Technobabble Turns the Table
Is this Andy?
Yep. What's going on?
Yeah, this here's Terrell from World Motors. Wanted to talk to you about your car.
Is there something wrong? I just brought it in for an oil change and filter.
Well, yeah, but while we had 'er up on the lift, we noticed a problem. Looks like you goin' a need a Johnson bar retrofit.
Johnson bar?
Yeah. Helluva thing.
I've never heard of that. I hadn't noticed that there was a problem.
Well, naw. You wouldn't. These Johnson bars are part of the vertical torsion expanders on these newer vehicles. And you don't quite notice a problem in the VTE until it's too late. It'll look right 'n all, but when it comes down to it, and you throw that dang Johnson bar, car'll never run right again.
How does that happen?
Well, usually you start getting slippage in the centrifugal limiter bearing. That's the piece in the VTE where the Johnson bar connects to the pinometric unit.
Uh... huh. So what's the problem?
Johnson bar's bent.
Can't you just straighten it?
Well, you could, but s'posin' I did, I just wouldn't feel right about it. And you shouldn't be all that comfortable either. These just ain't any good once you've bent 'em once. You'll start just wearin' the tires out on your right side.
I see. I thought we went through this the last time -- something in the electrical system?
No, that was the Jackson harness. (keyboard tapping) Yep. And there's no indication you need to do anything thataways this time.
Can I get these used? After-market?
Uh, y'see, well, y'could. Technically. But you don't want none-a them Korean Johnson bars. Lotsa those come pre-vexed, and once you go 'n try 'n bias 'em, thing just don't wanna go in. Same goes for the used ones.
Is this something I can do myself? I can get a Chilton manual and...
Oh, man. Be sure you know what you're doin'. And just be careful when you do, cause when you back off that Johnson nut, the CLB is loaded up in a spring-mount. That'll just come a-flyin' outta there like a wild Slinky, and then you'd have a real goddamn mess on your hands, 'scuse my language. That's somethin' they don't tell ya in that manual. You'll also need a #5 sprocket wrangle, and it's gonna have to be reverse-threaded, cuz you got one of these imports, now...
OK, OK, OK. Sounds like too much work. Guess I'll go with the retrofit.
Yeah. Good call. I'm thinkin'... (typing keyboard) three hours labor, Johnson bar, vexed, biased... comes to about an even grand. I think you'll also want to go with the chromalated limiter bearing too, but I'll throw that in for you. Have it to you in... lessee... three days.
Uh... OK.
Thank you for your business! We sure appreciate ya.
Saturday, February 28, 2004
Thursday, February 26, 2004
Sinus infection redux. Does someone have a home remedy to recommend? Flonase only offers temporary relief, and most any OTC medication containing decongestants knocks me out. (This is the second go-round of the bug I've had since mid-January. Blugh.)
Much drama from the office today. Maybe someday I can fully disclose what's going on, but as it stands, I don't have many options. I'll just leave it at that, and say, whew. Stressful day.
Perhaps I can consider this recent tenure as résumé-gussy-up material. It is incredibly frustrating, especially being surrounded by people with decades of tenure. My recent go-round at WCOM was the longest stint I've had anywhere. I'm beginning to believe that the wave of the future (other than outsourcing, anyway) is working a series of jobs for relatively short (~5 year) periods. It's basically long-term temp work. Hey, low-wage earners can't escape it, so exempt employees may as well be next.
Next task: Figure out how to distill Concord Network E-Health reports in other ways, using only Microsoft Excel, because there's no way someone's going to drop $10K in my lap to get a decent statistical analysis package. (You'd think someone would learn how to use the custom options inherent in Concord, but nooooooooooooo.)
OK, whine mode disengaged.
On to Bosco's for a few semi-cold ones. I hope they have the Altbier in the cask.
Much drama from the office today. Maybe someday I can fully disclose what's going on, but as it stands, I don't have many options. I'll just leave it at that, and say, whew. Stressful day.
Perhaps I can consider this recent tenure as résumé-gussy-up material. It is incredibly frustrating, especially being surrounded by people with decades of tenure. My recent go-round at WCOM was the longest stint I've had anywhere. I'm beginning to believe that the wave of the future (other than outsourcing, anyway) is working a series of jobs for relatively short (~5 year) periods. It's basically long-term temp work. Hey, low-wage earners can't escape it, so exempt employees may as well be next.
Next task: Figure out how to distill Concord Network E-Health reports in other ways, using only Microsoft Excel, because there's no way someone's going to drop $10K in my lap to get a decent statistical analysis package. (You'd think someone would learn how to use the custom options inherent in Concord, but nooooooooooooo.)
OK, whine mode disengaged.
On to Bosco's for a few semi-cold ones. I hope they have the Altbier in the cask.
Wednesday, February 25, 2004
Y'know, I really need to drag out my old cassettes.
When I started amassing anything remotely resembling my own music collection, I was a cassette tape fanatic. That coincides with my favored mode of listening to music at the time, which was jacked into a Walkman.
I probably have something on the order of 300 - 400 factory cassettes, and heaven only knows how many dubs.
I've been considering a number of ideas for submissions to the next HH issue, and one of them is how the music of my youth stands up for me today. After recently acquiring a copy of Bad Brains I Against I, and having listened the bits off the disc, I gotta say that it holds up for me like a comfy pair of Doc Martens. Going even further back, I have found that even Adam Ant still has this thing for me which transcends nostalgia. That is, I can listen to this stuff today, and it appeals to me in ways that I would not have even expected at the age of 17. At least, I don't think so. 17-year-old me hardly conceived of making it to 21, much less 35.
Which, by the way, I surpassed that mark on Feb. 6 -- sharing my day of birth with Babe Ruth, Bob Marley, Tom Brokaw, and ... Ronald Reagan.
When I started amassing anything remotely resembling my own music collection, I was a cassette tape fanatic. That coincides with my favored mode of listening to music at the time, which was jacked into a Walkman.
I probably have something on the order of 300 - 400 factory cassettes, and heaven only knows how many dubs.
I've been considering a number of ideas for submissions to the next HH issue, and one of them is how the music of my youth stands up for me today. After recently acquiring a copy of Bad Brains I Against I, and having listened the bits off the disc, I gotta say that it holds up for me like a comfy pair of Doc Martens. Going even further back, I have found that even Adam Ant still has this thing for me which transcends nostalgia. That is, I can listen to this stuff today, and it appeals to me in ways that I would not have even expected at the age of 17. At least, I don't think so. 17-year-old me hardly conceived of making it to 21, much less 35.
Which, by the way, I surpassed that mark on Feb. 6 -- sharing my day of birth with Babe Ruth, Bob Marley, Tom Brokaw, and ... Ronald Reagan.
