The Wannabe

I want to preface this post by saying that I am not a prude, or a conservative, or an easily-offended person.  I am very much a liberal and a patriot who would defend my country and the constitution with my life.  I actually wasn’t even offended by the event described below, but rather just…disappointed.

While driving back to work today after the inspection of the house that I’m trying to buy, I noticed a man wearing an odd t-shirt.  On the front of the shirt, in big bold letters, was the statement, “I Love My Dick.”  I glanced back as I passed, certain that the back of the shirt would contain some sort of punch line or advertisement for a politician named Dick or something that would transform the crude statement on the front into a witty play on words.  Sadly, it did not.  The back of the shirt was blank which unfortunately meant that the statement on the front was to be taken at face value.  This man was proclaiming his love for his genitals for all the world to see.

I rolled my eyes and felt a twinge of disappointment for our great nation.  My first thought was, “How does a shirt like that even get made?!”  Someone had to have come up with the idea, put it down on paper, and submitted it to someone for approval as an idea that should seriously be considered for production.  That someone could have been the manager of a local t-shirt shop or some company that produces shirts with strange sayings or images on them.  But either way, someone actually approved the idea and passed it along to yet another person who then applied the statement to a t-shirt.  Some store manager or owner would then had to have approved the shirt as something that was worthy to be sold at their establishment and when this man walked in to purchase the shirt, he had to have judged it as being something he was willing to pay money for.  Finally, he had to have paid some employee who then accepted the money and sold him the shirt.  And out of all those people, not one of them looked at it and said, “Is this really a good idea?’  The sad part is, all of them must have answered, “Yes” or the man wouldn’t have been walking down the street wearing it (I’m assuming that he did not create the shirt himself and that he did, in fact, pay for it).

I’ve grown to expect these kinds of cynical reactions from myself.  However, moments later, my mind wandered into foreign territory: a hypothetical argument against the First Amendment.  What gives that man the right to walk down the street wearing such a blatantly crass and rude statement, at the risk of offending everyone around him and being immediately judged as a lower class of person?  I’m sure if confronted he would reference his freedom of speech, however I’m certain that’s not what our founding fathers intended when they penned the Bill of Rights and the amendments to the Constitution.  These were men who were building a nation that was distinctly separate from a nation of tyranny.  A nation where speaking out against the ruling class would get you beheaded or hung.  A nation where worshiping a different god, or even the same god in a different way, would get you burned alive.  Certainly our founders had a much nobler definition of “freedom of speech.”

It is of course ridiculous to think that someone should be arrested, or that it should even be a crime, for wearing a shirt with a crude statement.  Yet doesn’t it also seem equally ridiculous that the very foundation of our country not only defends such a choice, but also declares that it is one of our rights as a citizen of the United States of America?  After all, history is rife with examples of individuals and groups being persecuted for exercising their freedom of speech.  The McCarthy era, for example, is stained with the arrest, conviction, and imprisonment of American communists and socialists, because they spoke out against the government.  And isn’t that precisely what was intended by our founding fathers?  Isn’t that the right that should be defended by our freedom of speech?  Just a thought.

The inspection of the house went well.  No major defects, or even minor ones really.  Some of the rooms felt a little small after I started to measure and envision my furniture in there.  And yet the more time I spent there the more I loved it!  The inspector even found a chimney in the attic that ran down to the living room where a fireplace has been walled up.  I’ll know on Tuesday if the mortgage will go through, although supposedly I’m “pre-approved” so I shouldn’t really have anything to worry about.  Sadly that won’t stop me from stressing myself out with worry all weekend.

I burned myself today.  While dropping the fish cakes into the pan of hot oil, a fair amount of it splashed up and hit my fingers.  The searing pain as the oil coated my fingertips coupled with the sudden realization that the burning wouldn’t stop until I washed it off was almost enough to make me curse out loud with Jaxon watching me from across the room.  But I didn’t. I rushed to the sink and applied cool water and soap, kicking myself for loving to cook while not having any burn cream in the house.  After all, this wasn’t the first time I’d burned myself cooking and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

