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the first rule of boondoggle club

Got it? Good!
Sitting in a beanbag on the showcase floor, it’s Tuesday in Taiwan. And before I begin, I’m going to get right down to it – honest-style. This is probably the most purposeless trip I’ve ever made to this island. I mean, I love Taiwan. I love the people, the food, the work environment – but for real I have no reason to be here this week. It’s not so bad, I’ve been hobnobbing and palm-greasing and breeze-shooting, all of which are quite enjoyable to a closet socialite such as myself. I’ve even been spending my work days on the floor at a large conference, answering questions and smiling to strangers. So, there’s a lot I could write about if I needed to justify this trip – but between you and I, I’m using it more as face-time than anything. But, where is my mind? Afterall, the first rule of boondoggle club is: you do not talk about boondoggle club.

Now then, I didn’t write yesterday because I just didn’t have much to say. Oh, sure, I hung out in the hotel bar, ate great food, and even went karaoke-ing with the standard Taipei crew, but I’ve written about all that before… so when I sat down to write about it again, I thought better of it. The trip out here was nice, got bumped to business class on the Tokyo-to-Taipei leg of the flight, so I got to fly in style for a few hours of the long journey. The only thing bad about being here for only a few days is that there’s not enough time to hang out with the people I want to see. It’s small solace that I’ll be right back here again in a short two weeks… I’ve got the standard mixed feelings about that trip too. I am, however, really excited about bringing Sharaun out… I’m hoping she likes this place as much as I do.

I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve written. Maybe because it’s already Tuesday night here, I feel like I’ve missed one more day than I really have. Do you guys know how hard it is to come up with new things to write about? I mean, here I am, writing again about not having things to write about – that should give you some indication. For a while, writing about not writing works OK, but soon you get tired of it. So, rather than follow my drive and make a post every day, regardless of it’s merit – I’ve pretty much adopted a policy of: no substance, no entry. I know, this entry is questionable at best, but there’s some stuff in here that might be worth it.

On the plane over here, I was (for some reason) thinking about money. Nowadays, people never even seen most of the money they have and use. I mean, there is no “hard” money anymore. Our paychecks go into the bank electronically, and I trust some computer to sum up what’s in my account. I never see half the money I spend. I hand someone a piece of plastic and trust some computer to subtract it from my balance. All my money is nothing more than a number on a computer screen. My bills are automatically debited from my account, subtracted right off that phantom total. It’s kind of scary when I think about it. Makes me somewhat understand the stories I’ve heard about old-timers not trusting banks, and keeping lockboxes full of cash under their bed or something.

Well, another day comes to a close here in Taiwan. Goodnight.

Posted on

catharsis

And now, the undercard you've all been waiting for.
Up late on Thursday night slash Friday morning. Working on getting acclimated for Taiweezy. By the time you read this, I should be airborne and hopefully asleep (or at least engrossed in a sweet game of Zelda64 on my laptop). If the urge hits you, you can track my progress across the peaceful sea. And I’m off traveling again, St. Christopher be with me. And now it gets personal.

Let me tell you something. As a man, I unequivocally believe that women sometimes desire to argue. I don’t know if this is a subconscious desire, or something that is premeditated, but I am 100% convinced, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that women will on occasion not rest until they’ve engaged in an argument. Common indicators that one of these destined-arguments is about to take place include irrational criticism, blatant button-pushing, and the raising of recurring-theme fight topics. Recurring-theme fight topics are flashpoints, words or ideas that have been so well previously established as argument fodder that the mere mention of them can ratchet an argument up a full two notches. I have also found that there is little in the way of escape when a fight is a woman’s goal. Short of up and leaving the general area, you better be ready to argue. Oh, you can try to ignore it – but you will be sucked in. Before you know it, you’ll be arguing.

If you can’t tell, Sharaun and I had a fight tonight. No, we didn’t come to blows, I’m just using the word “fight” to denote something bigger than your garden-variety disagreement. Let me expand on that a bit. I’ve been married for almost five years now, and over that time I’ve been through a lot of spats, disagreements, and tiffs. Fights though, those are rarer. I think all couples will at some time bicker and argue, but true fighting is different. Arguments and disagreements can be settled, can be “won.” No one wins a fight, a fight sucks for both people; trying to “win” a fight is futile. I don’t know how it is with other couples, but for Sharaun and I, if you break it down, we really only have a limited amount of things we actually “fight” over. For instance, Sharaun’s short-list of things that she uses against me in fights goes something like this:

1. You don’t pay me enough attention.
2. You don’t do anything you don’t want to do.

Likewise, mine for her would go something like this:

1. You don’t contribute enough domestically.
2. You talk down to me.

Oh sure, they rarely take on the boiled-down form I’ve presented them in here – but if you strip away the situational stuff those are at the heart nearly every time. I could go into paragraph after paragraph on the various incarnations the above short lists can take… things like, “You spend too much time on the computer,” or, “Why are your underwear in the middle of the living room?” And, I’ve come to realize that these are sure-fire fight-starters for one reason: they are truths. The reason that they are the cornerstones to all our arguments is because they are inescapable aspects of our personalties. More than just a difference of opinion, they are the 180 degree out-of-phase destructive waves created when two unique individuals operate together as one couple. If a fight is desired, they will always be there to incite one.