New (to me) acquisitions on compact disc:
Tommy Womack, Positively Na Na (Checkered Past, 1998). For those of you who've read my screed in The High Hat's #3 issue, you'll already know that I like Tommy's work. This CD is no exception. Of particular note is his paean to The Dead Boys et. al, "Whatever Happened to Cheetah Chrome?" His tale of childhood revenge fantasies, "Skinny & Small," is also a lot of fun. That's what you get with Tommy. Fun. (I'm serious, find yourself a copy of Cheese Chronicles if you like music, and you like a good laugh. This book is a fast read, and it's indispensible if you've ever longed to live the rock 'n roll life.)
Superchunk, Tossing Seeds (Singles 88 - 91) (Merge, 1991). What I know about Superchunk could fill a thimble. Common wisdom says that if you're going to check them out, look to their early stuff. Based on at least 4 listens, I would say that's worthwhile advice. Crunching guitars, intelligent pop lyrics, uptempo bruisers. I can see what the fuss was about.
Joe Ely, Streets of Sin (Rounder, 2003). Venerable rocker in cowboy boots sneaks a release in under the radar, just as The Flatlanders issue their 3rd album (Wheels of Fortune, (New West, 2004)) in 3 decades and change. It's encouraged me to dig out copies of Musta Notta Gotta Lotta and Honky Tonk Masquerade. Joe's style might not be as juke-joint-shakin' as his "Fingernails" era output, but this is worth having if you're a fan. And I'm a fan.
Guided By Voices, Jellyfish Reflector (live recording, 1996). From the Under the Bushes, Under the Stars tour. Gotta say, this one doesn't grab my attention until they run through what they call their "new stuff." Maybe that's because that's about the time Bob would have gotten a decent buzz on. This is so-so quality bootage. It sounds OK, but Bob loses pitch a few too many times for my taste. I do like 'em live, but as the saying goes, "You really had to be there." RIYL GbV, otherwise, it's an easy pass.
Fela Anikulapo Kuti, Beasts of No Nation/O.D.O.O. (FAK via MCA Recordings, 2001). Two half-hour cuts, zero bullshit.
Tommy Womack, Positively Na Na (Checkered Past, 1998). For those of you who've read my screed in The High Hat's #3 issue, you'll already know that I like Tommy's work. This CD is no exception. Of particular note is his paean to The Dead Boys et. al, "Whatever Happened to Cheetah Chrome?" His tale of childhood revenge fantasies, "Skinny & Small," is also a lot of fun. That's what you get with Tommy. Fun. (I'm serious, find yourself a copy of Cheese Chronicles if you like music, and you like a good laugh. This book is a fast read, and it's indispensible if you've ever longed to live the rock 'n roll life.)
Superchunk, Tossing Seeds (Singles 88 - 91) (Merge, 1991). What I know about Superchunk could fill a thimble. Common wisdom says that if you're going to check them out, look to their early stuff. Based on at least 4 listens, I would say that's worthwhile advice. Crunching guitars, intelligent pop lyrics, uptempo bruisers. I can see what the fuss was about.
Joe Ely, Streets of Sin (Rounder, 2003). Venerable rocker in cowboy boots sneaks a release in under the radar, just as The Flatlanders issue their 3rd album (Wheels of Fortune, (New West, 2004)) in 3 decades and change. It's encouraged me to dig out copies of Musta Notta Gotta Lotta and Honky Tonk Masquerade. Joe's style might not be as juke-joint-shakin' as his "Fingernails" era output, but this is worth having if you're a fan. And I'm a fan.
Guided By Voices, Jellyfish Reflector (live recording, 1996). From the Under the Bushes, Under the Stars tour. Gotta say, this one doesn't grab my attention until they run through what they call their "new stuff." Maybe that's because that's about the time Bob would have gotten a decent buzz on. This is so-so quality bootage. It sounds OK, but Bob loses pitch a few too many times for my taste. I do like 'em live, but as the saying goes, "You really had to be there." RIYL GbV, otherwise, it's an easy pass.
Fela Anikulapo Kuti, Beasts of No Nation/O.D.O.O. (FAK via MCA Recordings, 2001). Two half-hour cuts, zero bullshit.
Monday, February 09, 2004
1) If you were making a soundtrack for your life so far – this song would have to be on it.
"The Good Earth" -- The Feelies. It'd be easy enough to list a bunch of songs about women who've managed to break my heart, but this one is from a particularly rough patch in my life. It was a few days after my dad died; I'd put this cassette into my Walkman and jacked it into the stereo so I wouldn't have to listen through headphones. My baby sister, Emma, started dancing along when this song came on. There's something of a relief from watching a 3-year-old bouncing around the house, rather than the other recent events.
2) A song from one of the CDs currently in your 1) car stereo 2) portable CD player 3) stereo (No MP3 or iPod players, just cause)
"Chains of Love" -- Dirtbombs Disc 1, Track 1 in the car six-loader. This is from an album of soul covers entitled Ultraglide in Black. Furious fuzz and percussion. Word has it they give great live show.
3) A song from the first album, cassette, or CD (whichever was first or the oldest that you still have access to) that you purchased for yourself.
"Dog Eat Dog" -- Adam & The Ants. I actually bought two that day; my first couple of purchases of cassettes with my own money were Men At Work Business as Usual and Adam & the Ants Kings of the Wild Frontier. So it was a toss-up between these, and A&tA won because I recently copped an Adam Ant comp. The music is actually better than I remember, which is often not the case with my nostalgia kicks. The stuff from Dirk Wears White Sox is especially worthy of a re-listen, especially in this age of garage redux.
4) A song without a word in its title. (i.e. numbers or acronyms)
"6V6 LA" -- The Meters. This is from a cutout bin snag at a Camelot Records in Boulder, CO. Camelot always did have the best bargain bin stuff of the chains (at least until Media Play came around), but this is by far one of the coolest things I've ever bought for super-cheap. I think it stayed in my disc magazine for 3 months.
5) A song from the year you were born (we’ll take written, recorded, or released)
"Here Comes the Sun" -- The Beatles. Significant for any number of reasons, but I'll take this one: When I was growing up, I was often given the option of what I wanted to listen to before naptime. I had my choice between Rod Stewart's Every Picture Tells A Story, The Beatles Sgt. Pepper, or "Apple Beatles," which was how I referred to Abbey Road. This song also begins what is probably one of the most perfect LP B-sides ever pressed.
6) A song with the name of someone in this music swap in it (doesn’t have to be in the title)
"William, It Was Really Nothing" -- The Smiths. My tribute to William Ham.
7) A song in a language other than English.
"Cerebro Electronico" -- Gilberto Gil. As far as so-called world music is concerned, I don't know how easily one can top the sheer force of Gil. From the LP 1969, coincidentally the year of my birth...
8) A song with a city or state/province name (countries don’t count).
"Ft. Worth Blues" -- Steve Earle. Earle's tribute to the late, great Townes Van Zandt. If you ever get the chance to see this performed on the Austin City Limits tribute to Townes, check it out.
