling. I can do it in pig latin with no slides, I can recite it backwards while jumping through fire, I can roll out of bed and give the whole thing completely straight-faced in nothing but my skivvies. Please, please, don’t make me fight traffic over to the Bay to give it two more times… I might collapse. Oh lord…

Everyone is saying I’m guilty of fraud, just because I added a few letters to a doctor’s evaluation of Sharaun’s knee. OK, OK, I’ll back up and start from the beginning. Sunday, Sharaun tweaked her knee while playing soccer. At first she thought it was OK, but later that night it had swollen pretty bad was really hurting her. Bad enough that we drove to a friend’s to borrow some crutches so she could better get around at work the next day.

Anyway, since she can’t really make phone calls from work, I called the next day to try and get her an appointment at our doctor. Turns out there wasn’t anything until Thursday that she could manage to make it to. Since she was/is in pretty bad shape, I asked if there was anything else we could do. I told them that I was pretty sure she’d need to see a specialist, and that we just wanted to get a referral so she could do that. Our doctor’s office suggested she go to an “urgent care” clinic and get checked out, that way his referral to a specialist would be good enough for insurance, and she wouldn’t have to wait until Thursday. So, Monday night we spend roughly three hours at the urgent care place, where the doctor’s assessment was that she’d need an MRI and further evaluation. Before leaving, we got carbons of some paperwork with his assessment which we figured, according to what I’d been told on the phone earlier that day, would satisfy insurance’s requirement for seeing a “primary care” physician before being referred to a specialist.

So, the next day I called the our normal doctor back and relayed what the urgent care place said about Sharaun needing an MRI. However, this time I got a different story. For an MRI, she’d have to come in and be seen at the doctor – which is exactly what we were told we’d be avoiding by going to the urgent care. So I explained what I’d been told the day before, and that we’d spent three hours at the stupid urgent care, and blah, blah. Finally, the nurse relented somewhat and said that if the paperwork from the urgent care doctor stated she needed an MRI, I could fax it to them and they’d in turn fax it to the insurance for approval – bypassing another appointment. Awesome, I got the fax number and pulled out the paperwork from the urgent care.

Now, guess what y’all? That crap-doctor at urgent care didn’t even write the word “MRI” on this little paper. I mean, there’s all sorts of stuff on here – but the key statement says, “You have an internal injury to L knee, needs further eval.” He even captured such astute observations like, “… walks with limp..” and, “… swelling.” Great. Now I have no proof that this quack ever recommended an MRI, and Sharaun’s gonna have to go in for another appointment before she can see a specialist. So, here’s what I did:

Easy right? I just added the word “MRI” in parentheses after his “… needs further eval.” statement. I didn’t even bother to try and match his script, or the color of his ink. I didn’t even really think about it. The doctor wanted to see MRI, so I put MRI. I faxed it all over and am awaiting the response from whatever triad of governing bodies it requires to get a damn specialist referral through insurance. Crappy bureaucratic machine.

I’m spent.. I have nothing more. Dave out.

Posted on

dustin’ smokies the whole way

Sorry if this is your kid.
Just got back from the “urgent care” clinic with Sharaun, but let me tell you, there ain’t nothing urgent about it. Those people move with all the urgency of an turtle. Anyway, Dr. Professional at the clinic diagnosed her injured knee as.. an injured knee, and said she should get an MRI. Mission accomplished though, she got a quick referral to a specialist who’ll really be able to figure out what’s wrong.

Saturday Kristi walked into my place and held out a couple smallish paperback books, offering them to me. Looking at them, they appeared to be graphic novels. Since I’m not really a comic book person, I didn’t know what to think. Turns out these books, called Maus Parts I & II, are part graphic-novel, part memoir, and part history lesson – all about the life of the author’s father, a Holocaust survivor. Finished the first one tonight while the doctors at the clinic must have been using up all their urgency on some other patients, and I’m anxious to start Part II. Interesting stuff and easy reading.

Sitting here listening to some A Silver Mt. Zion, frantic apocalyptic violin and percussion sounding really rad right now. Sometimes I just need to kick back and get my instrumental on, y’know? Words can wreck a song sometimes anyway, and instrumental tunes make for great thinking and working soundtracks. You know, blaring in the headphones as you pound away on the keyboard for your paycheck? Cranking out PowerPoint presentations to give the flashy-graphic addicts their daily fix of 38pt drop-shadowed Arial text and multicolored block diagrams. Wait. Why didn’t I go to trucking school again? I could be smugglin’ an 18-wheeler full of bootleg beer across statelines right now, dustin’ smokies the whole way.