And that’s what it’s all about folks, making it work. Sure there will be arguments, disagreements, even fights – but they damn well better be insignificant when compared to the otherwise bonding elements of a relationship. Relationships work when each person can: work to minimize the aspects of their personality that are their mate’s short-list, as well as work to be less bothered by the things on the short list they’ve created for their mate. Or, in layman’s terms: Work harder on your faults and be more accepting of your mate’s.

Fights suck, but they end.

My mom wrote me Wednesday to say that she liked my blog that day, and that it was sad. Yeah, I liked it too… and it was sad.

Goodnight.

Posted on

a bush and a peek

It's wordplay.
Sometimes I wonder when you actually become an “adult.” I still look in the mirror and insist that the face staring back isn’t really all that different than the one I knew in high school. But it most certainly is different. I’m a year and a half away from thirty, earn my own keep, and own things like a house and car. I’m losing hair and gaining weight. Now, maybe I don’t see that face in the mirror because I don’t feel like that face in the mirror. While I’m not quite at the point where I worry about falling off the toilet and breaking a hip, I guess I am older than that kid from high school… perhaps even an “adult.” I’ve walked through the mall before and wondered, as I pass the other people, which of them look at me and think “kid,” and which think “grown-up.” Surely older folks recognize me for the relatively spry young’n I am, but just as surely the teenagers in baggy pants peg me as old and out of touch. I mean, a collared shirt tucked into denim shorts… with a belt?

When we used to live in L.A., there was a girl who lived across the street from us. I’m not sure who she lived with, but it was a woman – stepmother, mother, I don’t know. I was young, couldn’t have been more than five years old because that’s when we moved. This girl, Naomi, wasn’t treated well by the woman she lived with. Frequently, Naomi was not allowed in the house. In fact, my most vivid memories of her are freeze-frame scenes of her sitting out on the stoop… doing nothing, just sitting. Because she was so often not allowed in the house, she would sometimes come over to our place at odd hours to ask if my brother or I could play. Early-early in the morning, late-late at night; I didn’t really understand it until later on when I figured she was just locked out and probably bored or scared or both. I don’t think I really understood any of it at the time, I just played with her like she was any other kid on the block. Kids are beautiful that way. Class, station, economics, you’re blind to them all at five years old. In fact, overhearing my parents expressing sympathy for the girl was my only indication that anything was different than my situation.

I don’t think I’ve ever talked about this to anyone before, so it makes its debut right here on the blog, direct from wherever it’s been locked away in my head for all these years. One day I remember Naomi asking me if she could use the bathroom at our house. I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure this little girl actually spent more than a few nights sleeping on that porch stoop outside… barred from entering the house. Considering that, what other option did she have? She had to use the bathroom somewhere. So, we struck a deal. Naomi could use the large bush in our backyard as her personal bathroom, provided she let my brother and I watch. I know people, I can feel you all recoiling in disgust, I know. Remember, I’m five years old. I’m not thinking about how exploited this little girl already is, or how humiliating of a situation we were putting her in, I’m just thinking I’d like to see how a girl poops and pees. So, we watched. She pooped, she peed, and we watched, fascinated. I don’t remember, but I’m pretty sure this didn’t happen more than a couple times total. Thinking about it today, I don’t feel much else but sad. I don’t feel guilty, too young to hold myself very accountable… just sad. Sad for that girl having to poop under a bush in a neighbor’s backyard while curious little boys watched from the wings, heads pressed to the ground to get a better view.

We moved away from that area when I was five years old, and it didn’t take me long to forget about Naomi. Years later, I remember being back in town with my parents, driving down our old street. I couldn’t have been more then ten or eleven at the time, and I can remember my folks commenting on how the place had changed. Then we saw her. A girl about my age, sitting on a porch. It took a minute before it hit us, but eventually someone, I think my mom, said, “Oh my God, that’s Naomi.” Five+ years later and still out on the porch. Sometimes I wonder whatever happened to that girl. Back when I was a kid, I can actually remember going in her house once. No details, just a still-frame image of a messy rug and coffee table. Can you imagine growing up on a porch? Just feet from where you should be – inside with your parents. Hey Naomi, if you’re out there, I just wanted to say “I’m sorry” for watching you poop. I’m pretty sure that at least my mom had an idea about what was going on. I can remember her being suspicious. Had I been able to understand…

Next paragraph. Goodnight.