9) Say you're planning a multi-day road trip, this song could go on every mix you make for the trip.
"Kit Kat Clock" -- Bottle Rockets. Catchy, head-bopping country pop from their 24 Hours a Day LP.
10) A song by a local artist.
"Message from the Birds" -- The Bees. Not to be confused with the Nuggets act. These guys kinda fall into the low-blood-sugar category, but their album is positively infectious. It's sorta emo music, minus 72.6% self-indulgent navel-gazing. Features the ample talents of Daniel Tashian.
11) A song with a color in the title (bonus points for pink, negative points for raspberry beret)
"Betty Was Black (And Willie Was White)" -- Bis-Quits. And a two-fer for this category. Written by Tommy Womack, a straight-up delta-fried blues rawka about the realities of interracial relationships. I dig the rhymes in this song, especially the couplet, "Fell in a bottle of Tanqueray/Fell in love that very day."
12) It’s 5am, your alarm is going off, this song would still make you smile.
"Cruel to be Kind" -- Nick Lowe. It's unfair that Lowe gets pigeonholed as a one-hit wonder as the result of having just this one hit, but despite its overexposure on MTV, this song still holds up as a pop masterwork. I suppose if you're going to have one hit, this ain't a bad one to have.
13) Either a cover you thought was an original or an original you thought was a cover (identify in case we may not know which & if a cover, identify the original artist)
"Freddie's Dead" -- Fishbone (Curtis Mayfield). The first time I heard the original was on some moldy-oldies AM station out of Chicago driving down the Eisenhower Expressway on the way back from work one night. I had to ask someone who was performing this tune, as up until then, I'd thought Fishbone had written this song. I was unfamiliar with Curtis Mayfield at the time, but in fairness, I gotta say that the 'Bone made this song their own.
14) A song that is about a specific movie or book or at least mentions a specific movie or book. (identify which one if it is not mentioned by name)
"Solar Sister" -- The Posies. The first line points out Theodore Dreiser's first work, Sister Carrie.
15) WILDCARD
"Self-Referenced/West Germany"-- Nels Cline Trio. This is one of the few covers of a Minutemen song which captures the fury of D. Boon at his best, and even improves upon it.
16) A song that has reached number one on a Billboard chart (state which chart and when).
"Rapture" -- Blondie (Hot 100, 1981). I had to dip into the wife's CD collection to come up with this one.
17) It’s a little bit country/it’s a little bit rock and roll – this song doesn’t fit a category as far as you’re concerned.
"Back Screen Door" -- Pat McLaughlin. Pat's been referred to as "the Van Morrison of Nashville." He can rock with the best of them, but he's also got a folksy feel to a lot of his music when he's not bluesy or just a shade left of country. The lyrics are intelligent, and you will seldom see an artist work harder on the stage.
18) I hate the artist, but I love the song.
"To Be Young (Is To Be Sad, Is To Be High)" -- Ryan Adams. This is a bit of a cheat, as I really like a lot of Adams' work. It's just that he's such a colossal asshole that it's hard to be too worked up about his stuff. I really don't care much for him, but his work is impressive. Not only impressive, but almost instantly classic.
19) Wha? If anyone can tell me what this song is about, give me a call. (no fair using Mansfield Park)
"Lady Sniff" -- Butthole Surfers. "Pass me some of that dumbass over there, yeah boy." Near as I can tell, this is a send-up of a homeless blues artist who speaks in expressionist phrase.
20) Guilty Pleasure or I am embarrassed that I like it song.
"Two Tickets To Paradise" -- Eddie Money. Actually, I'm almost proud to admit that I like this song -- the studio work is impeccable, particularly the rhythm section work. It's just too bad that most of his other stuff is such twee crap.
*Bonus tracks – if you have the room and the inclination you can include any or all of these rare and never before mentioned bonus tracks.
21) TV theme song
"In The Street" -- Big Star (redone by Cheap Trick). From That 70's Show.
22) An unrequited love song.
Would have been "Untouchable Face" -- Ani Difranco had I had the room. Scrubbed, as was optional.
23) A song you love just for the title.
"I Married Her Just Because She Looks Like You" -- Lyle Lovett. Another artist which I find difficult to categorize instantly, even though he's most often lumped in the country category.
24) stumper?
"15 Kinds of Fool" -- Persian Rugs. Australian quartet comprised of ex-Hoodoo Gurus.
"The Good Earth" -- The Feelies. It'd be easy enough to list a bunch of songs about women who've managed to break my heart, but this one is from a particularly rough patch in my life. It was a few days after my dad died; I'd put this cassette into my Walkman and jacked it into the stereo so I wouldn't have to listen through headphones. My baby sister, Emma, started dancing along when this song came on. There's something of a relief from watching a 3-year-old bouncing around the house, rather than the other recent events.
2) A song from one of the CDs currently in your 1) car stereo 2) portable CD player 3) stereo (No MP3 or iPod players, just cause)
"Chains of Love" -- Dirtbombs Disc 1, Track 1 in the car six-loader. This is from an album of soul covers entitled Ultraglide in Black. Furious fuzz and percussion. Word has it they give great live show.
3) A song from the first album, cassette, or CD (whichever was first or the oldest that you still have access to) that you purchased for yourself.
"Dog Eat Dog" -- Adam & The Ants. I actually bought two that day; my first couple of purchases of cassettes with my own money were Men At Work Business as Usual and Adam & the Ants Kings of the Wild Frontier. So it was a toss-up between these, and A&tA won because I recently copped an Adam Ant comp. The music is actually better than I remember, which is often not the case with my nostalgia kicks. The stuff from Dirk Wears White Sox is especially worthy of a re-listen, especially in this age of garage redux.
4) A song without a word in its title. (i.e. numbers or acronyms)
"6V6 LA" -- The Meters. This is from a cutout bin snag at a Camelot Records in Boulder, CO. Camelot always did have the best bargain bin stuff of the chains (at least until Media Play came around), but this is by far one of the coolest things I've ever bought for super-cheap. I think it stayed in my disc magazine for 3 months.
5) A song from the year you were born (we’ll take written, recorded, or released)
"Here Comes the Sun" -- The Beatles. Significant for any number of reasons, but I'll take this one: When I was growing up, I was often given the option of what I wanted to listen to before naptime. I had my choice between Rod Stewart's Every Picture Tells A Story, The Beatles Sgt. Pepper, or "Apple Beatles," which was how I referred to Abbey Road. This song also begins what is probably one of the most perfect LP B-sides ever pressed.
6) A song with the name of someone in this music swap in it (doesn’t have to be in the title)
"William, It Was Really Nothing" -- The Smiths. My tribute to William Ham.
7) A song in a language other than English.
"Cerebro Electronico" -- Gilberto Gil. As far as so-called world music is concerned, I don't know how easily one can top the sheer force of Gil. From the LP 1969, coincidentally the year of my birth...