Anyway, I guess it’s time for bed. So until then, when the next the world hears from me will be the customary sounding of my “morning claxon” as I trumpet my own response to the alarm clock’s horrid beeping.

Dave out.

Posted on

balls y’alls, balls

On the move again.
Balls y’alls, balls. Once again I’m sitting through this 5hr presentation. Man, I thought I’d seen the last of it back in Taiwan, but here we go again. I mean, for real, I know this thing by heart now – even the parts that aren’t mine. It’s like we’re the cast of Cats or something, can you imagine how bored they must’ve been of performing that play? I bet any cast member could fill in for any other cast member. I mean, I could speak to everyone’s stuff – but I probably couldn’t answer all the questions like they can. Really, I don’t even care. My stuff is at the very end, so I’m gonna blow through it and get out of here.

Well, everyone I know back in my hometown in Florida has abandoned ship and is heading for higher ground. (Everyone is, or everyone are? Is, right?). Anyway, there were mandatory evacuations in Rockledge, my old stomping grounds, even though the only people the cops were actually forcing out were mobile home owners. I suppose that’s good, God has demonstrated again and again his opinion of mobile homes. He hates them so bad, he’s made them tornado and hurricane magnets – poor mobile home people. But really, if it’s in the definition of your house’s name that it can be easily moved – you might’ve thought you’d have some idea. Anyway, to all my people in Florida who may be reading this entry huddled by candlelight in an emergency shelter – good luck and hope you and your stuff stays put and stays dry.

I’m not too excited about flying right now, another 3hr+ flight to Portland. We had a 7am meeting this morning, and since my head is still on PST time it was really a 5am meeting to me. Waking up at 6am (4am in my brain) after staying up to watch Kerry’s midnight RNC rebuttal was tough, so I’m pretty freaking tired – so I plan on sleeping the entire flight. Having to wear dress shoes today is not helping my busted big toes either, and they are throbbing in my shoes now as I type. As soon as I get outta here I’m throwing these clunkers in the trunk and putting on my flip flops. Easier to get through airport security that way too, since I’m obviously not hiding any bombs in my Reefs.

I was thinking about how seasoned I am now to the whole traveling thing. Back in college, I remember getting on a plane in Florida to go to my job interview in California – and only vaguely remembering how to do the whole thing. I think the last time I’d flown before that was when the whole family moved to Florida in the first place., twelve years prior Now it’s all familiar, the security check-in, the terminals and baggage claim, everything. While I’m far from what I’d consider a frequent traveler (comparing myself to some others I work with), I do travel enough that I consider myself and airport and rental car veteran. Give me a hotel room, a company meal-ticket, and some frequent flier miles – and I’m good to go.

Sometimes, when I’m in a crowded pace, I like to stare around at the ladies and play a game in my head called “who would I do?” It’s a pretty simple game really, I just look around and pick out girls who, if it came down to it, I would hump. Now, since the game is all hypothetical, it’s not a problem being married or anything – and it’s fair to assume, for the purpose of the game, that all girls who I chose to do would indeed give in to my attentions. So, right now, at the George Bush International Airport in Houston, Texas, terminal C37 – there are about eight girls around me who qualify. I mean, that girl over there with the long brown hair: I would totally do her. Oh, and this older-berry of indeterminate ethnic origin sitting to my right: totally do her. Blondie in the pinstriped pants across the aisle here: put her on the list, ’cause I’m totally doin’ her. Anyway, you get the picture.

Guess that’s it for a Friday night, I’m sure no one’ll be reading this until Monday morning anyway… but at least I only missed a day this week. Dave out.

Posted on

untucked

Open me.
I’m gonna try my best to not let this week’s travel keep me from writing, but if there’s nothing going on worth writing about then I don’t mind skipping a day. I think that could be a potential pitfall actually, forcing myself to write every day regardless of whether or not there’s something to write about. Because Thursday I leave early for Houston, I’m attempting this Wednesday double-up to get myself ahead on the days. I’ll spend Friday once again up in front of customers, wearing my best “I know what I’m talking about” face. Pull some ill-fitting khakis over my ass, tuck in a nice blue dress shirt, brush my hair and fill my breast pocket with business cards. The portrait of a corporate slave, bowing and scraping for a paycheck and some stock options. Why couldn’t I have been a cowboy or rock star?