Posted on

i still got it

FM 21-76.
Today I spent $45 on a tank of gas. That’s a lot of money for gas, right?

Four days and I’ll be back in one of those richly outfitted hotel rooms, looking out over the dirty sprawl of downtown Taipei. I sometimes get this crazy fear that Taiwan will just up and declare its independence during one of my trips. I imagine myself sitting in a cubicle while the Red Army swoops down on that tiny island to crush the rebel uprising. The fantasy goes on… usually ending with me riding on top of a tank, policing the streets. One thing about work is… thing can change pretty rapidly. When I wrote that sentence last night, I was preparing for a two-week trip. Today, I learned that, due to some circumstances beyond my control, the nature of the trip had changed. Turns out I’ll only be gone for a week, still leaving this Friday. Then, I’ll come back for two weeks, only to leave for Taiwan again in early May. The May trip will be the longest ever, clocking in at three weeks. However, since Sharaun is off-track in May, she finally gets to accompany me and experience Taipei. To me, there couldn’t have been a better change of plans. I’m hoping my work schedule while there is flexible enough to allow us some decent “exploring.” And, I feel comfortable enough in the city to act as a sort of “tour guide” for her while she’s there. Awesome.

As you may have noticed, I didn’t really break any new ground with respect to my post-frequency this week. Leading off with a no-show doesn’t really set a good precedent. But… I’ve kind of accepted that I’m just in a slump right now. Whatever the reason… maybe I’m just not putting myself out there and hunting up good stuff to write about, I dunno. I mean, last week’s entries don’t amount to much more than the birthday present story fluffed up with a bunch of rambling. Lately, I’ve warmed up a little bit to the notion of “talking” about my writing. Before, I had this unspoken rule that I didn’t like talking about the blog in person. I mean, the blog is self-serving enough, but making it a topic of discussion was too self-indulgent even for me. Lately though, I’ve opened up a bit and don’t shoot people down as quickly when they bring it up. After all, when it comes down to it, I am proud of it. If half the reason I write is for me, the other half is surely so that people will read it. Anyway, talking about my writing doesn’t put me off as much as it used to. Although I still get surprised when I find out, through some twisted grapevine, that there’s someone reading this who I wasn’t aware of. Where was I going with this?

I’ve been having escapist fantasies again lately. Y’know, researching survival techniques online in case I do decide to abandon the modern world for a tent in a national forest or something. Tonight I learned how to dig a latrine. When I was younger, I can remember being fascinated with a secondhand copy of the Army Field Survival manual. I’ve always had a fascination with self-sufficiency… and I like to think I could handle myself on my own. Now, I’m not saying I actually could… but I like to think I could. I read that Field Manual over and over again, the detailed pictures and diagrams of shelters and snares had me in a trance. I can remember trying to commit things to memory: how to make a fishhook out of thorns, how to smoke meat to preserve it, how to build a lean-to. Just like I will never forget learning from a Hardy Boys book that you can escape your bonds if you flex your muscles while being tied up. Stuff like that has always stuck with me. I think it’d be totally fun to do one of those survivalist training “adventure” things… where they take you out into the wilderness and teach you how to live off the land. Right?

With all the pope-inspired news of late, I somehow stumbled across this vintage link from CNN – I’d never seen it before, but man… hilarious. Goodnight.

Posted on

dinner with the family

Outbound once again.
So… the night before last was pretty awesome. I got a call from Sharaun on the way home from work, and in pretty short order we both agreed that we didn’t feel like doing dinner at home. We ended up having an awesome dinner for two at a local Indian joint. Sometimes, even though we’re together most every night – we don’t seem to get enough time to talk about random things. And that one-on-one dinner really hit the spot. We talked about work, about not-work, about summer plans, about all sorts of stuff. Then we made a joint trip to Wal Mart so I could pick up some socks. Afterward, I helped teach her the basics of non-linear equations so she can tutor a former student of hers. Man, I really enjoy algebra. Especially explaining it to other people. I think I could easily be a math teacher, really. I was talking slope-intercept form like it was taught to me yesterday. Anyway, it was a really enjoyable evening with my wife… we need to do that more often.