8) A song with a city or state/province name (countries don’t count).
"Ft. Worth Blues" -- Steve Earle. Earle's tribute to the late, great Townes Van Zandt. If you ever get the chance to see this performed on the Austin City Limits tribute to Townes, check it out.
9) Say you're planning a multi-day road trip, this song could go on every mix you make for the trip.
"Kit Kat Clock" -- Bottle Rockets. Catchy, head-bopping country pop from their 24 Hours a Day LP.
10) A song by a local artist.
"Message from the Birds" -- The Bees. Not to be confused with the Nuggets act. These guys kinda fall into the low-blood-sugar category, but their album is positively infectious. It's sorta emo music, minus 72.6% self-indulgent navel-gazing. Features the ample talents of Daniel Tashian.
11) A song with a color in the title (bonus points for pink, negative points for raspberry beret)
"Betty Was Black (And Willie Was White)" -- Bis-Quits. And a two-fer for this category. Written by Tommy Womack, a straight-up delta-fried blues rawka about the realities of interracial relationships. I dig the rhymes in this song, especially the couplet, "Fell in a bottle of Tanqueray/Fell in love that very day."
12) It’s 5am, your alarm is going off, this song would still make you smile.
"Cruel to be Kind" -- Nick Lowe. It's unfair that Lowe gets pigeonholed as a one-hit wonder as the result of having just this one hit, but despite its overexposure on MTV, this song still holds up as a pop masterwork. I suppose if you're going to have one hit, this ain't a bad one to have.
13) Either a cover you thought was an original or an original you thought was a cover (identify in case we may not know which & if a cover, identify the original artist)
"Freddie's Dead" -- Fishbone (Curtis Mayfield). The first time I heard the original was on some moldy-oldies AM station out of Chicago driving down the Eisenhower Expressway on the way back from work one night. I had to ask someone who was performing this tune, as up until then, I'd thought Fishbone had written this song. I was unfamiliar with Curtis Mayfield at the time, but in fairness, I gotta say that the 'Bone made this song their own.
14) A song that is about a specific movie or book or at least mentions a specific movie or book. (identify which one if it is not mentioned by name)
"Solar Sister" -- The Posies. The first line points out Theodore Dreiser's first work, Sister Carrie.
15) WILDCARD
"Self-Referenced/West Germany"-- Nels Cline Trio. This is one of the few covers of a Minutemen song which captures the fury of D. Boon at his best, and even improves upon it.
16) A song that has reached number one on a Billboard chart (state which chart and when).
"Rapture" -- Blondie (Hot 100, 1981). I had to dip into the wife's CD collection to come up with this one.
17) It’s a little bit country/it’s a little bit rock and roll – this song doesn’t fit a category as far as you’re concerned.
"Back Screen Door" -- Pat McLaughlin. Pat's been referred to as "the Van Morrison of Nashville." He can rock with the best of them, but he's also got a folksy feel to a lot of his music when he's not bluesy or just a shade left of country. The lyrics are intelligent, and you will seldom see an artist work harder on the stage.
18) I hate the artist, but I love the song.
"To Be Young (Is To Be Sad, Is To Be High)" -- Ryan Adams. This is a bit of a cheat, as I really like a lot of Adams' work. It's just that he's such a colossal asshole that it's hard to be too worked up about his stuff. I really don't care much for him, but his work is impressive. Not only impressive, but almost instantly classic.
19) Wha? If anyone can tell me what this song is about, give me a call. (no fair using Mansfield Park)
"Lady Sniff" -- Butthole Surfers. "Pass me some of that dumbass over there, yeah boy." Near as I can tell, this is a send-up of a homeless blues artist who speaks in expressionist phrase.
20) Guilty Pleasure or I am embarrassed that I like it song.
"Two Tickets To Paradise" -- Eddie Money. Actually, I'm almost proud to admit that I like this song -- the studio work is impeccable, particularly the rhythm section work. It's just too bad that most of his other stuff is such twee crap.
*Bonus tracks – if you have the room and the inclination you can include any or all of these rare and never before mentioned bonus tracks.
21) TV theme song
"In The Street" -- Big Star (redone by Cheap Trick). From That 70's Show.
22) An unrequited love song.
Would have been "Untouchable Face" -- Ani Difranco had I had the room. Scrubbed, as was optional.
23) A song you love just for the title.
"I Married Her Just Because She Looks Like You" -- Lyle Lovett. Another artist which I find difficult to categorize instantly, even though he's most often lumped in the country category.
24) stumper?
"15 Kinds of Fool" -- Persian Rugs. Australian quartet comprised of ex-Hoodoo Gurus.
Welcome to 2004. High time for a blog update. First of all, there's a new face. The template needs some work, but I'll wait until I have a little more time to play with Dreamweaver to make that happen. As it is, lo-fi suits my needs.
Since last update: Married. Went to Australia. (The thumbnails are temporarily screwed up, and I'll get on that as well, but as it is, feel free to browse a few pictures from New Year's Eve. If you click on the pictures, you'll get the correct underlying photo, so don't be surprised.) Wedding photos are available by request; get with me via normal channels if you wanna make that happen.
I'm currently playing with my new favorite toy: The TiVo, with Home Media Option installed. Here's what makes that really cool: I can stream my entire iTunes catalog through the stereo over the home area network, by way of the TiVo. I can also view iPhoto libraries as slideshows. And you thought Powerpoint was boring!
Upcoming events:
Tennessee Primary, 2/10/04. John Kerry is in it to win it. Watch this space for other insights as the season develops.
Recent CD purchases:
Wayne "The Train" Hancock, Swing Time. Live set from the Continental Club, Austin, TX. Fun set.
The Kentucky Colonels, Livin' in the Past. If you like bluegrass and have not heard the White Brothers (Clarence & Roland), you owe it to yourself to check this out.
Joe Strummer & The Mescaleros, Streetcore. Initial listenings are way way way positive. I feel incredibly guilty for having taken Joe for granted. I doubt he knew this would be his final release, but it's a fitting memorial nonetheless.
Dos, Justamente Tres. Mike Watt & Kira exchange bass licks. The version of "Do You Want New Wave..." is worth the price alone.
Also -- find a copy of anything put out by the Detroit combo, The Dirtbombs. Ultraglide In Black is especially compelling. Funk & soul covers with a heavy layer of fuzz. The sweat is implied. They're appearing at the Exit/In this March, and I will be getting my ass there.
I'll do my best to do better at this in the near future. No promises, though.
Since last update: Married. Went to Australia. (The thumbnails are temporarily screwed up, and I'll get on that as well, but as it is, feel free to browse a few pictures from New Year's Eve. If you click on the pictures, you'll get the correct underlying photo, so don't be surprised.) Wedding photos are available by request; get with me via normal channels if you wanna make that happen.