I’m sitting in a hotel in Houston, belly full of beer, steak, garlic-mashed potatoes, and some kinda Jack Daniels ice cream. Business travel is at least nice for the meals. The flight wasn’t bad, and I got a lot done this morning before leaving. Y’know those ultra-productive days where everything seems to fall into place? When you’re able to get everything that you wanted to done and more? I love those days. Tomorrow it’s back to work, but for now I can sit here and watch W address the RNC. Then I guess Kerry is gonna talk in Ohio, it’s a fun-filled night for politicos.

Last night the Killers at the Boardwalk was a good show. As usual, the tiny Boardwalk was packed wall-to-wall with the cream of Sacramento’s emo-youth. Tousled, jet-black haired, lanky youngsters with dark thick-rimmed glasses and untucked concert tees. Doing their best to wear their angst and societal aloofness on their sleeves for all to see. Girls decked in once-again-cool 1985 makeup and hairstyles, with plenty of pink and poof. And me, a guy in his late twenties. A guy wearing jean shorts bought as Sams, Reef flip-flops, and a red and blue striped preppie shirt, untucked. With a brown corduroy Nike hat covering my thinning hair, I realize I’m fast becoming the outsider at these shows – and I like it. I wanna be that old guy my friends I and I saw at the Ween concert back in 1994, the one we laughed at because he wasn’t wearing what we were wearing and looked so out of place. The one who just didn’t care and came out to hear some good tunes. What am I talking about?

I’m not writing anymore, Dave out.

Posted on

do i have to do this again?

Shea-shea!!
Tokyo. Again. And again I’m just passing through, still haven’t been able to see Japan. This past week, I was originally booked for Japan, but plans changed and I stayed in Taiwan instead. Anyway, that’s all old news now, history. I’m on my way home, finally, after what seemed like a month-long two weeks. Really, I got to the point where I welcomed the hotel bed as my own each evening. A spotty week for writing, or maybe I should say posting – because I actually wrote quite a bit. A couple paragraphs from Tuesday, some crazy outlines for an intended Wednesday entry, and last night’s famous unfinished Thursday-night-in-the-bar entry. Anyway, I’m gonna make the verb-tense workable and go ahead and publish most of it riiiight about? now.

[Written Tuesday afternoon in some hotel conference room, after giving my initial presentation to about 150 Chinese dudes.]

Damn. Nothing can humble me like giving what I feel to be a bad presentation. I mean, I just got off the stage and I think I stunk it up royal. I blanked on a couple of really easy questions and just didn’t have confidence in my knowledge of the material. Man I wanted to run out of that room. What’s worse: I’ve got a totally different one to give in another hour, one I’m equally undereducated on. Ugh, right now my only solace is thinking that I can head back to the hotel in shame and take a nap if I want. I’m sure from the audience it didn’t look that bad, but knowing that I was just reading from the material with no knowledge to back me up sure made me feel crappy. What a terrible feeling, and embarrassing too. I’m ready to leave Taiwan again.

It’s funny how a bad experience like that can make me want to crawl into a cave and hibernate (read: lock myself in the hotel room with the “do not disturb” light on and lounge around in my boxers). It’s my laziness kicking in I guess. To make matters worse, I had an 11pm conference call last night and didn’t get to bed until 1am, only to wake up in four hours for another call at 5am, then it was straight from that call to here. Now I’m dangerously tired and trying to stay awake for my next class. Funny thing is, whenever I do come off a less-than-stellar speaking engagement, I always question why I like doing it at all. I mean, not putting myself up there means never having to be embarrassed. Talk about a quitter attitude huh? But, I know I’ll do it again, because I like to – and I like it most when things go well and I come off feeling like a champ. I suppose every one has a “stinker” once in a while, presentation or not. (Note from the future: The next presentation and the Q&A sessions that followed in the days after went superb, more than making up for the self-loathing my initial bomb instilled in me.)

Another editors note: Wanna see my “free writing” notes for that last paragraph? Oh, what? You do? OK, here it is: funy, performp poorly and start questioning how much i like it. lazy, from youth, etc. Wow, exciting huh? I mean, it’s these sneak-peeks into the behind-the-scenes workings of the blog that just set me apart from other writers. At least, to me I mean.

[Written late Thursday night from a corner table in Henry’s Bar at the Sherwood Taipei, three or four bloody marys into a night getting tight on spiked ‘mater juice.]