I mentioned that new Radiohead track yesterday. Hearing it just got me all Radiohead’d up… and I started listening to Kid A tonight. Man, that album is so outstanding. I can remember getting it like it was yesterday, in fact – I think I even wrote about it way back then. August 28th, 2000: The real new album I am waiting for is Kid A, Radiohead’s 4th – coming in early October. I know it’s going to be awesome. I am hoping to download [it] before it’s released – the promos should start showing up on Napster soon hopefully. September 11th, 2000: Listening to Radiohead’s new one, Kid A. It’s not out for a month yet – Napster. Awww yeah… that album made a huge impression on me. I can remember being the new kid on the block at work. I sat two floors up from the team they put me on. No one even knew I existed. I got no e-mails, no calls, no nothing. For the 1st six months I’d come in at nine and go home at three. I can remember feeling guilty for taking a paycheck for sitting around, listening to music, reading webpages, and writing. Kid A just worked so well with that lonely, out-of-my-element thing that was the first few months of my employment.

Made reservations for my happening-way-too-soon trip to Taiwan tonight. I actually realized that I’m departing US soil in a mere week’s time, and had yet to book flights and hotel. Not wanting to pay the dreaded less than one week booking premium, Wayne and I called the “emergency” travel number late last night and booked our trips. Two weeks people. The notion is seriously dreadful to me right now, leaving a week from today to go to Taiwan again. If it was only a week trip, I think I’d be fine… but two whole weeks. The only other time I was there for two weeks, I started getting seriously antsy for home near the end. And I know I’ve said it a million times, but I always get like this right before I go. Once I’m there, I’m usually OK. I just wish there was some way Sharaun could join me, I think she’d get a big kick out of Taiwan. Ahh… Taiwan… I come to your island shores once more.

And now it’s 11:30pm on Thursday. The trash is at the curb, the dishes are done, and the countertop is clean. And that, my friends, means it’s time to hit the sack. Goodnight.

Posted on

the modern worker

Shiva.
12:20pm on Wednesday afternoon, and I’m right where I want to be for the rest of the day. At home, windows open, music on. Too bad I have to go back to work, that place really puts a damper on my days. I’m listening to a live version of a new Radiohead song that leaked the other day. Seems they’re back in the studio and working on long-player #7. I can’t deny that I consider them to be the most important musicians of the last 15 years, and I look forward to each of their releases with the utmost anticipation. I mean, what other outfit today could see a bootlegged live version of a single new song get a three-paragraph review? Despite my afternoon off yesterday, I still don’t feel right. I’m hoping it goes away soon, I don’t want to be sick and traveling. Yes – that’s right. I’m off for Taiwan yet again in just over a week. You know how I always dread going just before I’m supposed to go? I’m in that phase right now, I just plain don’t feel like going. Two weeks this time, ugh… I feel like I just got back from the last trip. Anyway, I am going, so I better get used to the idea.

Last night I crawled in bed a little after 11pm, and started thinking about how much I didn’t want to wake up and have to go to work the next day. Then, a sentence came to me. Then another. Soon enough, I had enough stuff to warrant me getting back up and out of bed to sit in front of the computer and write a paragraph. I finished it last night before midnight, and almost added it to yesterday’s post – but decided to keep it in case I didn’t feel like writing today. And then, here it is…

I am the modern American worker. I am the employee you hate to love. I complete all that is assigned to me. I foster relationships, work well in teams, and know my field. I will always do what is necessary to succeed. I am easy to get along with. I meet deadlines and assume responsibility. You can rely on me. Resources permitting, I will come through for you 100% of the time. I know how to prioritize. I know how to delegate. I can handle many complex tasks simultaneously without degrading the quality of my output. When you compare me to the checklist, I will meet or exceed all your criteria. Wanna know what else? I feel no sense of duty or loyalty towards my employer; only laziness and comfort keep me where I am. My interest in the company’s success extends only as deep as my desire for a continual paycheck. My work is not inspired. I do not aspire to climb ladders, keep paying me and I’ll stay here forever. I view my job as the necessary evil funding my real life. I say what you want to hear and do what you want done so that you will shut up. Every once in a while I will go above and beyond Joe Employee – but I don’t do this for the betterment of the company or for personal growth – I do this because I know those gold stars at the top of my review might earn me more money. If your goal is to see how much you can squeeze out of me without complaint, my goal is to determine the minimal amount of effort to likewise keep you complaint-free. I will always be like this. The more responsibility you pile on me, the more I’ll pretend to care – and we’ll all be happy. I will express completely insincere feelings so that you think I am one of the ones who “really cares.” I’m the modern American worker, it’s nice to meet you. You can shake my hand if you want, but I just took a piss and didn’t wash it.