I'm currently playing with my new favorite toy: The TiVo, with Home Media Option installed. Here's what makes that really cool: I can stream my entire iTunes catalog through the stereo over the home area network, by way of the TiVo. I can also view iPhoto libraries as slideshows. And you thought Powerpoint was boring!
Upcoming events:
Tennessee Primary, 2/10/04. John Kerry is in it to win it. Watch this space for other insights as the season develops.
Recent CD purchases:
Wayne "The Train" Hancock, Swing Time. Live set from the Continental Club, Austin, TX. Fun set.
The Kentucky Colonels, Livin' in the Past. If you like bluegrass and have not heard the White Brothers (Clarence & Roland), you owe it to yourself to check this out.
Joe Strummer & The Mescaleros, Streetcore. Initial listenings are way way way positive. I feel incredibly guilty for having taken Joe for granted. I doubt he knew this would be his final release, but it's a fitting memorial nonetheless.
Dos, Justamente Tres. Mike Watt & Kira exchange bass licks. The version of "Do You Want New Wave..." is worth the price alone.
Also -- find a copy of anything put out by the Detroit combo, The Dirtbombs. Ultraglide In Black is especially compelling. Funk & soul covers with a heavy layer of fuzz. The sweat is implied. They're appearing at the Exit/In this March, and I will be getting my ass there.
I'll do my best to do better at this in the near future. No promises, though.
Tuesday, August 12, 2003
I get married in less than a month.
The date is 9/7/2003.
Good news -- 1) Going forward, my anniversary will more than likely fall on Labor Day weekend. Whoo-hoo! 2) Bonus points: I will be out of the country for Republi-Con 2003, which I'm led to understand shall fall on 9/11 in NYC. No pager, no cellphone, no Blackberry. I. Can't. Wait.
So I'll be in Australia. The itinerary currently includes Sydney, Cairns, & Melbourne; points in-between will also be visited.
I look forward to drinking Victoria Bitters in a genuine pair of stubbies.
New music:
I've recently discovered Corndogs.Org, a wealth of bootlegged Wattage, and some priceless Minutemen errata. Check it out, if you are to check out nothing else. I especially like the Bottleneck boots with Tom Watson & Jerry Trebotic. These are must-haves. Decent sound quality, and lots of rare stuff. My hat is off.
Nothing much else to report. The new job has left me with precious little breathing room.
Perhaps with a few more posts, Blogspot will no longer be co-advertising Jayhawks stuff on my weblog.
The date is 9/7/2003.
Good news -- 1) Going forward, my anniversary will more than likely fall on Labor Day weekend.
So I'll be in Australia. The itinerary currently includes Sydney, Cairns, & Melbourne; points in-between will also be visited.
I look forward to drinking Victoria Bitters in a genuine pair of stubbies.
New music:
I've recently discovered Corndogs.Org, a wealth of bootlegged Wattage, and some priceless Minutemen errata. Check it out, if you are to check out nothing else. I especially like the Bottleneck boots with Tom Watson & Jerry Trebotic. These are must-haves. Decent sound quality, and lots of rare stuff. My hat is off.
Nothing much else to report. The new job has left me with precious little breathing room.
Perhaps with a few more posts, Blogspot will no longer be co-advertising Jayhawks stuff on my weblog.
Thursday, April 17, 2003
Awright...
I blew the Roy Williams prediction.
Maybe I'm one of the few people that believed that "loyalty" still meant something.
(To hear the sports press tell it, the only people that got screwed were the recruits -- such as David Padgett -- that now won't get to play for Roy Williams. Never mind that an entire program was left in the lurch.)
And here I thought there was nothing that would have me cheering for Duke.
So much for my absolutism.
I blew the Roy Williams prediction.
Maybe I'm one of the few people that believed that "loyalty" still meant something.
(To hear the sports press tell it, the only people that got screwed were the recruits -- such as David Padgett -- that now won't get to play for Roy Williams. Never mind that an entire program was left in the lurch.)
And here I thought there was nothing that would have me cheering for Duke.
So much for my absolutism.
Tuesday, April 08, 2003
Well, so much for making history.
Jayhawks in a hard loss, 80-77.
I don't have a lot to say about it. When you don't make free throws, you don't always win. Seems to me that the set shot is one facet of the game which is commonly overlooked now. It has something to do with the institution of the 3-point shot. What I don't understand, though, is how someone can stroke shot after shot from the 3-point arc, and then brick consistently at the charity stripe.
Roy Williams scored a few points with me when he basically told Bonnie Bernstein where she could go. "I could give a shit about North Carolina right now," he said in an unedited live feed. The censors must have been shocked that Roy said anything stronger than "dadgum" on camera, but I knew Roy must have that kind of fire in his soul. I am of one mind as far as the notion of his leaving is concerned; that is, he won't. If he didn't take the reigns when Dean Smith retired, I doubt he has more incentive now -- despite swirling rumors of a rift between him and KU athletic director Al Bohl. Roy and Bob Frederick were much tighter, but why would there be a problem if Roy is producing results, year after year? Granted, there's the question of "winning the big one," and you (well, I... the "royal you") get the feeling that Roy has one in him if he decides to shaft the Tar Heels again. (I find it interesting that the same journalists jeering Williams lack of a championship are some of the same ones staining their sans-a-belt Dockers over the idea that Roy might wander over to Carolina and take over that program.)
Weekend acquisition: I'm now caretaking two abandoned kittens, approx. 2 weeks old. One is ginger (female), and the other is ginger & white (male). They were found under a garbage can at the weekend house in Kentucky.
Interested parties may contact me via email regarding adoption.
New music snags:
Speaking of tapes -- does anyone find much use for them any more? I have about 300 sitting in my closet, and would consider fobbing off a few in trades.
Jayhawks in a hard loss, 80-77.
I don't have a lot to say about it. When you don't make free throws, you don't always win. Seems to me that the set shot is one facet of the game which is commonly overlooked now. It has something to do with the institution of the 3-point shot. What I don't understand, though, is how someone can stroke shot after shot from the 3-point arc, and then brick consistently at the charity stripe.
Roy Williams scored a few points with me when he basically told Bonnie Bernstein where she could go. "I could give a shit about North Carolina right now," he said in an unedited live feed. The censors must have been shocked that Roy said anything stronger than "dadgum" on camera, but I knew Roy must have that kind of fire in his soul. I am of one mind as far as the notion of his leaving is concerned; that is, he won't. If he didn't take the reigns when Dean Smith retired, I doubt he has more incentive now -- despite swirling rumors of a rift between him and KU athletic director Al Bohl. Roy and Bob Frederick were much tighter, but why would there be a problem if Roy is producing results, year after year? Granted, there's the question of "winning the big one," and you (well, I... the "royal you") get the feeling that Roy has one in him if he decides to shaft the Tar Heels again. (I find it interesting that the same journalists jeering Williams lack of a championship are some of the same ones staining their sans-a-belt Dockers over the idea that Roy might wander over to Carolina and take over that program.)