It got me thinking though.  Not ten minutes before, Jaxon had fallen off of the couch.  I saw it happen as I helplessly watched from the kitchen.  He stood up and lost his balance when the cushions became uneven beneath his feat and he tumbled forward to the floor.  It wasn’t a bad fall by any means.  He simply landed on his stomach and very nearly caught himself with his hands.  Didn’t even hit his head, and yet when the fall was over he burst into tears.  His whole face turned red as he used every ounce of breath in his lungs to let out the loudest scream he could muster.  Tears streamed down his face as I lifted him from the floor, patted his back, and looked him over for signs of serious injury.  There were none.  I asked him where it hurt and gave his little hand a kiss when he held it up and pointed to it.  Then I asked if he was ok and he smiled when he suddenly realized he was within reach of my keys on the kitchen counter.  Yeah, he was ok…

But then why did he cry?  I burned myself on three fingers with boiling oil and not only did I not make a peep, I also had the presence of mind to try to treat the wound.  Nearly two hours later they still hurt a little and one is starting to blister.  I’m having to type this with my one unburned hand.  On the other hand (accidental pun), while I’m sure his fall wasn’t pleasant, it couldn’t possibly have been all that bad.  The couch is rather low to the floor, relative to most couches, and his recovery time was too quick to indicate any sort of prolonged pain.  He was done crying in a matter of seconds and happily trying to fit my car key into my bike lock within a minute.  And yet the tears were flowing only a moment after he hit the ground.

I know, I know.  I’m an adult and he’s a two year old.  But that’s exactly my point.  A year ago, a fall like that would have been devastating for him!  He would have screamed for ten minutes and likely cried himself to sleep on my shoulder as I comforted him.  A year later, crying still ensued, but it was over in an instant.  Five years from now it’ll take a fall from his bike and a skinned knee to produce tears, and twenty years after that he’ll be able to dip his fingertips in hot oil with barely a whimper.  Why?  What is it about getting older that makes our pain tolerance increase?  Do adults have fewer pain receptors than children?  Does an adult actually feel less pain than a child who suffers the same injury?  Or perhaps the pain is the same at any age but we simply become desensitized to it as we get older.  Perhaps our bodies get used to the abuse we subject them to and we become accustomed to feeling pain in our daily lives, making it easier for us to ignore it.  Now that’s a scary thought, to think that life is such a painful experience.

The fish cakes turned out…ok.  They were borderline burnt on the outside so that I could get them done on the inside.  Of course, I’ve never been very good at pan frying so I’m not really surprised.  I almost always burn the outside of the food and the house ends up looking as hazy as a cigar lounge from a black and white movie.  I guess I’ll have to practice more.  Fortunately they still tasted good and Jaxon ate two, but they probably would have been better if I hadn’t been too lazy to make the sauce.  I just thought that the combination of crème fraîche and dill would have been too tangy for Jaxon.  Bet it would have made a decent burn cream though.

I had a good day today.  A pleasant break from the norm of the past year.  Woke up at 6:30, before my alarm, showered and shaved and put on a tie for the official project kick-off at work.  I don’t know why I don’t wear ties more often.  Somehow I always seem to feel better when I wear a tie.  Left the house with time to get coffee and the best part is, I didn’t get coffee…on purpose.  Actually told myself in the car, “Do you really need to spend $3.00 on coffee when you’re trying to buy a house?”  Turns out the answer was no, I didn’t need to spend the money.  Speaking of buying a house, I bought a house today!  Well, I didn’t actually buy the house today, but the seller and I finally agreed on a price and their signature is on a counter-offer which is sitting on my realtor’s desk for me to sign tomorrow.  If all goes well I’ll be a home-owner again in 45 days.  The house is perfect.  I don’t think I could even imagine a better house at this price.  Comes with a hot tub and there’s a spare room which is going to get some bright paint and fun carpeting and be a playroom for Jaxon.

Work was productive, even though I didn’t remember to take my pill.  That alone speaks to how good I was feeling today.  And when I got home, I actually did the dishes and sorted laundry before the TV came on.  Even brushed my teeth, which I’m ashamed to admit is a small victory for me.  Don’t make fun…  When the TV finally did come on, I decided to forgo the ritual 30 Rock reruns on Netflix Instant Watch and instead watched this great movie called “The Assassination of Richard Nixon” with Sean Penn (also on Netflix Instant Watch), which was slow to get started but was really intense by the end.  The music is what made it so great.  (Is it weird/paranoid that I was a little afraid to type the title of that movie on a blog post?)

Later on, friends came over and we played racquetball for an hour and a half.  I’ve been playing racquetball almost every night for about two weeks now, and I’ve gone from nearly passing out afterwards to feeling energetic and wanting to keep playing when we’re done.  I felt so good when we finished that I came home and planned meals for the week.  And the best part of the whole day is knowing that I get Jaxon tomorrow.  He’s a great helper in the kitchen!  We’re going to make “potato fish cakes” which look, and hopefully taste, better than they sound.