I resisted touching that up from last night’s original midnight incarnation, so it’s 100% raw as-written. Looking back, it seems a little overboard and harsh – but I guess it makes its point.

I found this article fascinating. It’s long, but the author writes well and the subject is something I’m a tiny bit familiar with, working in the Indian-rich field of engineering. Once, a friend and co-worker of mine was taking vacation to head to India for his arranged marriage. He’d never even met the woman who’d be arranged for him, but had corresponded with her via phone or e-mail. He was not scared or nervous, but excited. I remember him telling me, “You should come to India for the wedding. I cannot pay for your plane ticket, but if you are able to come you will not have any other expenses. You can stay with my family, and all your food and lodging will be taken care of.” He told me he would be “honored” if I attended… and to be honest, I really considered going – it sounded like the experience of a lifetime. Too bad my pockets aren’t overflowing with money, or else I would’ve. Anyway, read the piece if you have time… good stuff.

Goodnight.

Posted on

under the weather

Zzzzzz....
Today I came home from work after lunch. I think my body is threatening me with sickness, telling me I need sleep by making me feel “off” during the day. I worked through it yesterday afternoon, but wasn’t the most productive. Today the feeling came on earlier, and I just decided to take off and sleep. I got home, did some dishes, made some personal phone calls I’d been meaning to make, and then fell asleep on the couch until Sharaun got home. Now I’m up, and feeling a little better for my nap I think. Unrelated, but with no paragraph other than this one to call home: Since the deadline for getting in the ticket lottery is this Thursday, I went ahead and submitted our application for the World Cup 2006 in Germany. I’ve got my fingers crossed that we get tickets for the matches we want, but considering our luck with lotteries of late (we didn’t get trail passes for Whitney, lost the lottery)… I’m a bit on the guarded side.

I had a thought/idea for today’s entry, but didn’t quite know how to describe what I wanted to say. So, after a bunch of rewrites, this sentence seemed to work best: Over the course of my life, I’ve been constantly honing the skill of having “tough skin.” By tough skin I mean that I’ve done a little more than take the old “Like water off a duck’s back” adage to heart, I’ve actually made it a way of life. I realized early on that humor or comedy can be a very useful tool. Jokes can be used to avoid answering questions, a measured wit can smooth over rough situations, and best of all – jest can turn issues of self-confidence into entirely socially navigable subjects.

When establishing my comedy-as-a-net life-strategy, one of the first lessons I learned was the need to be able to poke fun at myself. You have to be able to make jokes about the things that you are most uncomfortable with or afraid of talking about. This is a critical skill. A common usage model: Someone is picking on you about one of your dreaded insecurities, you take their joke and one-up them, effectively out-joking them about your own fault. This not only establishes you as someone who’s “solid,” it makes you the funnier one (and thereby the winner). Being able to talk openly and joke about your insecurities and faults not only makes people feel more comfortable around you, it helps to downplay your own hangups in your own mind, and realize how stupid and tiny some of your self-issues are. Pride is your worst enemy here, you must learn to accept yourself as-is and work with what you’ve got – every dent and scratch. Keep in mind that you’re not shooting to portray yourself as one who has no self-worth or cares about nothing, but rather someone who is comfortable with himself as they are – blemishes and all. When you’re comfortable in your own skin, you’ve effectively put on a suit of armor. With time, you’ll reach a point where you won’t be “pretending” that things don’t bother you, they really won’t bother you – you’ll have bested them. And to those too-sensitive to manage that state of removal, don’t worry; if you still feel the need to – you can cry about things. Just remember: laughter in public, tears in private.

Another benefit of a humor-led life is the effect it can have on relationship-building. The Chinese have a perfect word for what I’m talking about: guanxi (关系). Guanxi is a word that represents the relationships and “networks” a person has built up and maintains; almost all of Chinese business is guanxi-dependent. Your guanxi defines how successful you’ll be as a business person. Having a humorous outlook on life lends itself to being a typically good-natured person; and being of an agreeable and in general good nature is the key to building good guanxi. When people are laughing, they let their guard down; they get comfortable. Even the shyest and most guarded of persons can usually be laughed out of their shell. For tough nuts, the real skill lies in choosing an approach – some folks require precision, individually-tailored comedy that’s tuned to their comfort level. Your technique will improve as you learn to judge someone’s personality; the faster you can assess someone’s personality type, the sooner you can adapt your jest to their palette. Again, being good-natured and agreeable is a far cry from being a pushover. In order to earn respect you must have some hard lines and integrity. But tempering your edges with joviality is the key to a well-balanced, guanxi-reaping, personality.

When you stare and stare and think and think but nothing else comes, it means the post is over. Goodnight.