Weekend acquisition: I'm now caretaking two abandoned kittens, approx. 2 weeks old. One is ginger (female), and the other is ginger & white (male). They were found under a garbage can at the weekend house in Kentucky.
Interested parties may contact me via email regarding adoption.
New music snags:
Ani Difranco, Evolve. I have not taken the opportunity to digest, but my preview listening was mostly positive. I like the added instrumentation.
Wire, 154. It's my least favorite among Pink Flag and Chairs Missing, but my Wire collection feels incomplete without it. Basically a CD for tape upgrade.
Speaking of tapes -- does anyone find much use for them any more? I have about 300 sitting in my closet, and would consider fobbing off a few in trades.
Friday, April 04, 2003
Roger Miller says that "you can't roller skate in a buffalo herd."
I wonder if he ever captured a renegade black cat on hands and knees, with a 5-beer buzz, through the crawl space of a 3000 square foot house at 2 a.m.
I did, and I have the mutilated hand to prove it.
I guess my version of impossibility wouldn't be catchy enough for Music Row.
That said, however, next time I see a herd of bison, I'm strapping on my K2's. Y'know. Just to see.
I wonder if he ever captured a renegade black cat on hands and knees, with a 5-beer buzz, through the crawl space of a 3000 square foot house at 2 a.m.
I did, and I have the mutilated hand to prove it.
I guess my version of impossibility wouldn't be catchy enough for Music Row.
That said, however, next time I see a herd of bison, I'm strapping on my K2's. Y'know. Just to see.
So, week six of unemployment is just getting ready to go -- just in time for the Jayhawks vaunted bid for the NCAA Men's title. I was in Lawrence in 1988 for the "Manning and the Miracles" championship, and I developed a bit of fanboy jones for the music of Chuck Mead (now with BR5-49) in his incarnation with the Homestead Grays as they played at the satellite union. I was also there in 1991 for the finals against Duke, but no one remembers #2. That is, unless your blood runs Crimson & Blue, which mine does. If Mark Randall and Jeff Gueldner fell short, and if Adonis Jordan and Rex Walters couldn't get it done, and Raef LaFrentz, Scot Pollard, and Jacque Vaughn couldn't surmount the hurdle, maybe Kirk Hinrich and Nick Collison can.
If nothing else, it will shut up all the damned wags who insist that basketball is the sole province of the southeast. Never mind that James Naismith was our only losing coach, ever. He only invented the game so that Phog Allen could go on to teach the trade to Dean Smith and "Baron" Rupp. No Kansas, no Kentucky. No Kentucky, no Indiana, no Duke. No North Carolina.
OK, enough soapbox. I'm only bitter, is all. I've been watching early exits and missed brass rings for the last decade & change, so I figure I've earned the (self-)indulgence.
Speaking of indulgences, I've really trimmed back my expenditure on music, so my reviews are going to be somewhat limited. A couple of honorable mentions:
Wilco, I Am Trying To Break Your Heart, DVD. OK, Hayden, I'm willing to relent. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, and Wilco itself, may be "embettered" by the departure of Jay Bennett. Not only that, but the album doth rock like the howling April winds. It is interesting to see the process by which this album was made. Even better, there's extant footage, culled for your viewing pleasure on a supplemental disc. Lurvely. Unforeseen side effect: I'm unrepentantly homesick for Chicago.
Speaking of extant footage: Beatles, The Beatles Anthology, DVD. Disc 5 contains uninterrupted "reunion" footage of Paul, George, and Ringo -- without the interference or presence of one dullard Jeff Lynne. Unfortunately, Disc 5 also contains "reunion" footage of Paul, George, and Ringo -- with Jeff Lynne's dullard thumbprints all over the take. If nothing else, this DVD re-release is worth getting for the 5.1 and DTS mixes.
Much of my musical intake lately has been pretty well limited to Black Flag '84, Rise Above, and a number of Elvis Costello Rhino reissues -- including This Year's Model, which has made hash out of erroneous prejudices I'd been harboring about ol' Declan. He's one of these artists I've more or less backed into. As DF likes to say, I had up until recently respected the guy solely on paper. I also listened to Pleased to Meet Me on my way to my interview today. I found everything invigorating, with the exception of "Can't Hardly Wait," which I now believe to be a ham-handed segue into the Don't Tell A Soul/All Shook Down era 'Mats.
The "Shite Wipes" new release, Elephant, left me cold at the preview party where I heard it in its entirety, looped a couple of times from beginning to end. Put me on the list as "unimpressed." I'd much rather listen to Andy Partridge B-sides.
If nothing else, it will shut up all the damned wags who insist that basketball is the sole province of the southeast. Never mind that James Naismith was our only losing coach, ever. He only invented the game so that Phog Allen could go on to teach the trade to Dean Smith and "Baron" Rupp. No Kansas, no Kentucky. No Kentucky, no Indiana, no Duke. No North Carolina.
OK, enough soapbox. I'm only bitter, is all. I've been watching early exits and missed brass rings for the last decade & change, so I figure I've earned the (self-)indulgence.
Speaking of indulgences, I've really trimmed back my expenditure on music, so my reviews are going to be somewhat limited. A couple of honorable mentions:
Wilco, I Am Trying To Break Your Heart, DVD. OK, Hayden, I'm willing to relent. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, and Wilco itself, may be "embettered" by the departure of Jay Bennett. Not only that, but the album doth rock like the howling April winds. It is interesting to see the process by which this album was made. Even better, there's extant footage, culled for your viewing pleasure on a supplemental disc. Lurvely. Unforeseen side effect: I'm unrepentantly homesick for Chicago.
Speaking of extant footage: Beatles, The Beatles Anthology, DVD. Disc 5 contains uninterrupted "reunion" footage of Paul, George, and Ringo -- without the interference or presence of one dullard Jeff Lynne. Unfortunately, Disc 5 also contains "reunion" footage of Paul, George, and Ringo -- with Jeff Lynne's dullard thumbprints all over the take. If nothing else, this DVD re-release is worth getting for the 5.1 and DTS mixes.
Much of my musical intake lately has been pretty well limited to Black Flag '84, Rise Above, and a number of Elvis Costello Rhino reissues -- including This Year's Model, which has made hash out of erroneous prejudices I'd been harboring about ol' Declan. He's one of these artists I've more or less backed into. As DF likes to say, I had up until recently respected the guy solely on paper. I also listened to Pleased to Meet Me on my way to my interview today. I found everything invigorating, with the exception of "Can't Hardly Wait," which I now believe to be a ham-handed segue into the Don't Tell A Soul/All Shook Down era 'Mats.