Sitting here in a dark corner, cigar smoke and Mandarin fill the air. I’m looking out across the dim room to the bar – where the bartender is making me a new bloody mary to replace the one I just finished. Her name is Tracy, but in Chinese it’s something longer and is drawn with a lot of little sticks and boxes that look like lanterns and houses and tic-tac-toe games. I know because she wrote it down for me on one of the paper coasters she brings the drinks on. She’s trying to teach me more Chinese before I leave, but the bar is busy and she can only come talk ever once in a while. So far I can recognize about twenty characters, and understand a few words in every sentence. Next time I come, she says, she promises to speak better English if I promise to speak better Chinese. Deal.

Anthony and Pat were here, but went out to the night market to see the people drink snake’s blood. In all my time in Taipei, I’ve never had the urge to go to snake alley. It sounds interesting as all get-out, but the locals look down on the place as dirty and giving them a bad name. Last night I went to karaoke with two girls that work at this bar. Tracy actually changed her night off to go, all the bar staff knows it and they give me funny looks and talk about me in Chinese (I can recognize my name, “Da-Way,” in Mandarin). A buddy of mine from the states who speaks Mandarin and is also friendly with the bar staff hooked up the outage, and they came and grabbed me from my second-favorite bar down the street and whisked me away to karaoke. Everyone knows I have a crush on Tracy so it was all a big joke. We ended up having a blast. The Taiwan beer and milk-tea flowed freely and my head didn’t hit the pillow until 3am.

So tonight I’m practicing my words again on the drink coasters: fire, human, door, time, ask, month, temple, big, sun, house, one, two, three, four, understanding, ten, and love. Later I’ll end up hanging at the bar until they close at 1pm, drinking more bloody marys and finally winding things down with some milk-tea-made-with-love. Time to hit the hay, and what do you know it’s 4am again somehow. Taipei was fun this time, a bad presentation, a good presentation, two nights of karaoke, and a handful of nights where one more hour out would’ve meant seeing a sunrise.

I’m done, I’m outta here. Until next week when writing once again begins on US soil, Dave out.

Posted on

take that Dodongo

Back in the F-L-A!
First off, thanks, readers, for the comments on yesterday’s blog. Made the effort all the more worth it.

Apparently all this rain the past few days is because there’s a typhoon churning off the coast of the island. I thought I left my days of tropical-weather-tracking behind me when I moved out of Florida. It’s OK though, it seems it’ll pass us by doing nothing more than giving a good storm or two. I mean, with the humidity here it might as well be raining everyday anyway. The eye is set to pass just offshore of Northern Taiwan, which is right where we are. Anyway, kinda nice to have a Florida-esque thunderstorm raging vainly against my open hotel window while I sleep – I’ve always dug being inside while the elements thrash outside, somehow gives me feeling of power or whatever. Like, try as is may, it can’t put forth enough effort to overcome the effort that man put into the shelter which houses me. We win: human engineering 1, weather 0. I say that now, when this week alone the earth and sky have so far teamed against me in both an earthquake and now typhoon. Damn, does Taiwan have volcanoes?

My trip to Taiwan so far has been filled with omen. OK, not “filled” with omen, but at least containing some omen. I’m not sure what it all means yet, but if one of you four who read this are armchair numerologists – get back to me with your interpretation. See, when I checked into the hotel – I got room number 1111. Now, I thought that was kinda cool – and immediately came up with some good jokes about how I’m all “number one” or something. Since then, the number one is all over my trip. Every time I take a cab ride, the total is spot on 100NT? each time for four separate rides. When we go to customers to present, we sometimes get temp badges. I didn’t check on the 1st day, but yesterday my badge was number 111. Is that crazy or what? I checked my flights back, and none of them are all ones – so I take that to either mean they will end in a fiery crash into the sea, or something? at least.

I skipped dinner last night, unintentionally, heading up to my room for a “nap” after a Boddington’s with the boys in the hotel bar. I hit the bed around 8pm and didn’t wake up until the typhoon loudly hurled rain into my window around 1am. I missed a phone call and a knock on the door, I think the 4am bedtime the night prior really sapped me. Anyway, I ended up getting about eleven hours of sleep – which I think is the main contributing factor to how energized and well I feel now. I even managed to wake up early enough to give myself some time to play a little Zelda64 before breakfast (I’m so freakin’ addicted, I totally just liberated Dodongo’s cave on Death Mountain and I’m kicking butt – I’m actually looking forward to a possible 10hr of uninterrupted playing time on the flight home). We were slated to head to some club which is infamous for it’s Wednesday night “ladies night,” but I sacked it instead. I’ll be here next Wednesday anyway, so I can scam the Taiwan-tang then if need be.