Yes, for the first time in a long time I actually feel like I’m in control of my own life.  I don’t really know what made me sit down to write this out after more than a year of not posting anything, but here it is, a shining beacon of hope that good days are possible and that maybe, just maybe, life is on the way back up again.  Ingredients:

• A generous helping of good friends
• A dash of exercise
• A sprinkle of good news
• One clean house
• One job that feels worthwhile
• A pinch of self control
• One fantastic kid

It’s official.  I’m now at the lowest point of my recent existential crisis.  A few months ago I woke up and realized that I’m no longer passionate about my job.  I’ve always let my work be a major part of what defines me, and to suddenly realize that I no longer like my job is devastating.

I used to love my job, and most days I still do.  So what’s the problem?  After thinking about it for a long time, I’ve figured it out.  I don’t love this job and I never have.  I love being a part of the nerd culture that IT jobs come with.  I love that most IT people will almost certainly have the same hobbies and interests as me.  I love the daily sci-fi references that are subtly snuck into conversation.  I love that people in IT understand and laugh at my D&D jokes, even if they don’t play D&D.  And most of all, I love the mystique that comes with being an IT guy.  The “IT aura”; a term only used by those outside of IT to explain why the problem never occurs when we’re standing there watching.  The powers of invisibility that allow me to walk into the middle of a confidential meeting to hook up a projector or fix a laptop, without even a pause in the conversation.  The look on the faces of those who aren’t technically inclined when they get a glimpse of the big, white room, always lit, always chilled to a cool 68 degrees, and filled with the green blinking lights and dull hum of a hundred servers that very few outside of IT understand.  These are the reasons why being in IT is a unique experience. 

It’s strange really.  I’m not especially skilled in my job.  I’m quite capable of getting my job done, but I couldn’t process a loan or run a marketing campaign any more than the people in lending or marketing could troubleshoot their own computer issues.  I’m rarely awe-struck by the work of other departments, yet somehow my entry-level desktop support job grants me a level of respect and admiration from all levels of the organization, from the interns to the executives.  It’s sad how a few simple mouse clicks that have become second-nature to me can garner comments like, “You guys in IT are so smart!” and, “I don’t know what we’d do without you!”

Sadly, these things no longer satisfy me.  I find myself three terms away from graduating with a degree in Management/Information Technology, with no clue what I want to do for a living.  Maybe I’m better suited for accounting, or marketing, or R&D, or journalism.  Who knows?  I’m fortunate that Shanan is completely supportive, but it still scares me.  I’m not afraid of changing careers really.  I’m afraid of the blank stares I’ll get the first time I make a D&D joke or Star Wars reference.  Even worse, I’m afraid of the condescending looks I’ll get from the IT guys who won’t know that I’m one of them…

The Wordpress iPhone app has been released! Yah! That means I can blog anywhere that I have cell phone service (and can even save drafts on my phone when I don’t have service). So in theory, never again will I have to say, “I have to remember to blog about this when I get home.” In fact, right now I’m typing this while sitting in the break room at work.

On a different note, I just won an auction on eBay! It really is like they say in the commercials; it’s more fun when you win it. There’s something exciting about the thought that there could be others sitting and watching the exact same item I’m watching. This auction was fairly uneventful though. There was no bidding frenzy during the last few seconds and even if there had been, my first bid was the highest I (really Shanan) was willing to go.

So what did I win? The first seven seasons of Friends on DVD! In case you didn’t know, I’m a bit of a Friends fanatic. I never really watched it while it was on TV but after a few reruns I was hooked. Shanan and I watched every episode from start to finish back when we had a Blockbuster Online subscription. Now we’ll be able to do it again! Shanan is much less excited than I am.

“Why just the first seven seasons” you ask? Because it was more strategic. eBay has dozens of copies of all ten seasons up for auction at any given time. The problem is that these usually end in last-minute bidding frenzies that push the price up to $110 or more. This is quite a steal considering that a retail copy usually goes for around $200. Still, I didn’t have $110. That’s when I noticed that lots of six or seven seasons were going for $60-$70 with only one or two bids and I went for that option. I still got them for about $10 per season, but without the bidding war I totally beat the system! Kinda…

Oh, by the way, I placed my eBay bid using the iPhone eBay app. I love my iPhone! That is all.