The "Shite Wipes" new release, Elephant, left me cold at the preview party where I heard it in its entirety, looped a couple of times from beginning to end. Put me on the list as "unimpressed." I'd much rather listen to Andy Partridge B-sides.
My dad died of colon cancer at the age of 43. This came two years after he had been given a six-week prognosis, thus:
[Surgeon to my stepmother, 8 months with child]: "Your husband has advanced metastatic cancer. My advice would be to get in the car and take a long vacation."
I'm paraphrasing somewhat, but you get the idea.
I figure I am not inclined to take an early exit myself, so a while back, I scheduled a date with a gastroenterologist.
I'll fast forward to the end here: My exam signalled the "all clear." No polyps, nothing untoward.
However... and this is a big however... I was scared shitless (literally) that this might not be the result. OK, I wasn't "scared" shitless, but I was medically made shitless through a regimen of turbo-laxatives which I would not wish upon anyone but a Republican. I don't know what biomedical alchemy causes phosphates to require your bowels to retain water, but suffice it to say that the ingestion and excretion processes that follow from adherence to the label's instructions are neither pleasant nor short. Imagine, if you will, a concoction of moldy plywood squeezin' & wet dog concentrate, with a slight tang of Comet, in a base of refrigerated lakewater. One gallon of this mixture must be drank, 8 oz. at a time, at 10-15 minute intervals, over a 3-4 hour period.
I about made a call to Geneva to inquire about international treaties regarding medical practice at hour 3.25, but my trip to the phone was interrupted by a biological imperative issuing forth from my stomach. "Awright! Everybody OUT!!! Two exits. No waiting!" Perhaps worse than drinking this stuff to purge my intestines was projectile hurling it across the guest bathroom. Insult to injury? I had only just finished a bowl of chicken broth -- the meager sustenance which I would be allowed during this 24-hour period. By the time I had finished retching, I was in no mood to eat, and drinking anything would be verboten in about an hour. Urgh.
OK, so... I have to be at the admitting desk by 7:15 the next day. I'm there, but only in body. My mind is elsewhere, and at no time was this more apparent than when I was cloaked in hospital robes, reading an "informed consent" release form, and I'm being told that it's time for my I.V. Jesus H. Christ, I hate needles. My mind is reeling with about 20 things at once. There's the diagnosis... all the things that could go wrong... this shit about to be stuck into my veins... the drugs I'm going to be shot full of...
But then, there is the fact that my dad died at the age of 43 from a disease for which the cure rate is over 90% with early detection.
And there, standing right next to me, is my wonderful fiancee, telling the nurses how tough that I really am, when all I can stammer out, in so many words, "I don't know if I can get through this."
And I'm thinking, you know, I really don't want to leave my soon-to-be wife without her husband. And there is a whole helluva lot of stuff I plan on doing into my sixties, if I can manage it.
As the prep nurse is wheeling me into endoscopy, she says, "Take good care of him. He's the only one I've got."
About the last thing I recall clearly was being fed drugs that made me feel instantly drunk. I watched the monitor as my heart rate slowed a couple of beats...
And then I awoke to a cup of Sprite and a couple of graham crackers -- and the news that they didn't find anything but a mess of hemorrhoids.
I think I got off light, compared to the guy behind the curtain to my right. As my drugged self is being escorted to my locker, ol' Doc Caudill is giving the business to an alcoholic in denial about his condition.
See ya in five years, you ol' sawbones.
[Surgeon to my stepmother, 8 months with child]: "Your husband has advanced metastatic cancer. My advice would be to get in the car and take a long vacation."
I'm paraphrasing somewhat, but you get the idea.
I figure I am not inclined to take an early exit myself, so a while back, I scheduled a date with a gastroenterologist.
I'll fast forward to the end here: My exam signalled the "all clear." No polyps, nothing untoward.
However... and this is a big however... I was scared shitless (literally) that this might not be the result. OK, I wasn't "scared" shitless, but I was medically made shitless through a regimen of turbo-laxatives which I would not wish upon anyone but a Republican. I don't know what biomedical alchemy causes phosphates to require your bowels to retain water, but suffice it to say that the ingestion and excretion processes that follow from adherence to the label's instructions are neither pleasant nor short. Imagine, if you will, a concoction of moldy plywood squeezin' & wet dog concentrate, with a slight tang of Comet, in a base of refrigerated lakewater. One gallon of this mixture must be drank, 8 oz. at a time, at 10-15 minute intervals, over a 3-4 hour period.
I about made a call to Geneva to inquire about international treaties regarding medical practice at hour 3.25, but my trip to the phone was interrupted by a biological imperative issuing forth from my stomach. "Awright! Everybody OUT!!! Two exits. No waiting!" Perhaps worse than drinking this stuff to purge my intestines was projectile hurling it across the guest bathroom. Insult to injury? I had only just finished a bowl of chicken broth -- the meager sustenance which I would be allowed during this 24-hour period. By the time I had finished retching, I was in no mood to eat, and drinking anything would be verboten in about an hour. Urgh.
OK, so... I have to be at the admitting desk by 7:15 the next day. I'm there, but only in body. My mind is elsewhere, and at no time was this more apparent than when I was cloaked in hospital robes, reading an "informed consent" release form, and I'm being told that it's time for my I.V. Jesus H. Christ, I hate needles. My mind is reeling with about 20 things at once. There's the diagnosis... all the things that could go wrong... this shit about to be stuck into my veins... the drugs I'm going to be shot full of...
But then, there is the fact that my dad died at the age of 43 from a disease for which the cure rate is over 90% with early detection.
And there, standing right next to me, is my wonderful fiancee, telling the nurses how tough that I really am, when all I can stammer out, in so many words, "I don't know if I can get through this."
And I'm thinking, you know, I really don't want to leave my soon-to-be wife without her husband. And there is a whole helluva lot of stuff I plan on doing into my sixties, if I can manage it.
As the prep nurse is wheeling me into endoscopy, she says, "Take good care of him. He's the only one I've got."
About the last thing I recall clearly was being fed drugs that made me feel instantly drunk. I watched the monitor as my heart rate slowed a couple of beats...
And then I awoke to a cup of Sprite and a couple of graham crackers -- and the news that they didn't find anything but a mess of hemorrhoids.
I think I got off light, compared to the guy behind the curtain to my right. As my drugged self is being escorted to my locker, ol' Doc Caudill is giving the business to an alcoholic in denial about his condition.
See ya in five years, you ol' sawbones.
So. The third interview...
I don't want to jinx it by talking/hyping it too much. I can say this much:
It went well, I think. The parting words were, "The decision comes down to who has the best chemistry with the team. And for what it's worth, you have my vote."
These words came from a guy that I used to support at WCOM. He's been my biggest advocate, and I suspect that he's doing his level-best to lobby his co-workers. We, as they say, shall see.