I gotta say, I look pretty awesome in some dress clothes. I mean, I’m still fat and whatnot – but I clean up OK. This morning I made sure to ask Sharaun if my intended shirt/pants combo was legal: blue shirt and black pants. It seems it would be legal, but dependant on what shade of blue the shirt was. I described it as light to medium blue, at which point she blessed the ensemble (seems dark blue and black won’t work). So anyway, I’m sitting here, looking dapper as all get out, ready to wow these dudes with my public speaking skillz. It’s good to be able to talk to Sharaun each morning and run my planned outfit by her, since apparently I’m totally incapable of knowing what “goes.” It’s OK though, because with her to rebuff me as an “idiot” for even suggesting dark blue and black, I don’t have to worry about it.

I’m getting tired of presenting the same thing over and over again. Tired of the forced laughs and smiles and feigned interest in things. At least next week I’m presenting some different material to a semi-different audience, maybe that’ll be enough to keep me awake. At our first meeting today, our audience sucked – eight presenters to three attendees. Three attnedees? For most of the previous sessions we had a pretty good turnout. Sometimes I wish I could just chill at the hotel or bum around the city instead. Owell.

If you guys wanna call Hammertime, the featured guest of yesterday’s entry, her international number (I think all Taiwanese hookers who are worth their salt have international numbers) is: 886955863197. ‘Night y’allz, Dave out.

Posted on

waiting for the bus to take me to college

Spacey man, far out.
Even though Skinny Puppy’s Rabies may be one of the worst examples of “music” ever, it’s a like opening a musical time capsule for me. Listening tho this album brings my clad-in-black high school days rushing back. Not that I feel into the whole industrial/goth thing for too long, I’d say maybe six months top – but there was a time I lived for Frontline Assembly, Ministry, Skinny Puppy, and the like. So listening to it now as a byproduct of my ripping project is fun enough. I’m mad right now because I can tell I’m going to have to stop writing at some point and go pee, and I hate interrupting my writing – the urge goes stale really quick. Chances are I’ll come back to the page and deem everything I’ve written already “crap.” Owell.

I came home from work today fully intending to head into the backyard and fill in the ditches that comprise my recently-finished sprinkler system. However, it was so balls-hot today, I decided a nap on the couch would be far more rewarding. It’s OK, I worked quite a bit this weekend – the pavers for the porch were delivered last week and I started laying them. Seeing the combination of the finished retaining wall and newly-added mulch, the trees, and a little imagination for a finished paver-porch and green grass, I’m getting really excited. I actually think the backyard is gonna look better than average when I’m done. To be able to say that I did it 100%, from planning to labor to maintenance – will be a source of extreme pride for me. Considering I learned most of the skills on my feet as I went along, I think I’ve earned that pride.

Listening to the “new” Nick Drake album, not new really – but some of the mixes are new and even a few tracks are new to me. He’s got one of the most brilliant voices, and his writing is awesome. To think I “discovered” him back in college from a VW commercial or something (remember, they were all headed to a party – got there, and decided that driving with the moonroof down was better than the party?). Anyway, fate would have it that I “discovered” Nick Drake and Elliot Smith around the same time – so they’ve kinda “melded” in my mind as period artists. Reminding me of hot, rainy, summer afternoons in Florida, waiting for the bus to take me to college. Good memories, good music.

The Taiwan trip is sneaking up on me, and I haven’t really been preparing that much in terms of getting ready for my presentations. I need to set up some meetings at work to “pick some brains” and make sure I have the right canon of knowledge and current marketing party-line when I get up there. I’m not worried about the customer visits, but the industry training event is a little different, as I want to do a good job and not just be another white dude up there blathering. While I’m excited about the trip (I always am), I expect the last minute “ugh, I don’t even feel like going” feeling to set in as the date draws near (it always does). I always end up having a blast though, and each time I teach or present in front of an audience my confidence in doing so improves vastly. Crap thing this time: I miss Sharaun’s birthday while I’m over there. Yeah, that really bums me out, but what can ya do?

Doodoo time.

Much better. An odd out-of-cycle dump, but enjoyable nonetheless.

Drifting off into the don’t-wanna-write-anymore ether, Joy Division’s Unknown Pleasures lulling me along. Too long staring at the screen writing nothing means it’s time to call it quits. Until tomorrow, Dave out.