I certainly hope this pans out, for the other dozen or so resumes that I have out, and the two headhunters I have working for me, and my weekly Monster agent email; uh, well, they have turned up exactly zero leads for me in the past five weeks.
Ah, economic recession. At least the last time a Bush was in office, and I was looking for a job, I didn't have a ferschliggin' six-fig salary history.
If I could chuck it all and take a job at Great Escape?
Maybe.
Next: Reflections on a benign outpatient medical procedure; a.k.a. "The Preakness Emotional Stakes."
I don't want to jinx it by talking/hyping it too much. I can say this much:
It went well, I think. The parting words were, "The decision comes down to who has the best chemistry with the team. And for what it's worth, you have my vote."
These words came from a guy that I used to support at WCOM. He's been my biggest advocate, and I suspect that he's doing his level-best to lobby his co-workers. We, as they say, shall see.
I certainly hope this pans out, for the other dozen or so resumes that I have out, and the two headhunters I have working for me, and my weekly Monster agent email; uh, well, they have turned up exactly zero leads for me in the past five weeks.
Ah, economic recession. At least the last time a Bush was in office, and I was looking for a job, I didn't have a ferschliggin' six-fig salary history.
If I could chuck it all and take a job at Great Escape?
Maybe.
Next: Reflections on a benign outpatient medical procedure; a.k.a. "The Preakness Emotional Stakes."
Has it really been over half a month since my last post?
Guess it really doesn't matter, as I have yet to "go public" with the notion that I've joined the Blog Generation. Part of this seems like an exercise in futility. I've never been much for journaling, although dog knows that I've tried.
Another part of my acknowledges that I've been held in the tenterhooks of ennui. The onset was somewhere around the month before I got laid off from my last gig at Worldcom. I'd come into work, post idly on People's Forum for about 7 hours, do whatever minimal tasks I had been given, and would go home before rush hour traffic kicked in. Believe it or not, this is an almost acceptable state of affairs around that office.
You wouldn't think Nashville would have much of a problem with traversing sundry A to B routes, but alas, much time is wasted on the highways and byways. I don't know if this is a particular southern phenomenon, but I have noticed that most people driving around here tend to take the most direct route, even if it means that they have to wait through multi-block queues of congestion. In rain, all bets are off. Not a single route, beaten or unbeaten, moves at more than a glacial tick. In snow? Forget it.
Anyway -- that tangent is merely to illustrate the frustration that had become my existence at my "previous employer." I'll do my best to be fair, as it is my wont not to burn bridges whenever possible. The caveat here is two-fold: (1) The WCOM situation was a clusterfuck from the moment John Sidgemore pledged to "enter a new chapter in the company's history" -- to which my [prescient] smart-ass quip was, "Yeah, Chapter 11;" and (2) the business re-alignment process pretty much amounted to an ice floe for my figurative Eskimo (read: livelihood) to be placed upon. I had no idea that the boot would come at the point that it did, but -- I admit -- I was all about "working smarter, not harder." And as many of my netizen counterparts can testify, I spent an inordinate amount of time in community talkin' shit with other music obsessives. I have no idea if that behavior was a variable in the equation "Work + Worldcom <> Andy," but given what I knew about how I conducted myself during business hours, and given that I was assigned to a couple of high-penetration/low-uplift accounts, I figure that if I'm a manager being given a headcount number, I might make the same determination.
Someone tell me if I sound like a captive...?
I've struggled with the notion of career for nearly as long as I've been dancing the information technology rag. I felt, for a long time, that there was something else that I "should be doing." However, what that was? Open question. I would ask other people, "Hey, what is it that you think I should be doing?" This got a few quizzical glances in return, and the odd bit of practical advice. At some point, though, I figured out a couple of things. First, I can do this work fairly well, and fairly easily. Second, the money is really good. Third, when things are going well, I enjoy the work, and I don't have many complaints. The complaints I do have amount to things that everyone (that I know) (with a conscience) (working for a living) (that has a low b.s. tolerance) finds strugglesome. Bureaucracy, inanity, rear-echelon incompetence, yadda yadda. We all know the drill. So, the key? Find a gig where things are going well.
I may have found that opportunity.
I had my third interview today at Bell South...
Guess it really doesn't matter, as I have yet to "go public" with the notion that I've joined the Blog Generation. Part of this seems like an exercise in futility. I've never been much for journaling, although dog knows that I've tried.
Another part of my acknowledges that I've been held in the tenterhooks of ennui. The onset was somewhere around the month before I got laid off from my last gig at Worldcom. I'd come into work, post idly on People's Forum for about 7 hours, do whatever minimal tasks I had been given, and would go home before rush hour traffic kicked in. Believe it or not, this is an almost acceptable state of affairs around that office.
You wouldn't think Nashville would have much of a problem with traversing sundry A to B routes, but alas, much time is wasted on the highways and byways. I don't know if this is a particular southern phenomenon, but I have noticed that most people driving around here tend to take the most direct route, even if it means that they have to wait through multi-block queues of congestion. In rain, all bets are off. Not a single route, beaten or unbeaten, moves at more than a glacial tick. In snow? Forget it.
Anyway -- that tangent is merely to illustrate the frustration that had become my existence at my "previous employer." I'll do my best to be fair, as it is my wont not to burn bridges whenever possible. The caveat here is two-fold: (1) The WCOM situation was a clusterfuck from the moment John Sidgemore pledged to "enter a new chapter in the company's history" -- to which my [prescient] smart-ass quip was, "Yeah, Chapter 11;" and (2) the business re-alignment process pretty much amounted to an ice floe for my figurative Eskimo (read: livelihood) to be placed upon. I had no idea that the boot would come at the point that it did, but -- I admit -- I was all about "working smarter, not harder." And as many of my netizen counterparts can testify, I spent an inordinate amount of time in community talkin' shit with other music obsessives. I have no idea if that behavior was a variable in the equation "Work + Worldcom <> Andy," but given what I knew about how I conducted myself during business hours, and given that I was assigned to a couple of high-penetration/low-uplift accounts, I figure that if I'm a manager being given a headcount number, I might make the same determination.
Someone tell me if I sound like a captive...?
I've struggled with the notion of career for nearly as long as I've been dancing the information technology rag. I felt, for a long time, that there was something else that I "should be doing." However, what that was? Open question. I would ask other people, "Hey, what is it that you think I should be doing?" This got a few quizzical glances in return, and the odd bit of practical advice. At some point, though, I figured out a couple of things. First, I can do this work fairly well, and fairly easily. Second, the money is really good. Third, when things are going well, I enjoy the work, and I don't have many complaints. The complaints I do have amount to things that everyone (that I know) (with a conscience) (working for a living) (that has a low b.s. tolerance) finds strugglesome. Bureaucracy, inanity, rear-echelon incompetence, yadda yadda. We all know the drill. So, the key? Find a gig where things are going well.
I may have found that opportunity.
I had my third interview today at Bell South...
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